My story took place south of Bear Mountain in La Flore County. My husband and I had a three-year-old and were tired of the hustle and bustle. So, for my birthday, he surprised me with an empty shell cabin on the mountain.

We both loved the outdoors. Even though I am a little lady, I still like to go hunting, hiking, and any other outdoor activity to prove I’m as good as the best of them. It was fitting that my husband moved me to this beautiful mountain. My husband drove a truck six months out of the ear, leaving me alone, but we both felt safe making the move.

Our cabin was finished in time for winter, which was right around the corner. One day, my son and I were home alone. It was about dusk, but still nice and warm outside. While my son played in the baby pool, I sat on the porch with a cup of coffee and enjoyed myself. He and I always heard things like knocking when we were outside, but we were in the woods after all, and I have always been open to anything new out there.

As we were sitting there, we heard growling and laughter. That was no ordinary forest noise, so I went and got my Ruger. When I came back, my son was pointing to the burn pile, saying, “Boogie Man!”

I froze. There at the burn pile stood four Bigfoots. The male was at least eight feet tall. Next to him was a mother and two younger ones. She was holding one of them as she squatted next to the pile and gnawed on an old ham bone. The other young one had his hand on his mother’s shoulder, staring at us in disbelief, just like we were staring at him. The stench coming from them was so strong that I almost lost my cookies.

“They need a bath,” my son blurted out.

I burst out laughing—out the mouth of babes, as they say. I never did raise my pistol, but the big guy kept his eye on it, so he must have known what it was. After that experience, I started leaving more food out by the burn pile. Nothing much, just scraps from a hunt or apples and things. We never saw them again, but we could hear them in the woods still and knew they got our gifts. Oddly enough, they would leave us gifts in return. A stack of rocks they built for us was still there when we left the cabin years later.

My son is thirty now, and my husband is gone, but I will never forget my time on that enchanting mountain. Even though my son says he doesn’t remember, I’m glad for the time we had with our forest neighbors.



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