M.K. Davis – Have You Seen the New Interview?
For those of us obsessed with the weird “Bigfoot Massacre” theory… you may be interested in reading the new interview with M.K. Davis by Steven Streufert on Bigfoot’s Blog. I’ve visited Steven at his Bigfoot Books store just east of Willow Creek, CA, and can see that he probably has plenty of time to work on his interviews with Bigfoot researchers between chats with customers. He’s been producing a great series of interview postings on that blog… including interviews with Daniel Perez and David Paulides.
Anyhow, the new interview is with M.K. Davis, and will help us all get a grip on understanding who he is and why he thinks someone killed a Bigfoot at Bluff Creek!
While I’m talking about Steven, I should mention he’s started a second blog to write about Bigfoot books. Since he owns a rather large used bookstore and sells both new and used books about Bigfoot, he’s also done a lot of reading. Here’s his blog with a Bibliography of books on Bigfoot, Sasquatch and the Yeti.
Weird Stuff Seen in the Woods
I surf through the Bigfoot Forums message board almost every day, looking for new information about Bigfoot (what else?) … and I noticed this outstandingly entertaining thread about weird things seen in the woods: Creepiest thing you found or saw when hunting for BF, that wasn’t, Gold Miners, Meth Freaks, Hippies, and More!.
Examples of creepy things Bigfoot researchers found out in the middle of the forest: clothing, car parts, a crow tied high in a tree, a ritual site, and more. Definitely there’s lots of strange things happening out in the boonies, and a lot of it has nothing to do with Bigfoot.
I wondered about the car hood found on a remote mountainside. My partner suggests it was placed there by a tornado. Could have been, but that can’t account for all these creepy things. I think the weirdest thing in the woods… is sometimes another human being.
September 28, 2009
Bigfoot Fiction: “North American Primates” by Shane Durgee
Book review by Linda Martin – © 2009
Shane Durgee’s first book is a work of fiction called North American Primates — a fantastical, frenetic fantasy about Clay Sturgeon, a man whose tent was attacked by a Bigfoot while he was hiking with a friend. Clay becomes obsessed and must return to the site of his encounter in New York’s Adirondack Mountains many times in his search for communion with “The Man.”
Obsession seems like a reasonable trait for this particular character who is a pathetic loner whose friends are teenagers, who has never had a reasonable romance. The character is what I might call a degenerate. Not high minded, not ethical or respectable… yet for reasons only a Bigfoot could know, he’s chosen to reveal some Sasquatchy truths to Clay, who keeps showing up in the woods as if asking for lessons.
Clay Sturgeon goes through many changes during the course of this 211-page novel. The first-person narrative is highly entertaining though a bit crude, in some passages. That in itself should tell you a bit about who Clay is and why he needs change in his life.
Clay Sturgeon started the novel as a good for nothing, do almost nothing, near waste of human life.. but found himself through squatching. In the end he’s a somebody… thanks to “The Man.” Clay has enough redeeming traits to make the reader care about his squatching adventures. He takes form, morphing from a ball of human ooze into a person of stature because of his contacts with a couple fairly decent Sasquatches. Other characters in the book as are similarly well drawn. The author created a cast of realistic characters whose faults are substantial and must be believed. I’d have to say that the most likable of the bunch is Pickerel, the cat, though in a strange twist of fate he too is greatly changed before the novel’s final pages.
The weak point of the book is, in my opinion, description. This is also a weak spot in my fiction writing so I’m not saying I’m a description expert. Descriptions are there, but they are sketchy. Some would consider this a good thing. This book is action oriented, a psychological thriller of sorts. You get to hear what Clay does and thinks. Apparently Clay wasn’t big into nature study and appreciation, other than for his desire to see and interact with “The Man.”
There are some utterly weird and unexpected plot twists. I thought at first I was holding a fairly predictable novel, ie: “Man meets Sasquatch, gets into squatching, and has another sighting.” Though that would thrill most Bigfoot researchers, that’s not the plot of this novel. It gets fairly strange in places. You would be surprised. I certainly was!
