I was over at “Bigfoot Evidence” this morning and found a story that my friend and site owner Shawn had dug up. Shawn has a knack for coming up with obscure stories of interest regarding Bigfoot.
This one is no exception and is related not as a legend but as matter of fact truth by the storyteller.
Those that follow this Crypto creature are certainly aware of the connection between native tribes and Sasquatch. Many of these Indian tribes feel that Bigfoot is part of nature and therefore should be left alone. They are very tight lipped about this subject, only passing knowledge and experience to future generations.
The following story to many will be quite hard to believe, to others, a true testament to the Hairy Man of the forest. Personally, I do my best to remain neutral as it’s my job to just put it out there for you. However, in my opinion there is a thread of truth weaved through this historical account.
I hope you enjoy the story as much as I did:
The “Hairy Man” : The unspoken legend of this area
So, I will be upfront. I live in Western Montana – the mountains are real, the wilderness is real, and so are the people.
I live on a reservation and the population of Native American to White/other is about 50/50. My father is a tribal member and my mother is not. I am therefore a white descendant and have grown up experiencing both sides of the ‘culture’ so to speak. I have spent time in the rough neighborhoods and at white owned ranches and farms. Both whites and indians have stories that they rarely tell because they are so paranormal in nature.
Let me tell you about something that people don’t talk about here.
When my father was born he was conscious. This is something he would never tell a stranger: but I am telling you what he told me. He remembers being in a ‘waiting room’ before birth – and surrounded by thousands of babies. Some were deformed, some were sickly, some were black and asian and other races – and one of them was covered in hair. It’s impossible for me to explain this part better than he could: but basically he saw the waiting room for souls coming to this particular area of the world and he was one of the few ‘let through’.
I am only sharing this detail because as a child I had dreams about the “Hairy man” and his family before I was ever exposed to the concept of Bigfoot. These dreams were frightening and unexplainable and only made sense years later when my father related this to me.
In my opinion – the Hairy Man is somehow related to this area in a big way and my ancestors, having been the first to settle this area, have had extensive experiences with the Hairy Men that have been buried under generations of secrecy and tight lips. Sasquatch may be part of my genetic memory as well as my fathers and our grandfathers.
Sasquatch was after all, named after the tribe who lives here now, who had named him ‘Sesqec’ or ‘wild man of the mountains’ before Louis and Clark came. It is this name ‘Sesqec’ which the world has adopted for Bigfoot…
So: my father was born with pre-cognition of the Hairy Man (Sasquatch).
Years later as a small boy he was playing in the living room with his many brothers when one of them burst through the door screaming and crying for my grandmother to come out and ‘make him go away’. This was the first time the ‘Hairy Man’ had re-appeared in my fathers life. My uncle, also a child at the time, had seen a Sasquatch in the small garden out back, which is tucked next to a small creek and at the time was surrounded by trees. This Sasquatch was stealing vegetables and ran off after being sighted. Nobody spoke of this event afterwards – Sasquatch was taken for granted back then anyway, and my grandmother, raising a houseful of young boys by herself, had no desire to encourage them to panic : which they were.
As the years went by my father reached his early 20′s and stories had been popping up around the reservation about a wild man breaking into houses and scaring children at night. ‘Indian town’ as it was called was the downtown area with government housing etc. and is a rough neighborhood that I grew up in myself as a kid. ‘Indian town’ was a very tight-lipped place and people didn’t speak about these events to anyone but close relatives. The historic church which ‘indian town’ centers around has had many controversies and disturbing stories At night, in ‘Indian town’ someone very large and smelly had been rummaging through garbage and trashing yards. A couple houses had been broken into and completely trashed. Food from the cupboards was taken, food that a bear or other wild animal wouldn’t have been able to access. People couldn’t decide whether it was a wild animal, an alcoholic or drug addict, or kids causing trouble.
This carried on for some years. One family in particular started to be visited by Hairy Man almost every night. They would come home and see the door left open, their food taken, and the animals cowering under tables etc. This routine was so familiar that they treated it as a common occurence, like the ‘family ghost’ as my father put it. Something that is there but the family is afraid to acknowledge.
