I've been reading through your reports and trying to decide if I want to add to your data because what I experienced is a bit different. A major part of these accounts here and on other website tend to say the Bigfoot watches and then walks off. That has happened here, on my property for ten years. They come around, stare and go about their business until this one day two weeks ago and I have to share the experience with your readers.
We haven't paid much attention to the creatures; they aren’t troublesome, scary or mischievous like some report; live and let live. This summer, my list of "honey-do" projects the wife gave me included building a small stepping bridge over the creek so we can get to the wild berry patch each spring without risking muddy shoes. We are too old to jump the creek anymore. I was hammering away, minding my own business and comes lunch time. The wife walks out the 60 yards to the creek bringing lemonade and a sandwich. She says, "Watch your lunch." I was busy looking for where I put my leveler and paid little attention. I said “thanks” and she went back to the house. I finished the lemonade and set the other half of ham sandwich down on a one by four and moved over on my hands and knees to saw off an overhang.
Just as I'm about to set the saw, I hear loud breathing and think the wife is behind me. I glance around and look straight at two hairy legs not more than ten feet from two twenty-five pound sacks of quick-set cement. It was our resident Bigfoot. He never came up this close before and it startled me to be truthful. It was one o’clock in the afternoon on a warm and sunny Wednesday. The next few minutes were raw and intense, but I got a very good look at him. He's a big fellow, shiny gray bearded fellow. He commenced to squat down behind the wheelbarrow. He’s too close and I'm uncomfortable with him coming in that close. In front of this big fellow is a wheelbarrow and beyond that a fifty-sixty yard clearing to the back porch.
I try to shoo him away by shouting "go home!" Probably a dumbass thing to say but he doesn't respond. (It's a 'he,' his knees were spread open in my direction in a squat position) So now I stand up and motion pointing to the area where he usually stares at us from and wave and shout "go home." He watched me intently, and fingered the box of nails set out on the ground. The thing I never noticed before at a distance was hearing him breathe. It's very loud and rhythmic; hollow sounding like breathing in a metal tube. Have you heard about this? After that we stared at each other, it seemed like a long time, but probably wasn't. I remembered his eyes nervously switched between me, the trees and what was left of my sandwich. I felt there was another one in the trees somewhere but I never saw it. I stood over him during the stare time, and then he finally stood to his feet and backed away never taking his eyes off me. Afraid of him at that point, I quickly sat down cross-legged and watched his every move, my head was pounding. Then here is what I wanted you to know, it was this part. After he stood up, he backed up the other side of the wheelbarrow, and stopped, stared and then he reached down grabbed a fist full of dirt and leaves and threw it at me. Have you heard this before? Then he takes a few more steps backwards and does it again. I don't know what that was supposed to mean but at that point he turned and walked away at a pretty good clip, looking back at me twice. He went off to the area where we usually see him watching and was lost into the dense foliage and trees that surrounds the property. I am 68 years old and it still frazzles me. I told my wife about it and she said she saw the last part of it, the dirt throwing. I have read about rocks being thrown, but not this. That is what I had to say for now.
(E.P. Arkansas 2011)
P.S. The stepping bridge over the creek remains unfinished until my sons can come up later this summer and help with the project.
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