All right, here's another Bigfoot story. My story began five years ago in Pickens County, Alabama.

An older cousin of mine had told me that I could hunt its property where he had planted fields that no one else was hunting.

The field I chose was 150 yards by 100 yards with a swamp on one side and a cutover in front. I went in before daylight and I

climbed into his shooting house. It was large enough to sleep in if I'd wanted to.

I stayed all day long without seeing anything.

Finally, at about 4 p.m.

a large group of does came into the field.

I was waiting for a buck, but when one didn't show, I picked

the largest dough and I shot her. The does that were with her ran to cut over thickets. It was

getting dark when I climbed out of the shooting house and I took my rifle and my

cheek flashlight into the back field with me, but I left my backpack behind.

No sooner had I found a blood trail than I heard a weird growl coming

from the other side of the shooting house. I couldn't place what animal it was, but that

put me on edge. An own enemy is always easier to face than an unknown enemy.

And then to make matters worse, it was moving toward me. I held my rifle and my flashlight pointed in the direction of the sound,

but it never came into the light. Fear was pushing my heart rate up as I continued to

scan that direction to find the creature with a menacing growl.

It sounded big enough that I figured I'd only get one shot and that would be it.

But whatever it was, it was probably going to eat me anyway.

Suddenly from over the hill I heard a four-wheeler coming, and to my relief the growling stopped.

We got the deer and we got out of the woods.

When I told my story, everyone laughed at me and they said that I'd been living in the city for too long.

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