Thank you, Ray.

Time permitting, I might be persuaded to write out that report in full...

RayG

nudge, nudge

Green comments: One of the most interesting accounts I know of involves two men who went on a hunting trip south of Mount Ashland in October, 1943. Mount Ashland is in Oregon, but I think the exact location was a little way south of the border in California. Neither of them, said word about what had happened at the time, even to each other. It was just too unbelievable. It wasn't until almost 20 years later, after seeing published reports about the same sort of animal that he had seen, that the late O.R. (Red) Edwards, who by then lived in Fresno, California, wrote to his former hunting partner, Bill Cole, in Nebraska to see what he remembered about it. After an exchange of letters, Mr. Edwards wrote out for his friend the full story of what had happened as he could recall it. Basil Hritsco, an associate of Ivan Sanderson's, later made a tape recording of him reading the written account. Here are some excerpts from it:

"It was just about sun-up now, just slightly hazy but the sun was burning it away fast and visibility was practically unlimited. The valley opened out...with a flat floor about a mile long and at least a hundred yards wide ...This flat valley floor was covered with slick-leaf brush about shoulder to head high for the most part ...The right hand slope was clear of any big trees, but there were numerous patches of brush ...We sized up the terrain and I said, "Shall we try the brush patches up there?" and you said, "As good as any," so we angled up the hill to our right for 200 yards or so and came to the lower end of this particular brush patch. It was a good six feet tall, I couldn't quite see over it, oval-shaped, maybe 25 feet at the widest and 36 feet long up and down the slope.

  You were to my left, so with just a nod by each of us you went left and I went right around the brush. We were both moving slowly and quietly. I was sweeping the area ahead with my eyes. On one sweep I caught a glimpse of what seemed like an apelike head just above the brush at the upper end of this patch. By the time I got my eyes back to focus on the spot it was gone. Then I hear the "pad pad pad" of running feet, heard the "whump" and a grunt as your bodies came together.

  Dashing back to the end of the brush I saw a large manlike creature covered with brown hair, about seven feet tall. It was carrying in its arms what looked like a man. I could only see legs and shoes, straight down the hill on the run. I was about 30 feet away and the opening in the brush was only 10 to 15 feet wide. At the speed he was going it did not leave me much time to make observation.

  I, of course, did not believe what I had seen, so I closed my eyes and shook my head to sort of clear things up, and looked down the hill again in time to see the back of the shoulders and the head of the manlike thing covered with brown hair disappearing into the brush some 70 or 80 yards below.

  Bill, I was stunned. Basically I was okay. I checked myself over but I certainly did not believe what I had just seen. I went to the other end of the thicket where I thought I had seen something at first, found fresh scraps of leaves on the ground as if something had been pulling them off and eating them. The dry ground under the short grass was dusty as if it had been trampled, but I could make out no tracks that I could recognize. Perhaps if I had known what I was looking for I could have.

  I walked on around the brush to where you should have been. I saw those dusty scuff marks and nothing more, stood there real still for quite a while, then turned and went up near the top of the ridge, found a little outcropping of rock and sat down on it. I was in plain sight from below and had a good view of the area where you had just disappeared. I lit a cigarette and watched and listened.

  There is no need to say that I knew that something was wrong. Plenty was wrong. My hunting partner had just disappeared and there was no logical explanation. What I had just seen I did not believe. I waited and watched, lit another cigarette, then something else began to bother me. It was too quiet.

  I sat there and smoked for over half an hour. Now, Bill, it seems to me that this thing either packed you for quite a ways or you were out for quite a while. I guess I should have started looking for you. I don't know why, but I didn't. Maybe I was afraid of the creature and maybe I was afraid I'd find you dead. Anyway I climbed up to the ridge. I followed it up to the head of the valley ..."

Green notes: He then spent the best part of the day working his way around the ridge above the valley and returning on the opposite side towards the place where they had entered it. There was little brush on that side and just a few scattered trees. He moved along very slowly and quietly, well up the slope, and then angled down towards the mouth of the valley:

  "Approaching at this angle, I reached the edge of the  brush-covered valley floor with about 200 yards more to go to the end. While the brush in the center of the valley seemed quite dense, the stream of water ran through there of course, there were clumps along the edge with room to walk between them. I proceeded to do this as it was much easier than following the steep slope. Suddenly I realized that I was following a beaten path. The grass here was taller, about eight inches and dense, and had been pressed down to form a soft, noiseless path winding through the clumps of brush. The grass was not cut with hooves, so it was not a deer, sheep, cow or horse path. Something with a big soft foot, I thought, probably a bear.

