Bigfoot Throws A Caribou Head!
Fred from the Subarctic Alaska Sasquatch YouTube channel is back, and this time he brings two encounters rooted deep in the Copper River Valley and the gold country of Alaska's interior. The first comes from a man we'll call Travis, an Ahtna man with family ties down the Copper River Valley who saved for years to carve out a small homestead on a five-acre piece of native allotment land.
Three years ago, on the third morning of an early trip with his wife, the couple's coffee was interrupted by a grunt and then a growl that seemed to come from every direction. What Travis first took for a bear turned out to be something far stranger, peering over ten-foot alders from twenty-five yards out. His wife saw it clearly first, describing a caveman-like figure with dark grayish-black skin, black eyes, a broad flat nose with downward-facing nostrils, and a strange blondish-red coat of hair.
What followed was a two-day siege, with multiple creatures circling the cabin, jiggling the door handle, throwing rocks onto the roof, and fixating on Travis's wife, who reported hearing one of them telling her to come over in her own head. Rifle shots, a near-decision to burn the tree line, a sleepless night, and a tense armed extraction with friends the next morning all play out before they finally reach their ATVs and escape. Travis has returned since, learning from the previous owners that activity reliably picked up twice a year, every spring and fall.
The second story reaches back to the spring of 1946 and comes from an Ahtna elder we'll call Tyler, passed down across a lifetime from his father, Tyler Senior. Set in the gold country near what would later become the Taylor Highway at Mosquito Creek, in an area then known as Forty Mile, the account follows Tyler Senior and two cousins working a small claim. After days with no wildlife stirring, the harassment began with strange whoops, whistles, and pigeon-like cooing from the tree line, then escalated to rocks thrown with painful accuracy, a wrung-off caribou head and a stripped hindquarter lobbed into camp, and a black silhouette swaying at the edge of the firelight.
Heavily armed with old-school large-bore rifles, the men fired volley after volley at a creature that ran through their fire, scattered the embers, and seemed to vanish each time they shot. By the time multiple siren-like screams answered one another up and down the valley before dawn, the men packed up and abandoned the operation for good.
The lesson Tyler Senior carried and passed down was simple and consistent: you never engage the bushman, you leave, because if you don't, it doesn't stop.
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