Friday, January 15, 2010

Bigfoot Fancy 4 Kids

I am writing to tell you about a blog site about bigfoot just for kids!

Bigfoot Fancy 4 Kids

Our lady friend Linda Newton-Perry has been writing children's books for a few years now, and her interest in bigfoot has been the subject of many of her tomes.

It is Linda's desire to inspire a whole new generation of bigfoot believers!

The artwork on some of her children's books is beautiful!

Be sure to order copies of her books for your children or grandchildren! (Bob)

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Activity reported by Todd Partain

Recently I spoke to my younger brother and he related unusual circumstances at a secluded gas well near my home where he has worked.

Rocks and small pieces of debris have been thrown at a trailer on the site on multiple occasions.

There have been loud wood knocks from nearby forested areas.

My brother related he was awakened late at night by what sounded like two people speaking in "Gibberish", a fast paced language that can't be understood.

A co-worker stated that during his duty at the gas well, there was rock throwing and later something "slapped" the trailer hard. The co-worker, who did not believe in "BigFoot", later looked up from his laptop one night at the trailer to glimpse something at the window staring in.

These occurrences are classic behavior patterns of the target species.

I am attempting to verify these statements, i will try to get recorded interviews and attempt to secure permission to spend a night at the sight, which is only a few miles south of my home (some location details omitted) in North West Louisiana.

A Day Without Loren is like a Day Without Sunshine

Episode 6 Airdate December 24, 2009 from matthew mcdonald on Vimeo.

Story by James A. Snyder

I Just Found Bigfoot

By James A. Snyder | Published Wednesday, Jan. 13, 2010

On an overcast January day in 2002, I plunged into the backcountry of East County, carrying a half-full pack and weathered walking stick. Hiking into the serene green of silence and solitude was my escape, and lately it had become an obsession. It offered a mental, physical, even a spiritual reprieve from the fast-paced SoCal lifestyle. Like alcohol to an alcoholic — the more I hiked, the more I craved.

The worn dirt trail dropped steeply, and unstable footing made for an on-again, off-again controlled slide for both Richard, my long-time hiking buddy, and me. We had been on 200-plus hikes over the years, feeding off the challenges and discoveries each backcountry trek would bring. This trip appeared to be no different. As we descended into a magnificent green-and-brown, chaparral-filled valley, the pristine headwaters of the San Diego River beckoned, shimmering silver in the weak sunlight 1500 feet below us. Beyond the open valley, brooding on the horizon to the east, the proud Cuyamaca Mountains sat like squat kings, mute sentinels lording it over their kingdom below.

After 50 tense minutes of knee-pounding, ankle-twisting descent, we abandoned the rutted trail and slipped into the tangled chaparral. The low, brittle branches tore at our pants as we stomped up the river gorge. We followed a faint deer trail that only animals and brush-savvy humans could discern. The narrow trail zigzagged upward into the ravine. The pungent smell of sage filled our nostrils. For the next 20 minutes, the only sounds were heavy breathing and branches snapping, occasionally punctuated with an “Ow!” as another branch slapped my face. By the time we were ejected into a clearing, my T-shirt was soaked with perspiration, and goose bumps had exploded across my bare arms.

The rare brushless area was an open oasis of rock and moss, a needed break from the profuse vegetation of the surrounding sides of the gorge. Rock ruled here, arousing our prospecting curiosity: we were eager for a glint of elusive gold. I chugged an entire liter bottle of water. After doing the same, Rich headed one way and I the other. I was enticed by a dry streambed littered with jumbled boulders, granite worn smooth by millenniums of moving water and wind.

An unexpected shape caught my eye. “What the heck,” I murmured. “That looks like a huge footprint.” Closer, I ogled a five-toed imprint embedded into the rock. “Hey, Rich, I just found Bigfoot!” I shouted over my shoulder. Rich made his way toward me. I squatted down to examine the impression and noticed dermal folds under the biggest toe. The toes were flexed to the side in unison, the way mine would be if I stepped at the same angle as this foot once had. “Oh, yeah, I see it,” said Rich. “It’s probably a natural rock formation. Sure looks real, though.” There was an unspoken rule of hiking courtesy between us: You show interest in what I find, and I’ll do the same. It didn’t matter what it was — animal skull, pottery fragments, arrowhead, an oddly shaped rock, an old rusty can, etc. A buddy inspecting your find was a way of justifying the hike.

