Yep, back in 1964, my Granny’s house near Niagara, Oregon was smashed by a Bigfoot, at least that is the story she told us all.
I know that there are frequent sightings out this way of Bigfoot, especially near or around the Detroit Lake area. Especially along the river here.
Back in the 50’s and 60’s, my grandmother lived near Niagara in a little tin can, a trailer if you will, near the river, well, that is until she was forced out for a bit because of the new neighbors. Here is her story told to me, her grandson…
Niagara Oregon Bigfoot are real.
I was young, but I remember her, my grandmother, and I even remember the day my dad, mom, and I went out to collect her from her neighbors home one summer night back in 1964.
She was frantic and held me close in the back seat as we traveled back up the highway to our home in West Salem.
I have to say, I still have a hard time believing it all today, and am even a little skeptical about the whole Bigfoot thing, but I love your channel here and felt like sharing. Here is what she said happened…
Summer before love.
The hippies were yet to make their mark on the world, but Elvis and the Beatles had already. As a matter of fact, I was a fan of them, even being a younger grandmother at the age of 50.
I had just celebrated my 50th with my son, my daughter-in-law who was pregnant at the time, and my little 7-year-old grandson Baker.
It was fun, and they all enjoyed a day of fishing on the river next to the property I owned and lived on out near Niagara, Oregon, just a hop, skip, and a jump from Detroit lake, on the Santiam river.
Well, it was fun until my new neighbors moved in and decided to get me to move, well, at least vacate for a bit.
It started out rather harmless actually, a few whistles, whoops, and occasionally I would get a visit in the middle of the night or early evening.
But, harmless is not what it all turned out to be.
Personally, I believe these particular animals wanted to settle in the area. There was great fishing, the dear were plentiful around the area, and, of course, berries and other wild plants and wildlife were abundant to say the least.
But, it was my property, and I was going nowhere, period.
It started with some whistlin’.
It was not but a week or so since my birthday that year that the events started. And, it started with some whistling from the forest, and in the vicinity of a ravine that split two mountains back behind the property I owned at the time.
I was out one evening just watering the plants in the cool of the evening. The summers here are just as hot as anywhere else other than a desert, of course.
I was starting on the tomatoes plants when I heard the cleanest, clearest whistle I’d ever heard, even to this day.
At first I was caught by surprise of course, but, just like me, I yelled out a “thank you!”
I had a gun nearby, and I have never been afraid of anything, well, not until a couple months later, and only that once to tell you the truth.
But, I was not afraid of the whistler at first, I figured it was a neighbor, or even a hiker passing through just out of site, but who could see me.
I waved for the fun of it and continued my chores.
A few minutes later, and further to the northeast, I heard it again, another clear and clean whistle, this time just a little further away.
I did not know at the time, but that was the day it all started I believe, the day something moved in, and would want me out.
Summer kept passing day by day, and the whistles would come and go. Eventually, it was towards the mid part of August, if I remember correctly, but I was getting a little worried about the sounds coming from the woods.
I decided the next day I would head out early in the morning and take a walk up the ravine and see if any old hermit(s) or vagabonds had moved in.
I took a trail that was cut in there way before I lived here. From what I understood, there was a family that settled on this property in the late 1890’s. The family house is all but a bunch of rubble about 200 yards back today.
I did see some pictures of them once from the family that sold me the place about 10 years ago. And, like many old pictures, they looked way old for their ages at the time, and had some serious looks on their faces.
I followed the trail for a few hundred yards and noticed nobody. No campfires, tents, or even some hut made of shrubs and pine tree boughs.
I started heading back, but this time I figured I would follow the creek back that ran down the mountain, through my backyard, under the highway, and spilling into the Santiam river.
I was about 100 yards from the house when I noticed some footprints in the soft sandy bank. The sand was dry and the creek was real low this time of year, so how long they had been there, well, at least a few days I thought.
They were huge, and I mean really big, twice the size of my own when I stepped into one. Had to be at least 17-18 inches. There were 2 of them, side-by-side, as if this really tall person was just standing there looking down the ravine.