The perceived theme of the book may vary depending on personal perspective. To me, it was that a young man discovered his self worth by pursuing an issue most people would avoid. Through his unique persistence, he discovered that he too could be more than a worthless degenerate. You see what squatching can do for people? If this novel makes it to movie status they’ll need a few good fur costumes and someone who looks like a total socially incompetent nerd to play the lead character. Add a few wooden ducks, and there you’d have Clay Sturgeon!
I’m a novelist too, so naturally I think Bigfoot fiction is awesome, even if it isn’t written the way I’d have done it. I’m into writing mostly for children and teens, whereas Durgee’s novel is definitely for adults and not for kids. I applaud Shane Durgee on the development, plot, and especially the fine characterization work in his first novel, and for getting it edited and into print. Well done!
If you want some fictitious Bigfoot entertainment, North American Primates is well worth the read. Keep an eye on the Red Weaver website – the book should be published during October 2009. If you’d like to be further impressed, check out the colorful illustrations at ShaneDurgee.Com.
May 2, 2008
Theodore Roosevelt’s Bigfoot Story
This is an excerpt from Theodore Roosevelt’s 1893 book, The Wilderness Hunter. In this excerpt he wrote about a Sasquatch encounter near the Salmon River in Idaho.
Frontiersmen are not, as a rule, apt to be very superstitious. They lead lives too hard and practical, and have too little imagination in things spiritual and supernatural. I have heard but few ghost stories while living on the frontier, and those few were of a perfectly commonplace and conventional type. But I once listened to a goblin-story, which rather impressed me.
A grizzled, weather beaten old mountain hunter, named Bauman who, born and had passed all of his life on the Frontier, told it the story to me. He must have believed what he said, for he could hardly repress a shudder at certain points of the tale; but he was of German ancestry, and in childhood had doubtless been saturated with all kinds of ghost and goblin lore. So that many fearsome superstitions were latent in his mind; besides, he knew well the stories told by the Indian medicine men in their winter camps, of the snow-walkers, and the specters, [spirits, ghosts & apparitions] the formless evil beings that haunt the forest depths, and dog and waylay the lonely wanderer who after nightfall passes through the regions where they lurk. It may be that when overcome by the horror of the fate that befell his friend, and when oppressed by the awful dread of the unknown, he grew to attribute, both at the time and still more in remembrance, weird and elfin traits to what was merely some abnormally wicked and cunning wild beast; but whether this was so or not, no man can say.
When the event occurred, Bauman was still a young man, and was trapping with a partner among the mountains dividing the forks of the Salmon from the head of Wisdom River. Not having had much luck, he and his partner determined to go up into a particularly wild and lonely pass through which ran a small stream said to contain many beavers. The pass had an evil reputation because the year before a solitary hunter who had wandered into it was slain, seemingly by a wild beast, the half eaten remains being afterwards found by some mining prospectors who had passed his camp only the night before.The memory of this event, however, weighted very lightly with the two trappers, who were as adventurous and hardy as others of their kind. They took their two lean mountain ponies to the foot of the pass where they left them in an open beaver meadow, the rocky timber-clad ground being from there onward impracticable for horses. They then struck out on foot through the vast, gloomy forest, and in about four hours reached a little open glade where they concluded to camp, as signs of game were plenty.
There was still an hour or two of daylight left, and after building a brush lean-to and throwing down and opening their packs, they started upstream. The country was very dense and hard to travel through, as there was much down timber, although here and there the somber woodland was broken by small glades of mountain grass. At dusk they again reached camp. The glade in which it was pitched was not many yards wide, the tall, close-set pines and firs rising round it like a wall. On one side was a little stream, beyond which rose the steep mountains slope, covered with the unbroken growth of evergreen forest.They were surprised to find that during their absence something, apparently a bear, had visited camp, and had rummaged about among their things, scattering the contents of their packs, and in sheer wantonness destroying their lean-to. The footprints of the beast were quite plain, but at first they paid no particular heed to them, busying themselves with rebuilding the lean-to, laying out their beds and stores and lighting the fire.While Bauman was making ready supper, it being already dark, his companion began to examine the tracks more closely, and soon took a brand from the fire to follow them up, where the intruder had walked along a game trail after leaving the camp. When the brand flickered out, he returned and took another, repeating his inspection of the footprints very closely. Coming back to the fire, he stood by it a minute or two, peering out into the darkness, and suddenly remarked, “Bauman, that bear has been walking on two legs.”
