A listener writes “I will give you a short breakdown of what happened back in the summer of 80.
We as in my mom, boyfriend, my dog gypsy and myself made the drive Friday afternoon to the town of Roscoe NY from middle Long Island. The town back then consisted of the Roscoe Diner and that was about it right off route 17. We had camped at this particular spot twice before a week each time just my mom and I and the dog of course so I was well familiar with the area and felt very secure.
The camping spot was about a mile from a gate off a forest road about 3 miles from the Roscoe Diner. We would park the car just off the road and proceed to make the 5-7 trips back and forth to carry all the gear from the car to the camp. With my moms boyfriend there we were able to carry double what we normally could. So we were about done in 3 trips all that was left was my pillow and some miscellaneous stuff and lock up the car. So I volunteered to make the last trip with the dog. On the way back to the car about half way is a creek with boulders and hemlocks that come down a steep embankment trickles under the road down thru a low area and into a creek that back then was cold crystal clear and full of trout no bigger then 8″ max most were 3-4″ but these were native trout and they looked like something faberge would have been proud to have made.
These fish looked like they encrusted with jewels. Now the little creek that went under the road would dry up in summer the creek it flowed into was year round and about 3 miles from where we were camping flowed into the battenkill River a very famous east coast trout River. As I walked to the car I smelled what I can only describe as a dead animal and piss. It made me choke and gag when I got a big whiff of it.
The road where the creek was was pretty well covered by trees but wide open underneath me and the dog made it to the car got my things locked up arms headed back. This dog was about 7 and her and I were inseparable on the way back she would Trott along ahead of me and then the last couple hundred yards she would run to camp alert her return and then come back to walk with me. Just as we were reaching that half way area I saw her standing there silenent and shaking almost I came up behind her and to her back left and she was shivering I looked up and all I could see was these giant raspberry bushes and the little creek.
There wasn’t a sound Wes I mean the saying a needle dropping could be heard is an understatement. Even the creek couldn’t be heard and that’s when it hit me this growl like sound that I felt throughout my body it paralyzed me with fear without moving I glanced down at my pup and she was pissing herself cowering. At first I thought bear having lived in Vermont a few years before I and the dog were no stranger to bear in fact she would usually go after them not this time.
Then out the corner of my eye I swear I saw a black face in the raspberry brush and it was no freaking bear. that’s when I was able the second that growling stopped snap out of it and took off running like a bat out off hell with the dog behind me. I got back to camp and of course proceed to scream and cry about this monster we saw and of course my moms boyfriend who later became my step father started teasing me at first but as I continued insisting we should leave he became annoyed and mad at me. Nothing else happened the rest of the trip and I refused to leave the camp fire area the whole weekend and my relationship with him was never the same Nor a good one for that matter from that day on.”