Saturday, August 27, 2011

Cool Bigfoot Stuff

Hey, this stuff is cool. Order at Bigfoot Headquarters(Disclaimer - I get nothing from this, except seeing a friend hopefully not starve.)

Bigfoot Bomber Hats

Bigfoot Bomber
Don't let Bigfoot hear you shivering this winter. You'll be warm in the woods with this faux fur lined hat with earflaps. (And if your teeth are still chattering, try a using a protective mouth piece.) Warning: not recommended for wear during Faux Season. 

Also available in Blaze Orange. While we are not sure if Bigfoot is color blind, we do know for a fact that the average hunter can usually see blaze orange and recognize it is not something he would typically eat. Warning: not recommended for wear during Carrot Season. 

Koozie with Official Bigfoot Field Researcher

Personalized eBook Reader Covers
Personalized eBook covers to protect your Kindle, Nook or other eReader!

Koozie with Official Bigfoot Field Researcher

Official Bigfoot Field Researcher Koozie
Not everyone can claim to be a Bigfoot Research Specialist! Drink apart, officially, with any of these foam drink coolers. 

Official Bigfoot Field Researcher Caps
This is THE one cap to have if you want hands-free illumination while beating a trail out of the wilderness after dark. Featuring Electronic Contiguous Beam (ECB™) Technology, these caps feature embeded side by side LED optic lights that form a powerful beam of light for either up-close or distance applications.

The 2 front visor lights shine forward up to 40 feet, and a third undervisor light shines down for close up work! These powerful white LEDs create 22,000 to 25,000 MCD (millicandelas) each and have battery life of over 25 hours. (Batteries are replaceable and can be found in most any store.)

Hat is fully washable and electronics are waterproof. Great for Emergency, Professional, Outdoor, or Home usage - or for tracking Bigfoot on the trail at night!

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Who am I?

I've been really busy with flyfishing clients, now that the rivers are back down and not flooding—but I was looking at this blog and wondering what to post when I noticed I had never introduced myself. So, here's a bit about me...

I grew up in the state of Washington, in the heart of Bigfoot country. I didn’t know a thing about Bigfoot until I got lost at the age of six and was then found and subsequently adopted by a kindly Bigfoot family. 
I lived with them until I was 16, when they finally gave up on ever socializing me into Bigfoot ways (I hated garlic and pancakes, refused to sleep in a nest, wouldn’t hunt wild pigs, and on top of it all, my feet were small, being a mere size 10). 
My Bigfoot family then sent me off to Evergreen State College in nearby Olympia, thinking it would be liberal enough to take care of a kid with few redeeming qualities, plus they liked the thick foliage around the college and figured I could live there, saving them money for housing. 
At Evergreen, I studied wildlife biology, eventually returning to the wilds, after first learning to read and write and regale everyone with my wild tales. I eventually became a flyfishing guide, and during my many travels in the wilds, I collected stories from others who have had contact with Bigfoot, also known as Sasquatch.
Because of my background, I'm considered to be the world’s foremost Bigfoot expert (at least so by myself, if not by anyone else). I've spent many a fun evening around campfires with my clients, telling stories. Some of those clients had some pretty good stories of their own, which I've put in my books.
If you think being raised by Bigfoot was easy, you might possibly be a romantic type. I still have dreams about my family, even though I haven't seen them for many years. I can never catch up with them, they're always either somewhere in British Columbia or Washington, depending on the season, and someone told me recently that they'd been spotted down in South Carolina.
But last night I dreamed we were all back together again and had rented an apartment in downtown Tucson, as that seemed an unlikely place for anyone to look for Bigfoot. Of course, they're nocturnal, so can live about anywhere and not be noticed, as everyone's usually asleep when they go out.
It was kind of a scary dream, because trying to live with a Bigfoot family in an urban apartment is the stuff of which nightmares are made. When I woke up, I was glad to be at home with my wife and dogs. Whew.
Maybe someday I'll write a book about being raised by Bigfoot. They can put it on the shelf next to the one about feral kids raised by wolves and such. Of course, it wasn't all bad by any means. I do know how to take care of myself in the wilds—how to find huckleberries, forecast the weather, and whack on trees with sticks when I'm bored. But I will say that growing up around Bigfoot kind of wrecked my sense of smell.
But I still don't understand why my wife would rather get take-out than eat out with me...