That is when I turned and noticed that I could clearly see my backyard from there, and the whole garden.
Whoever has been whistling had been doing it right from that spot I thought. And, whoever it was, well, they were tall, very tall, and heavy too. The footprints were literally inches deep into the sand.
Trees in the way.
The whistles continued every few days or so, but then, almost over night they stopped and became a whoop like sound plus a slight yell, like a “RUAHHH” that was quick, but loud and deep.
I decided, a couple weeks later around the last few days of August to take a walk back up the creek.
I noticed more impressions in the sandy parts of the bank, but what really caught my attention was the four large trees that were now blocking the creek.
They were literally almost crisscrossed. It was as if a kid had tried to make a large ‘X’ right in the middle of the creek, except no kid could have lifted those trees, they were at least 9 inches round, and 15 or so feet long.
These trees were not there a couple weeks back, whomever it was, well, they were still around.
I think it was at that moment that things became a little uncomfortable, and strange. It was that day that I grew eyes on the back of this old head of mine.
Through the last few days of August, and the first few weeks of September, things were relatively quiet other than a few whooping sounds from the hillsides here and there.
I told my son about it and he was a little worried, so much so in fact, he called his friend who was a sheriff at that time to send a deputy out to take a look around.
We both walked around and up the creek a ways. The x was still there in the middle of the creek, but the impressions and footprints were washed away with the latest rainfall.
He gave it up to a hermit or maybe neighbor kids fooling around, but Bigfoot? No, nobody thought about that until a week later.
While it had rained and it was getting colder pretty fast, that September and early October was rather warm actually.
I was still harvesting some vegetables out of my garden, and that last Saturday of September I remember, I headed out to find nothing, well, almost nothing left.
The fence was smashed on one side, and the garden, well, it was a mess. Plants were broken, and some of the food gone.
What was not gone was, or looked to be, trampled on. It took me only a few steps past the fence when I noticed the footprints, the same huge barefoot footprints I had seen up the ravine weeks earlier.
Whatever or whomever it was had raided my garden, and basically, trespassed on my property.
Now I was and am a kindly woman. But, I am also alone here since your grandfather died at such a young age and I never remarried.
So, a little spooked I was, and a little mad about the situation too.
I decided at that point to have the Sherriff out again and let him know that I will be shooting first from here on out.
Of course, I was only joking, but by the look of the footprints he noticed, and the way the garden was all tore up, he suggested I keep my gun load and by the door at all times, and not to be afraid to shoot after all.
He wrapped it up to a tall, or possibly two tall homeless vagrants most likely living up the mountain in back of me. Funny thing, he noticed two sets of footprints, apparently one was a different size than the other, something I never noticed before.
After all was said and done, and the sheriff left, my crazy neighbor who lived up the road about 3 miles stopped by.
He noticed the sheriff earlier as he passed by coming back from town. We chatted for a few and that is when he mentioned Bigfoot, or Sasquatch to be exact.
That caught me off guard, but like I said, he was my crazy neighbor. It got me to thinking later that night, what if they did exist? What if these tall people weren’t people after all?
Playing kick the can.
A couple weeks went by and fall was in full bloom, pun intended. No more garden, and no more raiders.
However, the yelling and whistling turned into something else one night, gibberish talk.
I was laying down for bed one night when it started. The trailer was one of those newer fancier ones I got after getting some life insurance monies when my husband, your granddad, passed away.
The walls however, well, they were pretty thin to tell you the truth, I swear sometimes I could hear the crickets outside even when the windows and place was locked up for the night.
It was still a bit warm for the first week or two of October, and I left my bedroom window open that night, just a crack though.
It started out near the garden, a gibberish talking of some kind.
I sat up in bed, and listening intently, I decided to move to the window where I might be able to understand what they or whatever they were was saying.
It was all foreign to me. It sounded like gibberish or Japanese, either way, I could not understand a single word of it.
But, they were in my yard, and yes, there were two, I could hear one say something that came from one end of the garden, and an answer from the opposite side.
I walked quietly to the front door , grabbed my gun, and quickly opened the door yelling. ” Get off my property or I’ll shoot!”
