I grew up in North Texas where my dad, my brother and I used to chuckle about my grandmother

always talking about big foot.

She was from Oklahoma.

Although we have no records to prove it, we believe she was Choctaw, Indian.

Our name was Anis Nation.

We always thought she was off her rocker.

That is until.

One week in when I was in high school, I went deer hunting with my dad and brother.

We were out at a deer lease just west of Jacksboro, Texas.

Dad had his truck and we were staying in one of those pop-up crank style campers.

Each end of the camper folded out, forming the twin-size beds where we slept.

The walls, if they could be called that, were made of heavy-duty, cellophane-style plastic.

They were not clear, which allowed for a little privacy.

But in the evening, light and motion could be seen inside the camper.

We didn't have much luck hunting our last day there, so we all crashed relatively early.

Dad was sleeping at one end and my brother and I were sleeping at the other.

Sometime in the night, I was awakened when I felt the camper shake a little.

My dad and brother were both sound sleepers, I'm not.

It took a moment to register that I had felt something but it was late and I was tired

and I was only half awake.

I blew it off and tried to go back to sleep.

A few minutes later, the camper shook violently.

...