OFFRE D'UNE DURÉE LIMITÉE | Obtenez 3 mois à 0.99 $ par mois

14.95 $/mois par la suite. Des conditions s'appliquent.
Page de couverture de BWBS Ep:173 The Wild Ones

BWBS Ep:173 The Wild Ones

BWBS Ep:173 The Wild Ones

Écouter gratuitement

Voir les détails du balado

À propos de cet audio

 Every once in a while, a story comes across my desk that stops me cold. Not because it’s sensational, but because it’s precise, deeply personal, and impossible to dismiss. The account you’re about to hear is one of those. It arrived as a letter from a man I’m calling Tom, a seventeen-year park ranger in the Great Smoky Mountains who has spent his life dealing in facts, emergencies, and hard reality—not Bigfoot stories.

Tom was called to a remote homestead owned by an eighty-two-year-old woman named Mabel. Something had been raiding her property, tearing apart her barn, stealing dog food and chickens, and—most unsettling of all—unlatching doors and closing them behind itself. Bears don’t do that. What Tom found near the coop were sixteen-inch footprints with five toes, unmistakably primate, and impossible by any known standard.What followed changed everything he thought he knew about those mountains. Mabel told him she had lived alongside these creatures her entire life. Her mother, her grandmother, and even her great-grandmother had known about them since settling that hollow in the 1840s. There had always been rules, boundaries, and even communication.

But a new presence had arrived—larger, gray-furred, aggressive—and for the first time in eighty years, Mabel was afraid. Tom chose to stay. Over the next two weeks, he documented wood knocks, vocalizations unlike any known animal, tree breaks forming deliberate perimeters, rocks thrown with intent, and images from trail cameras that still haunt him. With help from a trusted wildlife officer, he gathered casts, recordings, and photographs that defy easy explanation. And on the eleventh night, he had an encounter that permanently altered his understanding of reality. This story doesn’t end with proof or confrontation. It ends with something far rarer: understanding.


Tom wrestled with whether to share this, knowing the cost of speaking out. But he thought of Mabel, of his friend who’d carried his own encounter in silence, and of everyone who’s seen something in these woods and been told they imagined it. I believe him.

What you’re about to hear is exactly as Tom wrote it, in his own words. It’s long. It’s detailed. And it’s one of the most moving accounts I’ve ever received.

So settle in. From an eighty-acre homestead at the edge of the Smoky Mountains, this is the letter from Ranger Tom.
Pas encore de commentaire