Thursday, August 18, 2011

New book out - almost free

This in straight from my publisher:

"Rusty Wilson’s the kind of guy that if he sees you in town, he’ll buy you lunch. But since Rusty’s rarely in town, instead of buying you lunch, he’d like to give you a huge bargain price on a few of his stories so you can sample the crazy and mysterious world of Bigfoot. These great stories were collected by Rusty from his flyfishing clients around the campfire—and they’re stories you’ll never forget—even if you’d like to!

This little ebook has three new tales and two bonus ones from Rusty’s previous books, plus a special sample from a cool Bigfoot mystery—all in all, the equivalent of a 60-page print book.

So, even though Rusty’s trying to be generous here, read only if you dare!"

I guess for $.99, you can't go wrong, especially if you like Bigfoot.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

The Bigfoot Wedding

This story is from my latest book, which hasn't yet been published, so I'm giving you a sneak peek here. It was told by a retired guy who had come to love flyfishing and wanted to have a pro show him some of the ropes. He came on a three-day guided trip and told this crazy story around a big campfire up in Montana’s Yellowstone River country. That particular trip was a lot of fun, and he became a regular after that, coming on one of my trips every year. He was always game to tell this story, and it was quite the tale.  -Rusty
My name is Tanner, and what I’m about to relate happened in the mid-1990s, maybe about 1996, near Telluride, Colorado.

I grew up near Telluride, and I was a true ski bum for a number of years. I would do anything to ski, which included sleeping (freezing) in my car, working in ski rental shops, couch surfing, washing dishes, you name it. Anything so I could ski, which I loved. 

I finally got on the ski patrol there, which was a dream job in some ways, though the pay wasn’t that great. A bunch of us rented a three-bedroom apartment and managed to get by. I think there were six of us, and I got the couch for reduced rent. But we didn’t care, we were all ski bums. 

I gradually decided I should move on and get some job skills, so I left Telluride when I was in my late twenties and moved to Grand Junction, where I got a career job with the Department of Wildlife. That was great, because I was still outside a lot, but now I had some job security and a decent wage. I stayed there until I recently retired.

But this event happened in Telluride, and I’ve never seen anything like what I saw since, even though I’m outside a lot. In a way, it’s kind of funny, though at the time I was terrified.

I had managed to wrangle a job that summer with the ski area, working as a lift operator. It was a pretty cushy job, though it didn’t pay much. I ran the Coonskin Lift, the one that comes right up out of town. I think it’s still operating, though I know they’ve added the gondola now, too. But in the summer, it was just a tourist thing and you don’t get all the crazy skiers who fall when they’re getting on and off, making you have to stop everything all the time.

I was working the ski shack at the top of the lift, where everyone gets off to either ski back down or go to the next lift, although in the summer everyone was obviously hiking. The altitude at the shack was 10,800 feet. 

If I recall correctly, it was late July, the time the monsoons start to hit the area. Colorado mountain weather is pretty nice in June, but come mid-summer, the monsoons hit, which means lots of rain and lightning. Usually, the mornings are nice, but by afternoon, you’d better be off the mountains.

So, I was running the lift, and everything was fine, just a typical day with a few hikers and sightseers. It wasn’t too busy, and I managed to grab some lunch while running the lift.

It wasn’t long after lunch that my boss showed up to inform me that we were getting a huge bunch of people soon because there was a wedding at the top of the mountain. I was to be extra careful, as some of these people would be older and not in such great shape, and I might have to slow the lift down for them to get off. And on top of that, they’d all be in fancy wedding attire, with high heels and all that. Some big star of the Miami Dolphins, a fullback, was getting married.

Great. I couldn’t wait. A bunch of dressed-up city folk trying to ride the Coonskin Lift, which was very steep and scary. Make my day. I started laughing, but my boss got kind of tense and said this was serious. He knew I could be a smart-ass, and he knew that big money was something to be respected in Telluride, at least every one else seemed to think so—everyone except the crowd I ran with, that is. 