Rich rock-hopped up the streambed, searching again for his own finds, while I lingered. Clearing the print of dirt and debris, I studied it, unable to determine with certainty whether this huge gorilla-like footprint was authentic. It had so many apelike/manlike features — opposing side toe, heel indent, ball of the foot, the indent between the ball and the toes, toes with toenail points, dermal folds under the big toe, plus the scrunched toes all racked in unison to the side, corresponding to the load of a biped stepping at an approximate 45-degree angle. A coincidence? It couldn’t be. Or could it? I’d seen hundreds of imprints in rocks, but this was beyond bizarre.

I shook the cobweb of questions from my brain and followed the sounds of snapping branches made by Rich, already swallowed up by the green sage. We explored until the weak winter sun found its way into the western sky. We hiked out in the dark, as usual — flashlights are for emergencies or wimpy hikers, and we were proud of our night-hiking prowess — yet already, I was planning my return to the rock enigma.

Soon, curiosity about the footprint had eroded my ability to think of anything else. A general contractor, I got off work early one day and decided to put the issue to rest. I stuffed my backpack with a five-gallon bucket that contained a gallon jug of water, a third of a bag of 20-minute (hot mud) drywall compound, a jar of Vaseline, a paintbrush, a trowel, and some cardboard and tape. Then I made for the trailhead. The extra weight, along with my usual pack items, left me exhausted. When I arrived at the rock site, I collapsed and lay on the sun-warmed granite beside the footprint for a while. Then I got out a paintbrush and began to sweep the indents in the rock.

With the dirt removed, I splashed water into the print and cleaned it meticulously, wiping it dry with my T-shirt. I felt like an amateur anthropologist, smearing the warm, gooey Vaseline into every inch of the print’s surface, careful to leave only a thin uniform coat. I stroked the Vaseline with the brush to remove any excess lubricant.

The wet drywall compound smoothed to a cake batter–like consistency when stirred in the bucket with the trowel. I quickly built a low cardboard retaining wall and secured it to the granite with masking tape. The wall was needed to keep the drywall compound from flowing out of the footprint. Gingerly troweling in the hot mud, I questioned my judgment, vacillating between “This is nuts. What are you doing? What a waste of time. Are you mental?” and “No, I need to know. Do it! Follow through.”

The fast-setting drywall compound was hard in about half an hour. Yet because of its thickness, I gave it another half hour to be sure. I’d come too far and expended too much energy to blow the casting because of haste. With timid prying, using a 12-inch K-bar knife, I tried to lift up the cast — nothing. More pressure. Still nothing. For 40 minutes, the white casting couldn’t be budged. The sun was heading home when, with a final pry, whoosh. The cast separated from the stone in one unbroken piece.

“Now is the moment of truth,” I thought. I rotated the heavy imprint upward and gasped. A giant footprint had been captured in the cast, revealing details that were hard to see in the rock. A wave of euphoria swept over me. Seeing is believing. “I’m not nuts! This is a real footprint! Woo-hoo!” I screamed, venting excess adrenaline in joyous celebration. Then the tide of epiphany receded, leaving paranoia. “This is not my land. Did anyone see me? Or hear me?” I heard the sounds of a small plane overhead and looked up. “Can they see me?”

I quickly packed the still-warm print cast into the bucket, padding the treasure with a fleece shirt. As if to hide a crime scene, I stashed all evidence of the casting into the pack. I placed heavy rocks over the footprint, then topped them with dead brush. The sun was now sinking below the hilly horizon. Satisfied with the natural concealment, I hiked out. I was giddy with excitement, muttering, “I just found a Bigfoot” over and over, interspersed with whoops and laughter.

Once home I showed my wife Mary (the Princess) the cast. “Wow, that sure looks like a huge foot. Amazing!” she said. She has always been my biggest cheerleader. I hid the cast in the garage, checking on it periodically while contemplating the next move.

When the weekend came, I returned to the print in the rock and made another cast with real plaster of Paris. Then I took photos, including the front page of the North County Times newspaper in the frame, to verify the date. I measured the print’s length and width — 18 inches by 8 inches — and even took off my boot and stuck my foot into the indent. It dwarfed my size-13 foot. This beast had been huge.

After some coaxing about the benefits of a good, healthy hike — and with the additional guilt trip of “If I die, you need to know where it is” — Mary agreed to accompany me on my next trip. Being the better photographer, she took more photos. She then treated us to a swank picnic lunch, with turkey-on-wheat-bread sandwiches, pickles, crackers and cheese cut into perfect slices, juicy red grapes, and the “necessary” napkins. I don’t call her Princess for nothing.