Bauman laughed at this, but his partner insisted that he was right, and upon again examining the tracks with a torch, they certainly did seem to be made by but two paws or feet. However, it was too dark to make sure. After discussing whether the footprints could possibly be those of a human being, and coming to the conclusion that they could not be, the two men rolled up in their blankets, and went to sleep under the lean-to. At midnight Bauman was awakened by some noise, and sat up in his blankets. As he did so his nostrils were struck by a strong, wild-beast odor, and he caught the loom of a great body in the darkness at the mouth of the lean-to. Grasping his rifle, he fired at the vague, threatening shadow, but must have missed, for immediately afterwards he heard the smashing of the under wood as the thing, whatever it was, rushed off into the impenetrable blackness of the forest and the night.
After this the two men slept but little, sitting up by the rekindled fire, but they heard nothing more. In the morning they started out to look at the few traps they had set the previous evening and put out new ones. By an unspoken agreement they kept together all day, and returned to camp towards evening. On nearing it they saw, hardly to their astonishment that the lean-to had again been torn down. The visitor of the preceding day had returned, and in wanton malice had tossed about their camp kit and bedding, and destroyed the shanty. The ground was marked up by its tracks, and on leaving the camp it had gone along the soft earth by the brook. The footprints were as plain as if on snow, and, after a careful scrutiny of the trail, it certainly did seem as if, whatever the thing was, it had walked off on but two legs.
The men, thoroughly uneasy, gathered a great heap of dead logs and kept up a roaring fire throughout the night, one or the other sitting on guard most of the time. About midnight the thing came down through the forest opposite, across the brook, and stayed there on the hillside for nearly an hour. They could hear the branches crackle as it moved about, and several times it uttered a harsh, grating, long-drawn moan, a peculiarly sinister sound. Yet it did not venture near the fire. In the morning the two trappers, after discussing the strange events of the last 36 hours, decided that they would shoulder their packs and leave the valley that afternoon. They were the more ready to do this because in spite of seeing a good deal of game sign they had caught very little fur. However it was necessary first to go along the line of their traps and gather them, and this they started out to do. All the morning they kept together, picking up trap after trap, each one empty. On first leaving camp they had the disagreeable sensation of being followed. In the dense spruce thickets they occasionally heard a branch snap after they had passed; and now and then there were slight rustling noises among the small pines to one side of them.
At noon they were back within a couple of miles of camp. In the high, bright sunlight their fears seemed absurd to the two armed men, accustomed as they were, through long years of lonely wandering in the wilderness, to face every kind of danger from man, brute or element. There were still three beaver traps to collect from a little pond in a wide ravine near by. Bauman volunteered to gather these and bring them in, while his companion went ahead to camp and made ready the packs.
On reaching the pond Bauman found three beavers in the traps, one of which had been pulled loose and carried into a beaver house. He took several hours in securing and preparing the beaver, and when he started homewards he marked, with some uneasiness, how low the sun was getting. As he hurried toward camp, under the tall trees, the silence and desolation of the forest weighted on him. His feet made no sound on the pine needles and the slanting sunrays, striking through among the straight trunks, made a gray twilight in which objects at a distance glimmered indistinctly. There was nothing to break the gloomy stillness which, when there is no breeze, always broods over these somber primeval forests. At last he came to the edge of the little glade where the camp lay and shouted as he approached it, but got no answer. The campfire had gone out, though the thin blue smoke was still curling upwards.
Near it lay the packs wrapped and arranged. At first Bauman could see nobody; nor did he receive an answer to his call. Stepping forward he again shouted, and as he did so his eye fell on the body of his friend, stretched beside the trunk of a great fallen spruce. Rushing towards it the horrified trapper found that the body was still warm, but that the neck was broken, while there were four great fang marks in the throat. The footprints of the unknown beast-creature, printed deep in the soft soil, told the whole story. The unfortunate man, having finished his packing, had sat down on the spruce log with his face to the fire, and his back to the dense woods, to wait for his companion. While thus waiting, his monstrous assailant, which must have been lurking in the woods, waiting for a chance to catch one of the adventurers unprepared, came silently up from behind, walking with long noiseless steps and seemingly still on two legs. Evidently unheard, it reached the man, and broke his neck by wrenching his head back with its fore paws, while it buried its teeth in his throat. It had not eaten the body, but apparently had romped and gamboled around it in uncouth, ferocious glee, occasionally rolling over and over it; and had then fled back into the soundless depths of the woods.