I stopped laughing, but I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face at the thought.

So, my boss decided to stick around and make sure everything went well. It was a big wedding party, about 300 people, a big responsibility for him. I guess he decided he needed to handle it, as I wasn’t competent enough, even though I’d been running the lift alone for over a month by then.

Well, it wasn’t long before people started showing up. I don’t know what the Coonskin Lift capacity is, but I think we had all 300 people on it when what I’ll call “the Event” happened. So, picture a very steep and scary ski lift, the kind with only a bar across the front to hold you in, all crammed with uppity-dressed people, tuxes and high heels and crazy long dresses and even hats and all. Man, I wish I’d had a camera, cause just that alone was something I’d never seen before or since. It belonged in a movie.

There was a huge variety of people, from young to old. Some looked like they were scared to death and some were laughing and having a great time. Of course, it took awhile to get everyone onto the lift. One chair would come into place, then the lift would stop while people boarded, then the same thing would happen again. I was at the top, like I said, but I could tell what was happening from how the lift went. I knew it would take a long time to get everyone off when they got up to my lift shack.

So, during all this, which was a while, I was noticing the sky was getting dark. Clouds were moving in really fast, which is typical for the mountains. My boss was also noting the same thing, and he started looking even more tense. Usually, when the clouds came in, we would just shut the lift down until it all moved through, but no way could we do that with what was going on.

Everything seemed to take forever. Getting all these people on the lift was a big deal. I watched as cloud tendrils began wrapping around the higher peaks. Holy crap, I thought, we could be in for a wild ride. 

Finally, the lift stopped stopping, and I knew everyone was loaded on. Sure enough, here they came. I could see down the slope and the entire lift was loaded to the gills. It began its slow upward climb just as lightning started popping all around the upper peaks.

Man, that lift seemed like it was going even slower than normal, but I knew it was just because I wanted it to go fast and get up here before anyone got smacked by lightning. Now the lightning was popping all around us.

This is when the Event happened. My boss and I were both in the lift shack, and he had his hands on the lift mechanism, ready to stop it whenever the first passengers arrived. They were now about two-thirds of the way up the hill.

I was looking out the open door at the peaks above me, watching the lightning, when I heard a weird noise come from my boss—it was literally a scream, if you can imagine a man screaming. It scared the crap out of me, and I turned to see what was going on. He was pointing to the lift shack window, but I didn’t see anything. He then started kind of babbling, “My God, my God” while he pointed at the window.

I stepped out of the shack to see what was going on, and that was when I saw it. By then it had turned and was loping down the steep hill. I think my boss scared it as much as it scared my boss, cause it wasn’t wasting any time. And it was running directly down the Coonskin Run, right under the big wedding party.

I knew immediately what it was—a Bigfoot. I’d never seen one or even thought of seeing one before—Bigfoot wasn’t much of a big deal in Colorado at that time. Since then, there have been more and more sightings, maybe because there are more people out and about, I don’t know. But it was a sight that’s etched into my memory, the backside of a Bigfoot, running down Coonskin. The creature was enormous and very dark, covered head to toe in what looked like black hair—not fur like a bear would have—but hair. The hair was long and hung off its arms, which themselves hung down almost to its knees.

I couldn’t believe how fast this thing was. It was running down Coonskin faster than any Miami Dolphins fullback could possibly run. That thing was moving!

Now for the crazy part of the story. 

As I came back into the lift shack, I noticed my boss had a glazed look on his face, but he was also kind of gesticulating at me as if trying to say something. I think the poor guy was in shock at that point.

OK, now I noticed what was going on. He’d slammed the lift bar when he saw the Bigfoot and the lift was now going at top speed. Oh man, this was bad, real bad, cause I knew it was going to jump track at that speed with that much weight on it.

Sure enough, all of a sudden it stopped with a lurch, the chairs swaying back and forth and people yelling. It was such a stunning chain of events, I almost started shaking from the stress.

Here we were, lightning now popping around, with an inoperative lift crammed with people dressed for a wedding, many of who were now screaming and yelling as they witnessed a Bigfoot running directly under the lift, where they now sat dangling in the air. What a scenario.