After the initial rush of the discovery subsided, I pondered the next logical step. Should I contact scientists, the media, or keep it a secret? The media should be alerted, I figured. Who better to spread the word of Ramona’s Bigfoot? I compiled a list of the major San Diego TV news stations and newspapers, then sent a typed letter about the discovery to each. I waited for one week. Nothing. “They don’t get it,” I thought. Again I did a mass mailing, this time with copies of the Bigfoot photos. Now they got it.

The phone rang. “Hi. This is the news director from Channel 8 News. Can we send a reporter and a cameraman to the site?”

“When?” I asked.

“Would tomorrow be okay?”

“Sure, but don’t send anyone out of shape. This is a rough hike; they wouldn’t make it.”

The next day, reporter Don Teague and his cameraman, both in shape and chomping at the bit, showed up early. They couldn’t decide which camera to take — a large shoulder version or a small, high-tech Sony. After looking down at where we were headed, the cameraman chose the small one. We hiked to the print site, arriving at 9:00 a.m. For stealth and maximum impact, I didn’t tell them at first that we had reached the site, allowing them to think it was another needed rest stop. When their backs were turned, I removed the brush and stones from the imprint in the rock.

“Gentlemen, what do you think?” I said. I pointed at the now-exposed footprint.

Surprised, they put down their water bottles. “Oh my God,” Don Teague said. He placed his fingers in the footprint.

“That’s really huge!” said the cameraman. “Let’s get some video.” They swung into action.

Their excitement was palpable and, to me, a relief. I hadn’t known what to expect from seasoned news professionals. Don took off his hiking boot and inserted his foot into the imprint. “Man, this is huge!” We were like three adolescent boys, bouncing with exuberance over the discovery.

Don called via cell phone to his newsroom. Within 20 minutes, the News Eight chopper was hovering 30 feet overhead. A cameraman inside filmed from above.

That night on TV, sultry, smoky-eyed Kathleen Bates gave a teaser about what was to come at the start of the news report. “Did Ramona once have a Bigfoot? A Ramona man thinks so. Details at 6:00.” Super-serious Marty Levine and Kathleen Bates led the newscast with the story. It led the news for the next two days, as other local stations caught Bigfoot fever. Fox News picked up the story and ran it on a national program. Pandora’s media box had been opened, and out stomped Bigfoot.

A bubbly gaggle of excited teenagers from Ramona High School rang the doorbell one morning at 8:00. I invited them in. They begged me to take them to the Bigfoot site. “Our English teacher said we could do a report on anything we wanted, and we decided to do a story on your discovery,” their cute spokesgirl said.

“We need to see it,” an athletic-looking boy in a letterman’s jacket chimed in.

The thought of party-animal teenagers rockin’ out at the Bigfoot site steeled my will. “No, sorry,” I said. “I can’t do that yet.”

Disappointed, the girl pleaded, “Please, please.”

Not wanting to be a complete Scrooge, I brought out the plaster foot cast and the photos, spacing it all on the dining room table for their inspection and photo session. After a quick tape-recorded interview of who, what, when, how, but not where, they filed out the door, still high on the idea of a Ramona Bigfoot.

That same day, an overly friendly reporter from the Union-Tribune called for an interview. I gave one over the phone. Then he used the information and the photos I had previously sent to enhance his piece in the next Sunday paper, which smugly mocked people who believe in crypto-zoology, crop circles, and UFOs.

One evening, a brainy scientist called and lectured me in academic detail about how this could not be possible. He ended the conversation with “But I sure would like to see it. Can you take me there?”

“Not at this time,” I said, wondering why he wanted to see it if he was so sure it wasn’t anything.

An enthusiastic man from L.A. called and offered me $200 to see the footprint. “I’ll get back to you,” I said. I still wasn’t willing to reveal the discovery site, no matter the price.

But the next day an AP photographer called. He wanted me to take him to the footprint so he could do a professional photo shoot with high-tech camera equipment.

“What will you do with the photos?” I asked.

“I’ll sell them to media outlets around the world,” he said. He was trying to impress me.

“And what will I get?”

“I’ll give you a nice set of photos.” Clearly, he was hoping that a picture portfolio would seal the deal.

