I am 61 and I believe my first Bigfoot encounter happened only recently.

I'm an avid wildlife photographer. It's a passion of mine and came about after a nasty

breakup with a girlfriend a decade ago. Taking pictures motivated me and helped me cope with

my issues at the time.

I stalked the forest with my camera lens, and when I'm in the woods, my perceptive hunting

techniques become sharpened. I slow my walking speed which helps to

control my breathing and I hide within the shrubs and when hiking down a trail

I use its edge instead of its center. I hunt for tracks and listen a 11 years old. Many a time I was miles from my house but my home was the wilderness.

I would never tell my parents where I was even though I would be gone for hours.

They knew me and just accepted it. Those were more innocent times.

There were numerous occasions in the woods that I heard suspicious sounds and smelled

putrid odors.

I once found a 15-inch human track in the mid-summer within the sugar sand in a hundred degree heat.

That sand is blistering hot at those temperatures, and I could only wonder what bubble would be miles in the woods barefooted walking on fire sand.

At the time I lived in a small town named Lake Helen, the population of 1300, and it surrounded by thick woods and swamps.

There were stories around Lake Helen concerning a creature who the locals had given the nickname, the Mole Man.

It allegedly was ripping the heads off of cattle and leaving the bodies,

and it had been seen on several dirt roads starting between the orange groves

and it was described as a very tall creature with red glowing eyes.

I was going to kill the mole man. I warned my mother that if I ever saw that monster,

I would stab it with my Indian-headed deer-antlared handle hunting knife. Unbeknownst to me my mother my uncle had concocted an

elaborate prank on me. My uncle snuck into my bedroom walk-in closet.

...