Bauman, utterly unnerved and believing that the creature with which he had to deal was something either half human or half devil, some great goblin-beast, abandoned everything but his rifle and struck off at speed down the pass, not halting until he reached the beaver meadows where the hobbled ponies were still grazing. Mounting, he rode onwards through the night, until beyond reach of pursuit.”
What follows is another version of the same story. I believe it may be an earlier version that was since edited to include more information.
It was told (to me) by a grizzled, weather-beaten old mountain hunter, named Bauman, who was born and had passed all his life on the frontier. He must have believed what he said, for he could hardly repress a shudder at certain points of the tales.
When the event occurred Bauman was still a young man, and was trapping with a partner among the mountains dividing the forks of the Salmon from the head of Wisdom River. Not having had much luck, he and his partner determined to go up into a particularly wild and lonely pass through which ran a small stream said to contain many beaver. The pass had an evil reputation because the year before a solitary hunter who had wandered into it was there slain, seemingly by a wild beast, the half-eaten remains being afterwards found by some mining prospectors who had passed his camp only the night before.
The memory of this event, however, weighed very lightly with the two trappers, who were as adventurous and hardy as others of their kind… They then struck out on foot through the vast, gloomy forest, and in about 4 hours reached a little open glade where they concluded to camp, as signs of game were plenty.There was still an hour or two of daylight left, and after building a brush lean-to and throwing down and opening their packs, they started up stream.
At dusk they again reached They were surprised to find that during their absence something, apparently a bear. had visited camp, and had rummaged about among their things, scattering the contents of their packs, and in sheer wantonness destroying their lean-to. The footprints of the beast were quite plain, but at first they paid no particular heed to them, busying themselves with rebuilding the lean-to, laying out their beds and stores, and lighting the fire.
While Bauman was making ready supper, it being already dark, his companion began to examine the tracks more closely, and soon took a brand from the fire to follow them up, where the intruder had walked along a game trail after leaving the camp. . . . Coming back to the fire, he stood by it a minute or two, peering out into the darkness, and suddenly remarked: ”Bauman, that bear has been walking on two legs.” Bauman laughed at this, but his partner insisted that he was right, and upon again examining the tracks with a torch, they certainly did seem to be made by but two paws, or feet. However, it was too dark to make sure. After discussing whether the footprints could possibly be those of a human being, and coming to the conclusion that they could not be, the two men rolled up in their blankets, and went to sleep under the lean-to.
At midnight Bauman was awakened by some noise, and sat up in his blankets. As he did so his nostrils were struck by a strong, wild-beast odor, and he caught the loom of a great body in the darkness at the mouth of the lean-to. Grasping his rifle, he fired at the vague, threatening shadow, but must have missed, for immediately afterwards he heard the smashing of the underwood as the thing, whatever it was, rushed off into the impenetrable blackness of the forest and the night.
After this the two men slept but little, sitting up by the rekindled fire, but they heard nothing more. In the morning they started out to look at the few traps they had set the previous evening and put out new ones. By an unspoken agreement they kept together all day, and returned to camp towards evening.
On nearing it they saw, hardly to their astonishment, that the lean-to had been again torn down. The visitor of the preceding day had returned, and in wanton malice had tossed about their camp kit and bedding, and destroyed the shanty. The ground was marked up by its tracks, and on leaving the camp it had gone along the soft earth by the brook, where the footprints were as plain as if on snow! and, after a careful scrutiny of the trail, it certainly did seem as lf, whatever the thing was. it had walked off on but two legs.