But I was disappointed in the lopsided offer. “I’ll get back to you,” I said.

This Bigfoot business was like an explosion over which I had no control. Being a Christian, I prayed for guidance. Then I took the plaster cast to the Museum of Creation and Earth History in Santee. This organization had an Intelligent Designer’s point of view on anthropology. Maybe they could redirect the blast.

One of the professors left a full classroom of students behind to look at the cast. “I can’t believe it,” he said. “Can I keep this and show it to some of my colleagues?”

“Sure,” I said, “but I’m pressed for time and only have one good cast. One day only, then I’ll be back.”

When I returned the next day, the analysis was “We can’t figure out what it’s from. Maybe a Gigantopithecus or some other prehistoric ape. Extremely interesting!”

I sent photos of the print to a Bigfoot website run by a local expert, Michael Esordi. He posted them on his site, and within days, the Bigfoot people started chiming in with opinions. Dr. Jeff Meldrum, an Idaho State University expert on Bigfoot prints, said, “It can’t be. I see a quartz vein in the rock.” However, the supposed “quartz vein” was a white mineral-water stain from a seasonal flow of water. So much for the “expert.”

Another scientist from UC San Diego called and proceeded to lecture me on why this could not be. “That anomaly is caused by foreign matter that got caught in molten rock,” he insisted.

“Could a giant ape foot be considered foreign matter?” I queried back.

The silent pause was seconds long as he thought it over. “Yes, it could,” he conceded.

Other experts who reviewed the footprint on the Bigfoot website said, “It’s a bear’s rear paw print. No doubt about it.” Or “Native American Indians carved the print in the rock. I’ve seen similar work elsewhere, but not this detailed.” Still others said with that side toe, it was a giant ape.

I took the plaster cast to Michael Esordi, the Sasquatch expert in Point Loma, who runs the Bigfoot website. He made a latex mold of the cast, so he could make and sell copies on his site. I was to receive profits, but he suddenly moved to Rhode Island, and I never saw a dime, yet he kept the Ramona Bigfoot cast in his merchandise offerings for a while.

I was feeling very used by the so-called experts, who seemed to twist the Bigfoot find to fit their own perspectives, especially that shoot-from-the-hip scientist who couldn’t tell a water stain from a quartz vein. Surely, there were others out there who knew more and could better determine what the find was. But how to find them? How could I get this enigma to them?

After researching, I contacted a Dr. Thomas Raab from Los Angeles. He said his company, Interpress Worldwide, could put the story in 250 major media outlets around the world, with me retaining the rights to the story, photos, and interviews. “There would be royalties,” he assured me. Buoyed by the phone conversation, we set up a meeting at a Starbucks in Studio City.

“Now I’m getting somewhere,” I thought as I sat at an outdoor table, basking in the midday sun. The beautiful people were out in force. Every young, pretty woman who minced by on four-inch platforms was a potential starlet, and every well-dressed man with muscled physique was an onscreen action hero. This place oozed wealth, power, and dream-makers. I stuck out like the Tin Man in the city of Oz. No Bruno Magli shoes or the ubiquitous Rolex. A Bigfoot plaster cast was in a cardboard box on the sidewalk beside me, a manila folder of photos on the table. I waited without the mandatory coffee cup in hand, since I’d never acquired a taste for that dark drink.

Dr. Raab spotted me immediately. He was a handsome man, much younger than I expected, with black hair and an easygoing smile. After greeting me, he got himself a cup of coffee. I proceeded to show him the cast and photos. “Very impressive!” he said. “Now, where did you find this?” Others seated around us were ogling the plaster cast and eavesdropping on our conversation.

“Southern California,” I said, being vague on purpose, acutely aware of the others listening.

He got my drift. “I understand your reluctance to divulge the exact location, and I appreciate that you haven’t told others. Because, without exclusive control over this find, my company wouldn’t be interested.” After 15 minutes of Bigfoot banter he cut to the chase. He took a typed contract out of a folder and handed it to me. “Look this over. If it’s to your liking, we’ll promote this find worldwide, providing that it is genuine.”

“It’s real,” I assured him. “This is not a hoax.”

We shook hands, and he melted into the opulent urban backdrop from which he’d appeared. I drove home on a high.

The contract was to the point. It said that I could not promote or divulge anything more about the property (the footprint) for a period of one year. This stipulation was to give Interpress Worldwide the time needed to take the plaster cast, photos, and a rock sample that Dr. Raab had requested from the footprint area to scientists in Europe and South America for investigation and carbon dating.