My boss was now sitting helplessly on the floor, so I took over. I went outside and yelled up at the people closest to me to pass the word down the lift that help was coming. Of course, it wasn’t, not yet, anyway, but the last thing we needed were people panicking, many who didn’t want to even be on that lift in the first place, especially with lightning popping around.

So, I could hear people yelling the message on down the line. I went back into the shack and radioed down to the bottom that we needed help. Before long, I saw an ATV coming up the slope. By now, the Bigfoot had decided to head into the trees, and was long gone, leaving only a residue of terror and bafflement. I think a lot of people thought it was some kind of a gag.

It now started to pour rain. The guys on the ATV were soon climbing up the lift tower where the derailment had happened, checking it out. Those guys should’ve got commendations for taking their lives in their hands, cause now the lightning was just crazy. I saw and heard one bolt at the same time, it was that close. They were up there for some time, then came back down and on up to the shack, where they informed me that we were going to have to evacuate everyone off the lift.

This would be a slow and treacherous process, especially with so many people involved. They radioed down, and soon people working for the ski area starting coming up the slope. I think there were probably a good 50 or 60 people there helping before it was all over, including a search and rescue team. 

The ski people brought a bunch of bosun’s chairs with them that the ski area kept just for this purpose. These little chairs were lightweight and attached to the end of a rope. If you were stuck on the lift, the M.O. was to get ahold of it and sort of scoot it under you until you were well in it, then you latched yourself in and were lowered by whoever was holding the end of the rope.

So, we now had to throw the bosun's chairs over the cable to lower people down with. You would take the chair and start spinning it around your head until it got up a lot of momentum, then you’d hurl it as hard as you could, hoping it would go up over the lift cable. Once you had it over, you were home free, cause then you could use it over and over to lower people. We had a minimum of three people holding each rope, acting as a belay while each person was lowered. The person on the lift would slip the chair under them, then when they were ready, they’d wave or yell, and we’d yell "on belay!" and start lowering them, one by one.

Many were terrified of getting on the spindly looking chairs as the height was really scary, and I didn’t blame them. We had several people who refused to even get into the chairs, but we persuaded them by saying it was that or spend the night and who knows how long on the chair lift. That would finally get them moving, but I mean they were scared stiff.

As for those of us on the belay end, holding the ropes, it was steep terrain and hard to stand up, especially with a rope around your waist and some scared person on the other end, being lowered little by little. It took us four hours to get them all off the lift. 

By then, the rain had stopped and the storm moved on through, but everyone was still soaked. It was amazing no one was hit by lightning.

The ski area had to do something with all these soaked and unhappy people, so they hired the local taxi service to come up. Telluride Taxi had Suburbans at the time, and they drove up the Coonskin snowcat trail to pick everyone up. The ski area was billed later for this, and I bet it cost them a fortune. 

By the time it was all over, my boss had recovered somewhat and hiked on back down Coonskin Run without saying one word to me. He told me later that he’d seen this black thing staring in through the shack window at him, no more than ten feet away, with a large dark face almost like a human’s. When I told him that I and everyone on the lift had also seen it, I think it helped a bit. Maybe he wasn’t crazy after all.

After it was all over, I just stood there, kind of enjoying it all, watching all these people walking in the grass in their wedding duds, a lot of the women barefoot, as they’d taken off their heels. It seems the majority were kind of having fun, enjoying the adventure, but some people looked outright shocked, mostly the older ones. But everyone was talking about the Bigfoot. I think by then everyone thought it was just a big gag someone had contrived for their enjoyment. A few looked really uncomfortable, like they knew it was real.

By the time it was over, it was nearly sunset. The taxis were long gone, so I had to get myself home. I normally would ride the lift down, but now I had to hike down. I didn’t want to hike down Coonskin, as I was pretty scared by the thought of a Bigfoot around, so I hiked over to the Plunge and came down that way. I was glad when I got into town, and I went home and told my buddies about what had happened. They believed me, so they said, anyway. 

I found out later that the Bigfoot story was soon all over town, and I’d become somewhat of a accidental celebrity. I kind of ran with it for awhile, as it was all in fun, at least if you hadn’t seen the creature and been scared to death, that is.