They kept their lips tight. But word got around. People were getting nervous. Everyone started to lock their doors at night (this was unheard of during the 70′s). Dogs were acting cowardly for no apparent reason…
The Wild Man was having his way. Free reign. He was getting bold. He started to break into houses during the middle of the day. Children would see him and flip out. Police were called. Meetings were held. The town was becoming more and more shaken up by the presence of this unknown intruder.
This was when something incredible happened to the particular family who was ‘favorited’ by the Hairy Man. They had become so lax and accepting of the Hairy Man’s presence that one night, while standing on the porch, the father was yanked off by his feet in full view of the entire family. They screamed and huddled together and cried while whatever it was ‘fought’ with the Dad on the porch. The sounds of fighting and screaming and knowing that your father was powerless against whatever it was… it must have been unspeakably traumatic for the kids. They are now grown up, like myself, and I wonder to this day how much this affected their lives.
The father was gone. For days. Whatever it was that had taken him had carried him off into the night after a struggle on the porch. There was blood on the grass and the family grabbed neighbors and men of the community to help recover the father. The men got together and followed the signs and trails left by whatever it was. Drops of blood and signs of something large passing through, they followed this trail all the way to the very creek which my uncle had spotted a Sasquatch at. They followed the creek all night.
When the men returned the next day, they didn’t speak a word. A whole group of grown men, and not one of them was willing to speak about what happened. They had however, found the father. They recovered him. He was beaten black and blue over his entire body, ribs broken, arms and legs broken. The father was in shock. Incoherent. Couldn’t speak a word.
One of my uncles had gone to see the man and his family in the hospital. There was a fair amount of good will being shown to the family that went through this experience. Nobody knew what happened, only that the father was close to death and the family was very shaken up. So my uncle stopped by to pay his respects, and saw for himself the father lying in the hospital. His eyes were bulging wide, he was trembling constantly. This man had been beaten badly – but something else was wrong with him. He was traumatized… he died that night and to this day nobody knows what grabbed him or what happened to him.
To this day, the men who went on the recovery mission to save him have kept these stories to themselves. Only a select circle, including my father, remembers these incidents. Almost nobody talks about them. I have shared them with you, for whatever it’s worth.
Those men found what it was that took that father. They found the Hairy Man, and they killed it. They shot it to death with high powered rifles and buried the body.
The men who did this feel incredibly guilty. Sasquatch is a matter of fact here, and the older generations told us to avoid them and leave them alone , because they are human beings . They are not ‘animals’ and they are not ‘magic’. They can most certainly be monsters… and this is one story that corroborates that.
But the Hairy Man, Bigfoot, is so human like, that even here, when a group of men killed one, they were so traumatized by the experience that they felt guilty of murder.
Back in the 70′s there was no desire to be ‘rich and famous’ for killing a Bigfoot. There was no desire to even talk about Bigfoot. These kind of things were ‘dirty little secrets’, especially on reservations. Yes there were plenty of white kids bumping into Bigfoot and getting in the newspapers, but the indian community is tight lipped about this – even still to this day.
Hairy Man was a dirty little secret and I am glad my Dad told me the story.
As of this day Bigfoot has been sighted in these surrounding mountain ranges over a dozen times. One of the latest sightings was less than a quarter mile behind my house, at a nearby man-made lake. A Sasquatch was sighted by a retired elementary school principle who I know personally. He related to my grandmother in private, and that is the only reason I know.
I have been deep up into these mountains and can tell you they are not like other mountains. More has been seen and experienced there than people are willing to talk about, including close encounters with UFO’s.
The tight lipped nature of Bigfoot is something people need to understand. This world is so full of cynics and boring people that it is assumed if anything ‘fantastic’ happens it must be made into a headline. That’s simply not true. People who have traumatic and personal experiences with these things do not want attention for it. They don’t want anyone to know about it.
If it weren’t for people with big mouths: like myself : nobody would know
Hope it was worth the read.
Source: Metacomet @ David Icke Forums
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