  I had nearly reached the end of the valley and the last clump of brush was about 30 feet away when from it came a very human "Shhht!" At the sound I froze for about a minute but nothing happened. I proceeded another few steps to within about 20 feet of the brush, and peering hard could make out a dark object or objects in the center of the small clump. The outline was so much like two men in dark clothing sitting close together that I spoke out with something like:

  "Okay, this has gone far enough, I have a loaded rifle trained on you and I don't want to hurt anyone."

  Not a sound, not a movement. Could be a black, burnt stump, but I had never seen anything quite like it. I moved slowly within ten feet and bent over to see into the brush patch. When I did this the right half of the stump moved with great speed toward the pine tree on the slope to my right and about 15 feet away. I thought I caught the outline of a great, long-legged man through the brush, but by the time I had jumped back to see around the brush it had disappeared behind the tree.

  I stood still for quite a while hoping that old bear would come out from behind the tree so I could get a shot. All was quiet. Just a puff of dust from behind the tree drifting slowly in the quiet air. I then moved to the right around the brush four or five steps, brought me almost directly between the clump of brush and the tree that something had disappeared behind. I bent down to peer into the brush from this angle and the other part of the stump went out the far side of the brush clump and running bent over, back into the brush patch approximately the way I had come. I could not see the head or feet, but I could see the back and shoulders, which were flat and broad like a man's, and the rocking motion was exactly that of a man running bent over at the waist.

  I would like to interject here that this second half of the stump had been definitely shorter than the one that went out first, and as I saw it go out the back side of the brush it seemed to be clasping something tightly to its chest with both arms. A young one, perhaps. I'll never know. I did get a good look at the back. Going into the broush bent over, the bending had opened up cracks in the fur so that I could see through the tips of the outside of rather light brown. The fur or hair underneath was quite dark like chocolate.

  Since I was hunting I had instinctively brought up my rifle to my shoulders as I watched, but since I was not sure just what it was I did not draw a bead. Then came the damndest whistling scream that I had ever heard, from right behind me. My hackles went up and I whirled to face the tree. Just in time to see a flash of something brown disappear behind the tree about six feet from the ground. More dust drifted from behind the tree.

  I was less than 12 feet from this tree, and it wasn't any squirrel cutting off pine cones. I stood still covering the tree with my rifle. A full minute or more passed. Nothing happened. Then I moved a few feet to the south, past the tree, putting myself between those two things and the only exit I knew of, but still within 15 feet of the tree. Still covering the tree I stood real still for several minutes, probably four or five, straining my senses.

  Then I noticed a knot on the side of the tree about six feet from the ground and to my right as I looked there seemed to be an eye in the middle of this knot. I had been staring so hard and long that my eyes were beginning to water, so I shut my eyes real tight for a minutes to clear out the tears, and when I looked again the knot was gone.

  By this time I had had enough. I started walking slowly down the path or trail towards the car, looking back at every step. As I looked back at a distance of 60 or 70 feet I saw the head, part of the back ond one outstretched arm disappear behind the brush, as if it had made a flying leap from behind the tree to the cover of the brush. I also heard plainly the "flop flop" of two feet landing on uneven ground at the end of the leap.

  That was all, Bill. A very few minutes later I was back in your car, where you were waiting. You asked if I had seen anything unusual and I said, "Noooo, did you?" You said, "Oh no."

  Then you asked me if I'd heard a scream, and on my negative answer you said that you thought you had, but were not sure."

Green notes: Bill Cole's recollection of the incident was a bit different. He didn't think that the animal had carried him after it ran into him and he thought he had been conscious the whole time.

  "Funny, neither of us had the guts to say what happened to us," he said in a letter to Edwards.

RB, the story about the event in Challis is amazing. I've never paid much attention, are you still in that area?

Nope, I live near Sacramento, CA right now...

Thanks for the comments... I consider myself very lucky...

Give him about 2 beers and he's out like a light!!

BTW, great typing job there, Ray! Do you hire yourself out for term papers too?

Oh, Susan! Click me.

*gets totally bad visual of Fish standing barelegged with a trenchcoat *

Awesome Ray, thanks.

RB, Dude! I grew up in Lodi! Wisconsin feels like home
but there's a special place in my heart for San Joaquin county.
The beer is definitely on me