And in all honesty, I had been scared to death. I didn’t do much hiking at all that summer, and when I was out, I was always looking over my shoulder. I was the last one to operate the Coonskin lift for the summer, as the Gondola went online that year, and the Coonskin lift is now only open during the winter. 

What was a Bigfoot doing on Coonskin? I think it was hungry and was attracted to the big plastic trash bins that set by the snack shack that was about 50 feet above the lift shack. I saw a brown bear up there one day, just mulling around through the trash, and I know they threw a lot of food away in there.

By the time winter came, I was fine, figuring the beast had probably gone somewhere else for the cold season, so I was back on the slopes skiing like a madman. And it was the only time I ever heard of a Bigfoot there, so maybe, like me, it was just wondering what in the heck was going on that wedding day. 

Sunday, August 14, 2011

On Photographing Mr. Big

I've always been puzzled why so many people have encounters with Bigfoot and yet there haven't been any good photos (and we'll leave the PGF out of this, as it's a bit too controversial). I mean, surely someone somewhere would get a good shot. Something besides a blobsquatch, I mean.

This is one of the main arguments people who don't believe in Mr. Big bring up to counter his existence—no photos or films—but I think that maybe there's a valid scientific explanation for this.

There are a number of scenarios that would work and that would still follow the scientific paradigm. For example, what if Bigfoot has developed some sort of hair gel that reflects certain light waves? I mean, of course they would have to keep up with the technological advances of human photography and go from an anti-film gel to an anti-digital gel, but what if? 

And perhaps the human eye can detect things the camera can't (though photographers will say just the opposite), but what if? We can see Mr. Big when conditions are right, but our cameras can't—as long as Mr. Big wears the gel. So, we see him crossing the road ahead of us, but the camera just can't handle it.

But what if Mr. Big gets up one morning and forgets his mousse? Surely that would have happened just once, and we'd have a good photo, but it hasn't. This leads us to the possibility that Bigfoot has a natural built-in deflective gel and doesn't have to bother applying it. Perhaps something that developed as an evolutionary defense against us ever-encroaching humans being able to photograph him.

I mean, humans seeing Bigfoot isn't all that dangerous and might even be a good thing, especially on busy freeways—but being able to capture a Bigfoot on film could lead to all kinds of bad things, like people who never believed before now organizing Bigfoot hunts. So maybe this was a natural development. Makes sense to me...

I'm sure someday this conundrum will be solved, but until then, we need to think outside the box. And perhaps, just perhaps, we'll figure out that just because we can't photograph something, we're a bit presumptive to say it doesn't exist.

Hows about the love my little Beagle has for me (and likewise me for him) and my dear wife worrying about me when I go Bigfootin'? Can't photograph any of that, but it sure does exist. 

Not quite the same you say? I dunno, maybe it is...

Mr. Big just came sauntering along and jumped up and grabbed this limb, swung off it, and landed in the bushes. I swore I got a few good photos, but this tree was all the camera showed when I downloaded the pictures later...

Friday, August 12, 2011

Congress Man

Here's another story from my good friend who's in touch with a band of Bigfoot. (See previous blog entry called A Note from Uncle Hairy.) Some have asked if these are by me, but no, they're honestly not. Maybe some day my friend will let me give out his name, but for now, he wants to remain anon. I think he's afraid of being inundated by Bigfoot researchers, even though he is one.