After two days of reviewing the contract and discussing it with Mary, I decided to sign it, trusting Dr. Raab, and cautiously believing that this was a legitimate organization. Their involvement seemed like an opportunity to take Ramona’s Bigfoot to the next level of analysis. Of course, the chance for some financial benefit was like a bright red cherry on top of an ice cream sundae — very appealing. So I boxed up the contract, cast, photos, and a small rock sample and sent it all off.

As the months went by and he traveled to European museums, Dr. Raab would send periodic email updates that the investigation was proceeding. Finally, I received his emailed response:

Dear James Snyder:

First let me apologize for the long time it took to get back to you. But I guess all the efforts, waiting, and patience were not in vain.

Your box, including rock sample and cast, traveled some three (3) continents.

I was able to present the exposé to several international (and, more importantly, independent from each other) experts in geology and paleontology, such as

(1) Dr. Heinz A. Kollmann, Chairman of the Department of Geology and Paleontology of the Natural History Museum in Vienna Austria and his team.

They are very knowledgeable, due to the vast experience of explorations and expeditions conducted by them worldwide. Their expertise is based on hundreds of years of data collected by the royal expeditions of the former Austrian empire.

(2) Angel Duran Herrera, Archeologist.

(3) Daniel Fracinetti, Head of the Paleontology Lab of the Natural History Museum of the University of Chile.

Their expertise is based on many ancient archeological, geological, and paleontological findings and excavations along the greater stretch of South America, including Continent-specific knowledge of flora, fauna, and culture of the Americas.

(4) Eduardo Valenzuela, Independent Paleontologist with great reputation and expertise in Chile.

All experts seem to independently concur on the composition and creation of the rock sample. Some discrepancy of its origin may still need some more investigation on my behalf.

However, given the fact that the “footprint” is imbedded in the same rock from which the sample was taken, experts seem to exclude organic involvement.

Some of the experts agreed to provide us with a written statement and explanation.

Given all the facts provided by you and known to me, at this point it seems that what appears to be a big “footprint” may merely be a game of nature.

However, there are still some meetings and investigation pending. But suspicions seem to harden that we may not be on to a possible organic print of fossil.

I will also try to call you for a personal update later today to discuss further action.

Thank you again for your patience, but I think we did the right thing.

With best regards,

Dr. Thomas Raab


The report was a disappointment. For one whole year I had put the 800-pound gorilla in the closet, hoping a scientist, or someone else who might hear about it, would finally give this creature a nod of authenticity. I was very discouraged. Their scientific training seemed to have limited their vision, only seeing through a single lens. I was still not convinced it was just a fluke of nature.

Occasionally, I still show the plaster cast to people, and I’ll check on the hidden print if out hiking in the area. I sometimes imagine what the creature that left its mark on that Ramona hill might have looked like.

One day, when friends were over, I showed their five-year-old girl the plaster cast. “What do you think this is?” I asked.

She looked at it for a few seconds before replying with conviction, “That’s a big foot!” Out of the mouths of babes.

One thing is certain: The next time I let the Ramona Bigfoot loose, I won’t look to science to validate the find. Because seeing is believing.

San Diego Reader

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Not a Sasquatch

In British Columbia, some folks have video taped what they believe to be the Cameron Lake Monster! A relative to the Loch Ness Monster perhaps?

Cameron Lake Monster caught on video

Cryptozoologist John Kirk is on the case:

What lies beneath the surface of Cameron Lake on Vancouver Island? John Kirk has been eager to find out for a few years.

This Saturday, Sept. 19 he’ll have his chance when he searches the lake about 20 kilometers east of Port Alberni in search of an elusive lake creature people have reported seeing for years.

“Our organization has received reports coming from Cameron Lake since 2004,” said Kirk, co-founder of the B.C. Scientific Cryptozoology Club (BCSCC) and author of In the Domain of the Lake Monsters. “Witnesses have been describing what looks like a dark creature in the lake.”

Kirk and his crew of researchers are traveling to Cameron Lake to look for scientific evidence of the creature. The team will spend the day traversing the lake in a boat, attempting to lure it to the surface and get a visual sighting.

They have been planning to explore the lake since a 2007 sighting by Bridget Horvath, who noticed a strange wake in the water and three objects or creatures going in a circle.