They were tall, heavy, and in the light that was available, I could tell they were not people, but at the same time, had the physical appearance of people. I mean they had arms, legs, and heads.
But, like I said, they were huge, so huge in fact that I knew it had to be that Bigfoot thing my crazy neighbor mentioned. And they were so big that I was literally finding myself frozen in fear.
One ran almost right past me, about 12 yards maybe from my front door. I lifted my gun just over its head and pulled the trigger.
They were gone, in the blink of an eye they were gone up the ravine and back up the mountains.
I wish that was the last of it, but it was not.
Before they smashed the side of trailer a few night s later, I would hear the screams lofting down the ravine, and right into my window every night.
They were mad I supposed, mad I shot at them maybe, I don’t know.
It was a few nights or so later when the scariest night of my life would happen, and I would find myself running down a highway in my nightgown with a shotgun in hand.
It was near the middle of October I remember, around the 14th give or take a day.
It started rather abruptly with a smack near the front of the trailer. It was nearing 10 p.m., I remember looking at the clock next to me.
It was loud, and it was hard enough to feel it vibrate through to the bedroom. It left a dent, and big one I would see the next day.
But that was not the only dent, there would be more, however, plus a broken window.
I sat up quickly, yet did not leave the bed, I just listened closely. I could hear movement, both from the front of the trailer, and right behind, well, me actually.
One of these things was right out the back of my trailer bedroom wall.
The gibberish started up again, only this time is seemed to be at a feverish pitch, not quiet yelling, but raised voices at least.
It was at that moment that through my window something appeared, a face, an ugly, hairy, red-eyed face that scared me to death.
It stood there, bent over a bit looking in through the window, and I swear it could see me through the dark. It’s face was not really human, but did have some apeish like qualities to it.
Next thing you know, it raised its ugly head and screamed bloody-murder at me.
Then came more slapping almost immediately following that scream. It felt like the whole place was under attack from a living bulldozer that wanted my trailer flat.
Smack! Bam! Thud! Craaaaack!
And then, I heard the window in the bathroom next to me shatter.
It was at that moment I dropped to the floor and crawled quickly to the living room and grabbed my shotgun. I stood up, and quickly ran over to the kitchen and grabbed more ammo out of the cupboard too.
I noticed they were now in the backyard as the gibberish continued. Suddenly, the trailer shook as if the great earthquake in San Francisco had hit again.
The smacking and hitting was now so violent that pictures and knick-knack’s were falling all over the place, and some of the glass and ceramic stuff were shattering and breaking as they hit the floor.
I had to leave. I had to get out of there I thought to myself. I started seeing dents and cracks forming after every slap and smack, I was afraid they were going to break through at any moment.
I opened the front door and jumped out. That is when the smacking stopped and I saw one of these things turn the corner and look right at me.
It was at least 7-8 feet tall, and hairy. It was also massive in bulk, the chest seemed to be almost two of me side-by-side, or more even.
Out of fear I raised my gun and pulled the trigger.
I hit it, I know I did. It might have been a wing shot, but I hit it in the arm I believe. It turned and ran quicker and faster than anything or anyone I’d ever seen run, and it let out a scream as it did.
The other beast was quick to follow the other back up the ravine.
I heard them crashing up through the brush, but all of a sudden it stopped, well, they stopped I believe.
I was not going to wait around and see if they were going to come back, in my nightgown, and gun in hand, I ran down the driveway and onto the highway where I did not stop or look back until I came to my neighbors place.
Ruined, wrecked, and moving on.
The sheriff believed me after all the evidence that I told him but, your mom and dad did not, and to this day they still do not.
It was Bigfoot, two of them, and I shot one in the arm.
I went back to living there after the few weeks it took me to calm down, and work out the fear of returning that ran through me.
My neighbor hung out there while I remained in town waiting for them to come back, which they did not. I think shooting at them and hitting one did the trick.
Today you own the property Baker, and I just want to tell you this, keep a good eye out, and listen closely to the sounds of the night, it will tell you when they are back, if they ever do come back.
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