Hey Rusty,

The other day I was out scouting around here in the boonies and got turned around a bit and was late getting in to my truck. It was getting dark, and just when I got to the outskirts of my camp I spotted a black bear sitting on his haunches sniffing the air down below. No doubt he was thinking I was in camp and was conniving a thieving move. So I snuck up behind him and kicked him in the rump and he leaped up and bucked off for the hills, not even bothering to turn around to see what I was!
That incident reminded me of my first ever meeting with a Bigfoot. It happened up north, nearer to the border than I really should've been. I had been scouting all day and had gotten a ways too far from the camp and so attempted an ill-fated shortcut which led to a couple of circle walks, some thornberry patches, and deep river crossings. I was tired, wet, and hungry.
Anyway, I finally sorted my bearings and upon reaching my truck was fully engaged with the pleasant thought of what to make for dinner. Imagine my surprise to see a roaring fire and a pot of coffee brewing in my camp and someone wearing a Bigfoot suit sitting casually on the lowered tailgate of my truck.  
I stopped stone cold and just stood there, unable to gulp.
The Bigfoot had his hairy chin resting on one knee in a thoughtful pose, and I swear in the right angle of light if you'd put a ball cap on him he'd look all the world like a Game Warden officer making a casual routine check before calling it a day.  
"You should've taken that left fork at the ridge crossing up there," he said with gruffy discernment. "Woulda saved you at least two hours."
Trying to be cool and casual, I answered, "Well shoots, why didn't you say something back there then?"
"Couldn't.  I was sitting here at the time."
That's when I knew I was done for. This was a real Bigfoot. Those guys have legendary hearing, plus they have all kinds of informants, and that trail fork was a good 9 miles back. I forgot all about supper plans, I was gonna die tonight, hungry.
Suddenly a log snapped in the fire, and as if on cue the coffee started percolating. Bigfoot bounded off the tailgate, spun around and slammed it shut and then brushed abruptly past me towards the fire with his head down in an on-a-mission look.
My shoulders and neck muscles tensed up and instinctively I felt for my cell phone, then realized it was no good back in these parts. Who was I gonna call anyway, "Neighborhood Bigfoot Watch?"   

