Here's an email from Greg.

I'm 61 and I believe my first big-foot 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 stalk 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 to the silence around me.

I've loved exploring the woods since I was 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 and 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 and walking on fire sand.

At the time I lived in a small town named Lake Helen, the population of 1300 and it surrounded

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