Sasquatch Chronicles Blog

In the fall of 2011, I packed up my life in Minnesota and moved to Alabama. I was 41 years old and going through a significant period of transition. Just a year earlier, my partner, Jon, and I had celebrated my 40th birthday at my father’s farm. Jon, a South Dakota native, had sold his property in Florida to build a home in Northeast Alabama.

The year we moved was one that many Alabamians would never forget. On April 27, 2011, a devastating EF5 tornado tore through Rainsville, leaving a lasting mark on the region. It took me time to adjust to my new surroundings. Alabama’s mountainous terrain and dense forests were a world apart from the flat Midwestern prairies I had known in Minnesota.

I brought the most important part of my life with me: my Morgan horses. On March 5, 2012, our new life in Collinsville, Alabama, felt even more complete when my Morgan colt, Mentone, was born.

Not long after settling in, I visited our neighbor, Winfred Pruitt. Winfred was an older gentleman who quickly became like a second father to me. During one of our conversations, I mentioned that I was interested in finding local horseback riding trails. His expression suddenly became serious.

“Watch out for Wood Boogers if you’re traveling alone on the mountain forest trails,” he warned.

I had never heard the term Wood Booger before. Assuming he was referring to some colorful Appalachian folklore, I laughed it off and didn’t give his warning much thought.

On July 29, 2014, when I was 44 years old, I decided to explore Cherokee Rock Village in Leesburg, Alabama. The area is known for its enormous boulder formations and long history of human activity, dating back thousands of years. Located only about eight miles from my home, it seemed like the perfect place to gain some experience exploring the local trails.

I arrived at the park headquarters around 9:00 a.m. The sky was clear, and the weather was beautiful. I was riding my Morgan stallion, MRM Black Magic, and had packed only a few essentials: a saddlebag, a raincoat, a bottle of water, and a small buck knife. I didn’t expect to need anything more.

After consulting the trail map, I found a secluded route accessible only by horseback or ATV through a secured entrance. The trail followed the brow of the mountain, winding between towering, ancient rock formations before descending sharply onto a narrow, winding service road.

For approximately three miles, Magic and I made our way down the mountain. The forest gradually closed in around us, with young pines, oaks, and hickories forming a dense Appalachian canopy overhead. The farther we traveled, the quieter the woods seemed to become.

Eventually, the trail leveled out. Through the trees, I spotted a private lake about a quarter-mile ahead. Off to the right, somewhat closer, stood a tall hunting blind or observation tower. I briefly wondered whether it was used for hunting or wildlife observation.

Everything around me was still. The forest was quiet, peaceful, and seemingly undisturbed.

Then, without warning, the mountain came alive.

Something massive suddenly exploded out of the thick brush to my left. It didn’t simply step into view. It rose upward into the trees, violently shaking the canopy as it emerged.

Magic immediately snorted in alarm. His pace slowed, and I could feel his entire body tense beneath me.

Whatever had emerged from the thicket bolted north toward the rising mountainside. Its movement was incredibly powerful. It didn’t hop, jump, or lunge. It ran with a heavy, almost locomotive force, snapping branches and knocking down young trees as it tore through the forest.

It covered the distance of a football field in mere seconds.

Moving at an unbelievable speed, the creature charged up the steep mountainside, reaching approximately a quarter of the way up before making a sudden, sharp turn to the right. More branches shattered as it changed direction. Then, just as abruptly as it had appeared, it sat down.

It stopped completely.

The silence returned, but it was no longer peaceful. It felt heavy and oppressive. Whatever was sitting on that hillside now had a clear vantage point overlooking the trail below, and I had the unsettling feeling that it was watching me.

I stared into the dense vegetation above. I never got a clear view of its physical features, but through the thick network of branches, I could make out what appeared to be a solid, black mass.

What disturbed me most was the complete lack of sound. Throughout the entire encounter, the creature never vocalized. There were no grunts, growls, or other noises. After it sat down, I heard nothing at all. It was as though the creature had deliberately disappeared into the silence of the forest.

That was when the reality of my situation began to sink in. I was alone, deep in the mountains, miles from help, carrying nothing more than a small pocketknife. A wave of vulnerability washed over me, and I found myself desperately wishing I had brought a firearm.

Magic and I had already traveled several miles, and both of us were tired. Trying to remain calm, I urged him forward toward the lake. He needed a chance to cool down and get a drink.

We waded into the water, allowing the cool mountain currents to soothe his legs while he drank. For approximately fifteen minutes, we remained there beneath the looming hillside. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something might still be watching us from above.

Eventually, it was time to turn around.

To get home, we had to ride back up the mountain, passing directly by the area where the creature had burst through the trees. The return journey was tense. Every muscle in my back seemed tight with anticipation, and I found myself constantly alert to every sound and movement around us. Despite my uneasiness, the woods remained still, and nothing else happened.

As we climbed toward the ridgeline, my thoughts drifted away from the ancient rock formations, the historical battles associated with the region, and even the old legends of the Nephilim. Instead, I kept hearing Winfred’s voice in my mind.

His warning, which I had once dismissed as nothing more than Appalachian folklore, now carried an entirely different meaning.

“Watch out for Wood Boogers if you’re traveling alone on the mountain forest trails.”