A young Louisiana squirrel hunter encounters a 'Booa' (Bigfoot) near Toledo Bend near the Sabine River. The details of his incident still haunt him over 40 years later.
"I am 55 years old and lived in Louisiana all my life, from north to south Louisiana. My surprise happened to me up north Louisiana close to the mouth of Toledo Bend on the Sabine River. I was 12 years old at the time. We hunted and fished - not a whole lot to do in a small town.
Squirrel season came around the first Saturday in October of 1981. Our neighbor that lived half a mile away had cows and horses and things like that. He never put livestock in the south pasture. I caught a conversation with him and other men. I was 12 to 13 years old and did a lot of grass-cutting, bush hogging. I heard him call something a ‘Booa.’ Come to find out ‘Booa’ is the name of a hairy man. He always told me to stay out of the bottom of the south pasture.
Hard-headed as I am, I walked down an old logging road give or take a quarter of a mile or so to a dry creek bed, went from left to right. I wanted to go back towards the right to go back through the same trees at the bottom where I knew squirrels would be feeding. I got to the dry creek bed, took a right, and walked down with my flashlight about 20 or 30 yards. They had an old log laid across on the side of the creek bed and I put my 20 gauge shotgun pump in front of me, leaning against a tree. It was still dark. I can barely see the lights started coming through the canopy.
I started feeling like I was being watched. Dread, etc. The whole nine yards. I wanted to get out of there but it was still dark and I didn't want to try to run too quick, so I just sat and waited. The sun took a long time to come through the canopy. I started hearing a few things, a crackle here, a crackle behind me, but I had enough light to look down the creek back and that's when I saw it. It was mimicking me, standing upside of a tree with my leg propped up behind me looking like the Marlboro Man just standing there. I started to reach for my shotgun but all I had was six-shot hot brass. I wasn't trying to shoot him but if I had firepower in my hands, I would feel comfortable.
I took my eyes off him for a complete quick second to look down to grab the barrel of my shotgun to pull it and pick it up towards my chest and as I was doing that I turned and looked and whatever it was was gone! This is a long story so bear with me.
I'm 55 years old and I really never told anybody about this. I've kept this deep inside even thinking about it gives me chills and goosebumps. Squirrel hunting in Louisiana, you can only kill eight squirrels per day, so my daddy would give me nine shells just in case I missed. Well, I thought I had a good chance of getting up and on top of the logging road. I started heading back towards the blacktop. I shot two rounds and the movement stopped. I added two more shells and shot one more time. That made three shots altogether. After those three shots, the movement started happening again as if they knew. I only had three bullets. That's when I figured out they could count to three and start moving and approaching me again.
It did this the whole way walking briskly on that logging road and side side, seeing glimpses of dark hair, probably about 5 to 6 feet tall 50 or 60 yards in the woods. It was just flashes here and there. When I finally got to the road, I was soaking wet and scared and had one shell left in my gun. Needless to say, I did not hunt down that logging road ever again. This has been on my brain and my conscience for at least 42 to 43 years. I never told the complete story but that was it. I've had nightmares off and on for a long time."
Transcribed Source: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rUo91dq-Mg4&t=3273s
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