I gathered my wits and took a long deep breath. I was tired. I was hungry. I was hallucinating. I did not just see a Bigfoot slam my tailgate shut. There is no fire either. But why do I smell coffee? Coffee doesn't lie, ever.
In a robotic graceful kind of way, I managed to get my body turned to see what the real scene was behind me. I rubbed my eyes and blinked and, yep, I saw a fire, and yep, sure enough there was a Bigfoot pouring a hot cup of coffee. The massive, hairy creature then carefully set the pot on a rock and walked over and handed the cup to me with all the grace of a bistro waiter. 
Gee, my first ever Bigfoot Brew! What a way to die, I thought.
This was one weird evening: Me, fire, coffee, and Bigfoot.
I looked down into the steaming cup and noticed a bit of bark or moss or something had fallen from his chin whiskers into the cup and was floating around, but I sure didn't say nothing. It's important to keep one's table manners, even when facing a sure death.
"T-t-thanks," I stammered. He grunted and went over and squatted down on a log next to the fire. 
"Wup, so...what brings you out here in these parts, B-B-Bigfoot?" I somehow managed to gaggle while raising the cup in a shaky salute. I swished the cup around a bit, hoping to get that floating tidbit to fly out.
He stared into the fire. "I got something to share. Been a long time since I talked to a human, so I gotta find the words. Have a seat."
I stood there, swishing that coffee cup around, still trying to get that little particle out of my coffee. "Have a seat!" he then bellowed with impatience and gestured nowhere in particular.
I jumped and spilled some of the coffee, burning my hand in the process. The good thing was that mysterious grub particle flew out.  At least I would die drinking a clean cup of coffee. Hey, things were looking up already. 
With that comforting thought I dragged out a camp chair and set it up near him and s-s-slowly eased down into it. I sipped a little brew and looked into the fire, trying really hard not to look at those big hairy feet. I'm no shoe expert, but they was easily a size 33 in my rough guesstimation.
Then he cleared his throat and told me a most remarkable tale. Here is his complete transcript with my notes included for clarity:
[Begin transcript]
My clan lives among the many high peaks region [ed note: Adirondack Mountains]. Although there are a fair number of us, we have always avoided the two legs [humans] as they are quite unpredictable and dangerous. [Quick glance toward me].  
[I sat harmlessly and said nothing, absorbed by the comfort of my last cup of coffee. Satisfied that I was not, at the moment, unpredictable or dangerous, the Bigfoot continued on.]
One morning I was out gathering berries with others when we heard a strange wimpering. I motioned to the others to stay put and went over the ridge and down into the next valley and immediately found the source of the cry. A young Two Leg was alone, running about in no direction and very frightened.  
I circled the area and there were no other Two Legs about, however I did find a broken water shell [boat] and small Two Leg tracks from the boat, so that is how he got there. 
So I go back and again watched the little human for a long while. Suddenly I notice that a silent Long Tail [mountain lion] was also watching this human from a high ledge. The human would be a good dinner for the Long Tail, so that would end the noise and be fine for me. Satisfied, I left and returned to my group and told them, and we all went about our evening.
The next morning, however, I was awakened by a bad noise, so awful that I knew it could only be a human. I followed the sounds and saw a new thing that amazed me.  
The human was talking to the Long Tail.  Each time the Long Tail crept in closer for his food kill, the human would talk more and louder, and the Long Tail would then move back, sit down and yawn.  
I watched this awhile and then stood to stretch and accidently knocked a large rock that rolled down the hill. Busted - both the human and the Long Tail saw me!  
The Long Tail quickly ran away, as they do not like us. But the human ran right up to me and began to talk. I had no choice but to politely sit and listen. He talked. And he talked, then he talked some more.
Finally, I decided I must go home. I motioned for the little human to follow, and the sounds he made had a pattern to them that I found interesting, so I thought it would be good for the clan to study him awhile.
Well, the human stayed with us a long while. Many of us began to learn the talk from him. At first it was fun, something new. We learned words, then phrases, then endless sentences.  
But soon it became a problem, actually many problems.  
The human would never stop talking. Even when eating, he talked. That became bothersome.
Also, the human would often say one thing but then do another. He would explain the great benefit of eating dirt, so well told that many tried it and for awhile believed it. Then they noticed the human was eating their share of juicy berries, while they were enjoying the new benefit of eating dirt.    
And he was very good at talking to make things change for him. I would tell him it was his turn to bring water but he would get someone else to do it, by telling him somehow the great reward for doing so. Pulling water had never been fun or rewarding before, but his words said the opposite was really true.
But the worse thing was, the clan stopped doing things. Less and less they gathered food or trekked over to visit other Bigfoot clans. Instead, they sat around and talked.  
Talk, talk, talk.  
One day, I had enough. I forbade any more talking. Everyone stopped but the human, of course. When none of us Bigfoot engaged in the talk, the human began to talk to the camp fire, the trees, the rocks, the animals. At times he even talked to the air.
Soon the leaves began to wither. The rocks crumbled. Animals disappeared. Even the fire would not stay lit or put out much heat.  And the air, I think it became thin.
So finally I picked up the human and carried him down the river toward the human dead tree piles [houses]. Of course he talked the whole way, but I did not hear him because I had packed mud in my ears. I took him down to where the Green Hats [forest rangers] lived and set him on the porch and knocked on the door and left quickly.  
When I got to the forest edge I looked back one more time and the little human was talking to a barking Stick Bringer [dog]. For a moment, he curiously cocked his head, then he lay his head on the ground and covered his eyes with his paws.
After that, we all returned to our ways, and it was such a relief. The animals returned, the trees bloomed, and the air was full and the fire was hot. We have learned our lesson, that the Two Legs are not just dangerous, they are also noisy.  
Years later, I was snooping around a Green Hat's home one evening and heard a familiar old noise from inside. I slipped up to the window and peered in and, to my great chagrin, I saw the same human, much older now.  
Actually the human was in a box. He was surrounded by other humans and they were all smiling and clapping at his words and waving little flags on sticks. Someone in the box called him Congress Man.
I quickly ducked away from the window and crawled off, fearing Congress Man would see me and come out of the box and follow me back to my clan and make things all bad for us again.
I am the only Bigfoot that can remember the human way to talk. It is such a burden to have to talk, and thank you for listening so I can get rid of the words. I feel better now. Just don't tell Congress Man you saw me here. I will meet you again later and get rid of more words.  
[End transcript]
With that, Bigfoot stood and took my empty cup, walked over to the warm pot and refilled it and brought it back to me.  
Then, without a word he slipped out into the darkness, leaving me with a steaming cup of Bigfoot Brew.  
I took a sip of my Bigfoot Brew, leaned back, and listened to the wild sounds of the night, happy that the air was no longer filled with human words.