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Mora County, New Mexico
I had submitted a report recently, and then gotten cold feet when those other investigators tried to speak with me, due to a personal dilemma. I will explain in detail, but I have had alot of time to think about different aspects and other incidents. Let me start at the beginning. My name is John V.
My grandfather, who has recently passed away, owned an 1100-acre ranch along coyote creek. Approximately xx miles out side of Mora County, New Mexico. The first incident occurred in about 1968 or 1969. According to my uncle who's nickname is Leroy. He is known to be an exaggerator, so I never really new if he was telling the truth, until I had my own experiences. Any way he was on a camping trip during that summer, with his hippie friends, two girls and one guy. They had set up a tent to sleep in and started a campfire, and ate dinner.
Just after dark my uncle, and his male friend were both Vietnam veterans had began to brag in front of these girls about who was the strongest, and most fearless, and so on, any way it had gotten pretty late, probably around midnight, as Leroy recalled and he said to his friend, if your such a tough guy why don't you walk across the creek, and up the side of the mountain in the pitch black of the night, and when you get about half way up, sleep there by your self for the remainder of the night, he said you can take your sleeping bag, but nothing else, and his friend replied no problem, since he had been a green beret, and was afraid so he claimed of nothing. So he grabbed his sleeping bag, and set out in the dark. Just as he agreed, and proceeded about half way up the mountain, where he laid down to sleep. Then approximately about 3 a.m. my uncle, and the girls woke to a horribly loud scream that he had never heard before in his life. He said it was eerie, somewhere between a roar and a scream. He was so terrified that he grabbed a shovel, and jumped out of the tent to see if he could see anything. It was still dark but he could see something coming down the mountain hobbling, and approaching his tent very rapidly. He clenched the shovel and was getting ready to swing, when he heard the voice of his friend saying, "it's me, it's me."" He was still in his mummy bag. My uncle asked him what happened, and he said a giant creature had walked up to where he was sleeping, on two legs. He said it was covered with hair, and roared at him. He got so scared; he didn't have time to get out of his sleeping bag. He told Leroy we should get the hell out of here so they loaded up the camp, and drove off as fast as they could!
The next incident was an experience my grandfather had. It was about 1973 or 1974. He had cattle and he drove out about once a month to check on them. He had a small cabin near the creek. He would often take me with him we were very close, and had a special sort of bond. We would have long talks, and really got to know each other. Any way we went to spend a weekend at the cabin, so he could do his routine. We got there in the evening, ate dinner, and went to bed he always got up at 4 in the morning, before the sun came up and set out across the creek, to cut wild loco weed, so the cows would not eat it. I would stay in bed till about 8 a.m., when he would return and make breakfast. Well that morning he retuned about 5 a.m., woke me and looked white as a ghost I new him well, and he was a man that was not afraid of anything, he said he was cutting loco weed at precisely the crack of dawn, when he heard a scream that made the skin crawl up the back of his neck. It was unlike anything he had ever heard. He said at first he thought it sounded like a woman's scream, but there was something animal like, it was very hard for him to describe. This was a man who was raised on this very mountain and had visited time and time again, but never recalled anything like it.
The men got together for a game of cards, and beer on the picnic tables. The women went inside the cabin to gossip. My brother and sister were playing together. My cousin Freddie and me were bored, and we approached my grandfather. He said I have the cure for you, and quickly put us to work. He had a ten acre corral, fenced with barbed wire, surrounding a fruit orchard. What he wanted us to do was take these wire twists, and insert them between the posts, binding the barbed wire through the twists. So we took as many twists as we could carry, and my dog, and set out to the southwest corner of the corral.
There were no cows, because they were on top of the mesa grazing. It was a beautiful clear and warm day I told my cousin, we'd start at this corner you work west toward the fruit orchard, and ill work the fence north. My dog stayed at my side, as I worked north. About 30 minutes into it my dog started acting very strange. I was trying to continue north, but he would not move. He was frozen stiff, belly and nose down in the dirt, facing west directly towards the fruit orchard. His eyes were tearing, which I had never seen before, and he was letting out a very quiet whimpering, which I had never seen before. I kicked and pulled at him to try to get him to move, but he would not budge. Then I could hear a heavy breathing, very low pitched rumbling, and then a long loud low-pitched roar, coming directly from the fruit orchard. I looked, and I saw what I thought was a bear. I could still hear it breathing I looked closer, focusing my eyes, and noticed it was sitting down like a man, on a knocked over tree, as it was eating apples with one hand, still breathing heavy, but yet it seemed to be looking directly at me, and I got the feeling it was happy, and somehow smiling at me. At that moment, my cousin had reached me at break neck speed, yelling did you here that? I replied I'm looking at it. He turned to look; we saw it stand from its sitting position, next to a 12-foot apple tree. It seemed to be just as tall as the tree, or pretty close reaching in grabbing apples with one arm, one at a time, then sit and eat one at a time, while staring at us every time it ate one. It was covered in long reddish hair all over its body; the sun shining directly on it its hair. It almost seemed to have blondish sun bleached highlights very shiny. It had a cone shaped head and it looked clean. I personally wasn't scared, but my cousin was frantic, and the way my dog was acting troubled me. My cousin said were dead I replied look at the length of its legs, we are standing about 200 yards away I think if it really wanted to hurt us, we would already be dead, and he replied I'm not taking any chances, I'm gonna make a run for it. I said if your running I'm not staying so we took one last look, and darted, and my dog got up and darted after us.
We ran as fast as we could to the cabin, where my dad, grandfather,
godfather, and they're friends, were playing poker, and drinking beer. We
ran up screaming frantically there's some sort of creature in the fruit
orchard. My grandfather replied you guys are just trying to get out of work
dammit. Get back to work. Nobody would believe us so I told my little
brother, and he said I want to see it. Show me. He grabbed a hand full of
bottle rockets, and we walked towards the orchard. To his amazement, and
ours the creature was still there eating apples.
Years went by! The next incident
happened in the winter of 95 about mid November. I was anxious to start my
own business, selling live trees. I had a small Mazda pickup my grandfather
was loaning me. I got my nursery license, tree tags, some twine, some
burlap, some nails, chicken wire, a bailing hook, a shovel, and two spades.
My idea was to collect Pinon pines and juniper from my grandfather's ranch,
bring it to Albuquerque, and sell it on the side of the road.
Anyway back to my point, I drive my truck into this certain area as far as
I can until the trees become so thick I have to stop and set out on foot. I
grab my backpack with all my gear including food and water, and one shovel,
and a spade, no guns I don't believe in them! I walk about 300-600 yards
into the forest. Looking for only the best looking tree specimens I can
find, one here, one there spread out. I'll locate one set down my gear, take
a drink of water, take a deep breath of fresh air, relax, and break out my
favorite pipe, and then start to dig.
The summer came and I didn't return till the next winter in 96. That
first winter was dry, and there was no snow, but the next winter was moist.
I started again in November this time it was snowing quite heavy. I did the
same routine but this time there was virgin snow.
Back to my dilemma I spoke of at the beginning, I feel like I'm caught
between science, and nature.
Report, with sketch attachment by the witness, taken and logged by Bobbie Short February 10, 2001