December 10, 1977. I was squatting in the woods out Little Lake Road in
Mendocino California. I'd spent most of my life in the woods of California
or Maine... even had resident pet black bears that would come to the open
dump at the back of the property.
One night, I am laying in my tent...I don't remember if it was late (2 am)
and I woke up or if it was earlier in the night (say 11 pm) and I was just
going to sleep. Through the woods (about fifty yards away is my guess) the
stomping and crashing of smaller trees started going on. It was loud. I
was surprised at first and a little afraid because I was squatting illegally
on state property. With my familiarity of the noises of the night in the woods, I listened
carefully to try to determine or identify what was making the noise. My
first assessment was that it was biped, not a bear or a dear. Realizing
this scared me the most.
Understanding the force necessary to cause the destructive sounds I was
listening to scared me even further... I don't know if profanity is allowed
or acceptable, but I was more effing afraid than I could ever remember,
praying that what I was listening to wouldn't start moving towards my tent.
The noise sounded like a two-legged monster crashing through the woods
hastily as if trying to make quick time — CRASH CRASH CRASH CRASH! It was
then I realized that I heard a dog (or two, I don't remember) barking in
pursuit. Gratefully the noise was not coming towards me and I suspected that
whatever was moving so quickly and violently through the woods was trying to
elude the dog(s).
I think this whole event lasted about 30 seconds and then the crashing
stopped. Then the next scariest thing happened. The dog barked a few more
times and then it made that sound dogs make when they are brutally injured.
After that...I did not hear a single damned thing except the fear white
noise inside my head.
You know... I worked as a split maker for a year on LP land in Mendocino
County and as a timber operator for about five years east of Fort Bragg and
Mendocino.. I worked alone very often. I was surprised to read a post on
this website wherein the person who wrote it also said they often felt (and
somehow knew) they were not alone when in the woods. I would turn off my
chainsaw now and then and I could "feel" something watching me.
The last strange thing I will share with you about the 22 years of my life,
12 miles east of Fort Bragg in the woods is the frequent discovery of
disemboweled animals. Simply that disemboweled — the rest of the animal in
tact. What an eclectic mix we are in the wonderful County of Mendocino.
Please keep as anonymous as possible and do not publish my telephone
number... thank you, regards to you and yours during this part of the year
and the upcoming New Year. Postscript: I forgot to follow up on the morning
after this encounter.... I found what would be considered normal damage made
by a large creature thrashing through the woods.. no obvious signs that it
was or wasn't sasquatch... no obvious signs that the dog(s) had been killed
or maimed.... I moved my tent to be sure.
Jim S.
© From the files of Bobbie Short.
