Sasquatch Chronicles Blog

A listener writes “I’m in Missouri and thought I’d share my encounter. I’m not sure it’s “show worthy,” but if you’d like to consider it, I’d be more than happy to talk. What struck me the most was how many parallels there were to stories I’ve heard from others.

I don’t remember the exact date, but it was early fall, around 2022. South of Rolla, Missouri, there’s a place called Lane Spring. It’s a small park with camping and trout fishing. I was there with my regular camping buddy and both of our dogs. We picked a site right on Little Piney Creek, just above the spring.

We had finished dinner and were relaxing, waiting for the sun to go down so we could hike the trail to the spring in the dark. There was still a little light left when we suddenly heard crashing in the creek just below us. A group of four deer came bounding across the water to our side, only 15–20 yards away. They stopped dead, all of them staring back across the creek toward the direction they came from. They didn’t even acknowledge us.

What really threw us off was that neither of our dogs reacted. Both dogs are normally deer and critter aggressive. My Rottweiler, without fail, will chase deer every time. But they just lay there watching, no barking, no movement, nothing. It was like the deer and the dogs were locked in the same frozen state.

We got up and moved around the campsite, trying to break the spell, and still the deer didn’t budge. They never even looked at us. I tried coaxing my dog to chase them, and she didn’t react at all. It was baffling. By now it was fully dark, so I put on my headlamp and aimed it at the deer. Only then did they slowly turn and walk away, no running, no panic, just calm and deliberate.

We leashed up the dogs and started our hike along the trail, which runs only about three feet from the water. As soon as we started walking, there was a massive splash in the creek, extremely close to us. The terrain on our side is flat; the opposite side rises into a hill with some small bluffs. When I turned the light toward the splash, I could see a huge rock sitting in the creek. Little Piney is crystal clear, so it was easy to see. There was no way it rolled in, it had to have been thrown from the opposite bank. If it had rolled, it would’ve come to rest near that side of the shore, not traveled 50 feet across the creek.

We scanned the area for anyone who might’ve done it, but there was nothing, no people, no lights, no movement. Ten seconds later, the exact same thing happened again, another massive splash, another large rock.

By this point we were completely baffled, shining our lights across both banks, seeing nothing. Then something else strange happened. Our dogs, normally eager, adventure-loving trail dogs suddenly turned around and started walking back toward camp on their own. My dog, who is usually stubborn but always obedient when called, wouldn’t listen to a single command. The other dog followed her lead. We ended up having to follow them back. We didn’t want to leash them and drag them forward, so we called it a night.

The odd thing is, neither of us ever got that creepy or “danger” feeling. We weren’t scared at any point. After everything that happened, I expected some sense of dread, but it never came. The dogs clearly sensed something, even if subtly, but we didn’t feel it ourselves.

To this day, I can’t explain the behavior of the deer, the dogs, or the massive rocks hitting the creek. I camp all over Mark Twain National Forest, and in all these years, this is the one and only experience like this. I half expected to have a visual encounter after that night like you always say, be careful what you wish for but nothing else has ever happened.

Take care, Wes.