The men, thoroughly uneasy, gathered a great heap of dead logs, and kept up a roaring fire throughout the night, one or the other sitting on guard most of the time. About midnight the thing came down through the forest opposite, across the brook, and stayed there on the hill-side for nearly an hour. They could hear the branches crackle as it moved about, and several times it uttered a harsh, grating, long-drawn moan, a peculiarly sinister sound. Yet it did not venture near the fire.
In the morning the two trappers, after discussing the strange events of the last 36 hours, decided that they would shoulder their packs and leave the valley that afternoon. . .
All the morning they kept together, picking up trap after trap, each one empty. On first leaving camp they had the disagreeable sensation of being followed. In the dense spruce thickets they occasionally heard a branch snap after they had passed ; and now and then there were slight rustling noises among the small pines to one side of them.
At noon they were back within a couple of giles of camp. In the high, bright sunlight their fears seemed absurd to the two armed men, accustomed as they were, through long years of lonely wandering in the wilderness to face every kind of danger from man, brute, or element. There were still three beaver traps to collect from a little pond in a wide ravine near by. Bauman volunteered to gather these and bring them in, while his companion went ahead to camp and made ready the packs.
Reaching the pond Bauman found 3 beavers in the traps, One of which had been pulled loose and carried into a beaver house. He took several hours in securing and preparing the beaver, and when he started homewards he marked, with some uneasiness how low the sun was getting.
At last he came to the edge of the little glade where the camp lay, and shouted as he approached it, but got no answer. The camp fire had gone out, though the thin blue smoke was still curling up wards. Near it lay the packs wrapped and arranged. At first Bauman see nobody; nor did he receive an answer to his call.
Stepping forward he again shouted, and as he did so his eye fell On the body of his friend, stretched beside the trunk of a great fallen spruce. Rushing towards it the horrified trapper found that the body was still warm, but that the neck was broken, while there were four great fang Darks in the throat.
The footprints of the unknown beast-creature, printed deep in the soft soil, told the whole story.
The unfortunate man, having finished his packing, had sat down on the spruce log with his face to the fire, and his back to the dense woods, to wait for his companion, …. It had not eaten the body, but apparently had romped and gambolled round it in uncouth, ferocious glee, occasionally rolling over and over it; and had then fled back into the soundless depths of the woods.
Bauman, utterly unnerved, and believing that the creature with which he had to deal was something either half human or half devil, some great goblin-beast, abandoned everything but his rifle and struck off a speed down the pass, not halting until he reached the beaver meadows where the hobbled ponies were still grazing. Mounting, he rode onwards through the night, until far beyond the reach of pursuit.
There are many other States in the United States that have reported giant creatures that roam about their mountain wildernesses.However, I do not have enough verified information to fully go into it at the present time. Anyway, that would be another book.
April 8, 2007
The Tobico Theory
Broken branches on trees are a sign Bigfoot researchers look for as a proof that Bigfoot could have been in an area, but perhaps Sasquatch isn’t the only explanation.
Lynn Conley, of Bay County, Michigan, along with her friend, Charles Robinson of Sanford, recently found a section of the Tobico Marsh where a group of 15 to 20 poplars and oaks had been snapped off at a height of from 2 to 10 feet.
Conley’s comments: ”I looked at it really carefully. I thought at first it might have been a bear. But there were no claw marks, just snaps. My first inclination was bigfoot. Honestly, it was so weird. The air was eerie. It was something I can’t even hardly describe.”
When she and her friend were getting back into their car they heard another tree snap. “There was no wind, no reason for it to snap.”
Robinson, her friend, says it is common to see dead and fallen trees in the area, but the trees they found were alive. He says he’s a naturalist who grew up in the woods.
Since the broken pieces were not lying in only one direction, a storm was ruled out. The trees were too thick to wrap a hand around and didn’t have enough branches to be broken by a buildup of snow or ice. So Robinson put forth what I will call “The Tobico Theory” – that because the area had an exceptionally wet winter, the trees were saturated with moisture which quickly froze; then just like a frozen pipe, the trees snapped off.
Source: Is bigfoot trouncing through Tobico? Probably not, but it is one theory behind mysterious tree breaks – published by the Bay City Times and Mlive.Com
About the area: Tobico Marsh
Photos of the area: Tobico Marsh at Dusk – Bay City, MI
