Bigfoot Recordings Vol. 2

CD Script

Narrated by: Ron Morehead

Written by: Ron Morehead with Alan Berry

Excerpts from Part III

Narrator:

Biggie’s presence around camp was nearly continuous from July of 1971 through the fall of 1972, but mysteriously, in 1973 the activity fell off.

That summer Al stayed in the remote High Sierra camp for several weeks. Bill and I packed his food and electronic surveillance gear in to camp on our horses and mules. But nothing happened. Nothing—except blown trip-line camera traps and busted cameras … but no vocalization, and no footprints—nothing that would at least make the creatures’ presence known, and explain the busted cameras.

We had nicknamed the one with the deepest voice the “Old Man.” We thought it was him who had upset the teapot full of hot water on the stove. We know his voice from voice grams that show his frequency and resonant signature. He had to have been the bigfoot group leader.

Had the Old Man died that winter of ‘72? Had Al’s presence, with all his paraphernalia, offended them in ‘73? Or had the creatures simply lost interest?

Whatever had happened…on this September evening in 1974, several of them were back, and they were bold and boisterous. Bill and I were having fun, plain and simple, and it was exciting stuff—like they were about to show themselves at last, and who knows where things might go from there!

Warren and Louis were supposed to get to camp the next afternoon, sometime. It was usual for Bill and I to arrive in camp a day or two early to get the camp setup for deer seasons opening weekend. We were riding our horses in, with Bill wrangling the pack mules behind me. Where the trail leveled off at the top of the first switchback climb, I spotted a fresh impression that crossed the trail. I could tell it was one of the creatures’—we had seen footprints lots of times before, but usually only in, or close, to our camp. I was accustom to taking the lead to watch for fresh sign on the trail, mainly human or horse … and there wasn’t any.

We still had several tough miles left to get to camp before dark, so we stopped just long enough to photograph the footprint, and then I destroyed it. We would be leaving the main trail within the hour and it was usual to cut off at random spots, preferably in young growth manzanita, so as to not leave an obvious trail for others to see.

But seeing the fresh track was exciting! We couldn’t wait to get into camp. We finally got there just as the sun went down.

It’s not unusual to hear pounding sounds or the breaking of large limbs. Sometimes it was rhythmic. We’ve wondered if maybe this was their way of seeing what kind of a response they might get. …. It was nearly dark with the moon already up in the sky, and we were still unpacking when we heard the first pounding and whooping sounds. We hurried to get our tape recorders out of our saddlebags and started recording.

1974 Pounding and Whooping Sequence: (Corresponding CD Sound Sequence)

Narrator:

We had never been welcomed into camp like this! If they were around, they would always wait until we were inside the shelter before making much noise … except for maybe a few raps to get our attention.

But this was fun, exciting fun … believe me! This year, for some unknown reason their voices were different from those of 1971 and 1972. There was something in these sounds we could almost understand, like phrases almost and a suggestion of language. Bill and I wondered, could this be language, or were they just making sounds. From other vocalizing displays that we’ve heard, it seems they can mimic almost anything.

This evenings interactions went on for over an hour.

The summer Al was up there we installed a cushioned toilet seat at the john—yep, you heard me right, and it even had a flower print on the cushion. Well, this was about 40 yards downhill and away from our stove and shelter, set back in the trees.

From that area I saw a dark silhouette of one of the creatures as it moved, almost like it was gliding, through the trees—just a dark image in the bright early moonlight—it was extremely fast and very smooth. That was just after we heard the toilet seat—biggie was banging it, slapping it up and down, having fun with it I guess. We really had to wonder just what it was thinking.

Toilet Seat Banging Sequence: (Corresponding CD Sound Sequence)

Narrator:

At that moment I could have shined a flashlight on that spot and I’m sure I would have gotten a good look at the creature. But we had tried things like this before. It wasn’t just that we were too slow on the draw to spot them, but shining any light in their direction was a guaranteed showstopper. They wouldn’t scream at us or do anything like that—they would just shut up and leave … end of story for that night.

Narrator:

In the beginning some of the sounds were menacing, even ferocious-sounding—make no mistake. Yet there was never any violence toward us—absolutely none. On the contrary, they actually seemed to be enjoying things as much as we were, and occasionally they’d even leave us a stash of dry pinecones, perhaps they had observed us collecting them for our stove fires.

The next morning of this autumn day in 1974, Bill and I found two fresh alder branches on top of the shelter. At the spring, we found where the inch thick branches had been twisted from their stalks. They had been placed there on top our shelter with older dried alders from a June’s re-roofing project … perhaps they were observing us then too. We took this, as like the other times with the pinecones, as a gesture of friendship.

What I sensed when I was there was that they wanted to interact with us but had always been timid and very shy about being seen. Because of this, and for many reason really, we believe the Sierra group that we’d became acquainted with were highly intelligent, and that other reported in the Sierras today, in fact, may be of the same line and have similar vocal capability and interest in humans.

We don’t know how to reconnect with this particular group of bigfoot when it came to such an abrupt end. But that’s what happened: The Johnson’s got in to camp late the next afternoon, and that evening Biggie started whooping and carrying on again. But this time Louis suddenly jumped up from where he was sitting on a log by the stove, grabbed his rifle and his flashlight, and started off toward the creek. “I’ve had enough of this,” he said, “and I’m going to find out what these things are all about, once and for all!”

Well, that was it. The creatures fell silent. Without another sound from them, they were gone. I understood the frustration that Louis had … we all seemed to share in a common frustration of being outfoxed for so long by these elusive creatures.

On To Epilogue