“British Columbia is number one in the world for lake monster sightings,” Kirk said. “There are 39 lakes in B.C. where some type of creature has been seen.”

In 2004, a woman and her father reported to Kirk’s organization that they had seen a very large, long black creature in Cameron Lake. The creature swam along the lake near Highway 4 and the two were able to see it from their car until the highway veered away from the lake.

The BCSCC was founded in 1989. Elusive creatures, such as lake monsters and Sasquatches, are known as cryptids and their study is called cryptozoology, from the Greek cryptos for hidden and zoology, the study of animals.

Kirk spent time on Okanagan Lake this summer in search of Ogopogo, one of many expeditions done by his organization. Kirk is also chairman of the Crypto Safari Organization which sends investigators around the world, and has traveled to Africa as part of research teams in search of living dinosaurs.

Besides numerous sightings of the Cameron Lake monster, Vancouver Island has been the location of Sasquatch sightings, and a film and History Channel program based on the elusive animal, as well as home to specialists in the field.

Alberni Valley News

Tuesday, January 12, 2010


I just coined it! Unidentified Humanoid Object! :)

Monday, January 11, 2010

Steve Kulls on Sasquatch Watch Radio

January 11, 2010

The show began with lots of talk about the frigid temps across the U.S. and Steve was introduced.

Billy requested that no one bring up the Georgia Hoax incident.

Steve spoke briefly about his involvement with handicapped children, and expressed how much he has learned from them, patience and acceptance.

Steve appears to be a very down to earth guy and not arrogant by any means.

The questions from the chatroom were all over the board, from animal attacks, to recent sightings and I asked if he charged people to go on outings with him. His answer was a big, fat NO!

You can hear the entire interview at: Sasquatch Watch Radio

Dr. Jeff Meldrum on National Geographic

Sunday, January 10, 2010

The Winsted Wildman

By CATHERINE GUARNIERI of the Connecticut Register

It seems as though nearly every area of the world has their legend of some wild man-beast who likes to terrorize the locals. There is Bigfoot of the Pacific Northwest, the abominable snowman of parts north, the Yeti of the Himalayas.

For some reason these creatures seem to prefer the cooler climates… perhaps because they are so hairy? I can’t imagine what a sweaty Yeti must smell like. It can’t be good.

Imagine if one of those creatures did prefer a little warmer weather though, and decided Connecticut was a good spot. Not too cold, not too hot, and you can go to the beach too, and scare small children. One of these man-beasts just might have decided that he liked the area and settled in Winsted.

The Winsted Wild Man made his first documented appearance in August of 1895, when the Winsted Herald reported that then Selectman Riley Smith, while traveling to Colebrook, stopped along the road to pick blueberries, accompanied by his bulldog. The dog became frightened of something, and ran to Smith, whining and cowering.

A bit later, Smith related, an extra-large buck-nekkid man, covered with thick black hair jumped out of the bushes, yelling like crazy, and ran for the woods. Riley was understandably a tad disturbed by the interruption to his bucolic little trip. Apparently he never lived it down either.

The next documented appearance of the Wild Man didn’t occur until the 1970s, when two young men, Wayne Hall and David Chapman heard some very strange noises outside one morning in July 1972. Hall described it as a mix of frog and cat snarls and snorts.

The two men looked out the window in the direction of Crystal Lake, and in the dim light saw a large, furry, eight-foot tall “man” lope out of the woods, cross the road and head toward a barn. They watched the creature wander around the barn for a while, and then it crossed the road again, to disappear back in the woods. When asked if it might have been a bear, Chapman and Hall vehemently denied that possibility. They described it as big, hairy, walking upright and every once in a while it would scratch its head.

The creature was spotted again, two years later at Rugg Brook Reservoir, when some amorous couples had their soiree rudely interrupted by the large furry beast. The Wild Man allegedly rushed out of the forest and headed toward the car. Perhaps the foursome had been a little loud and disturbed his sleep. He appeared to be mighty angry.

This time the police were called in to investigate. When patrolman George Corso and one of the young men went back to the area to investigate no trace was found of the Wild Man.

So what exactly is the Wild Man of Winsted?

Is it some hairy mutant that survives on the fringe of society?

Is it an escaped gorilla?

A New England branch of the Bigfoot family?

Some guy in a gorilla suit?

Nobody knows for sure.

But if you’re one of the people that has seen the Winsted Wild Man, tell us your story.We may update this item at a later date with all the details.