I have never shared my story except with my father, but I like to listen to and believe

the stories from other hunters.

They live them and who am I to tell them what they saw?

It doesn't take much imagination for me to feel like I'm right there with

the person in your stories at the time of their encounters. My name is Bob and I'm 79 years old.

I stopped hunting when I was 59. I hated giving up hunting but I had sport knees and it was getting too hard to walk in the forest and the mountains.

I sure miss the elk meat and the venison.

I know that Bigfoot has been here forever.

I started to read about them when I was 12.

There wasn't much to read about them in those days, but every once in a while you would hear a

strange story that a hunter or a camper had seen one, or something they couldn't explain,

or experience being harassed by something they never saw.

They just heard it or smelled it.

But no one talked about it for fear being crazy because no one believed that Bigfoot existed.

I also never spoke to any of my friends about seeing one.

I don't believe they would have believed me anyway.

I saw the only one I've ever seen when I was 15 years old.

It was October, 1956, and I was elk and deer hunting on Canfield Mountain just outside

of Cordillane, Idaho.

I lived just 10 miles from Canfield Mountain, so after school I used to drive my old car up to Canfield and find

an old logging road and walk it, three steps at a time until it got dark. The huge thing,

at least eight foot tall and I would guess five to six hundred pounds, stepped out of the trees

...