Gone Squatching

Supernatural Stories | Jan 5, 2013 | 8 min read
48 Votes, average: 4 out of 5
What the hell was I doing out here? I had let my cousin convince me to go Squatching.

Don't get me wrong. I adore my cousin. We're closer than sisters. We share many of the same beliefs. I work in an historic building, with lots of spirit activity. She and I have spent a lot of time there after hours, and have gotten some really interesting EVP recordings. She has managed to get some excellent pictures, too. Recently, she took a picture of her daughter as the girl was standing by the window. There on the valance was a very distinct face. We figured either she had a playful ghost, or an infestation of faeries.

In our younger days, we had both seen UFOs. The rest of the world considers us weird.

We don't care. We know what we saw, and what we heard. Now, I was starting to have doubts about my own sanity for agreeing to our current madness.

I am far from an outdoor person. My idea of roughing it is not having a place to plug in the curling iron or microwave. Neither of us hike or camp on a regular basis. But for some reason known only to the gods, we had decided to spend a couple of nights in a tent in the state park, where there had recently been some Bigfoot sightings.

To add insult to injury, our normally balmy Autumn weather turned cold. Bone-chillingly so. The temperature had been pleasant enough during the day, in the mid-50s. As soon as the sun went down, it dropped rapidly. Whereas we had worn simply vests over flannel shirts, now we were scrambling for thermal underwear, hats and gloves.

We had set camera traps along several deer trails. The cameras were borrowed from some friends who hunted. The guys had given me some quicky directions, and I think we did it right, but you can never tell for sure until you upload the pictures. We'd see come morning.

Mandy, my cousin, wanted the full Squatching experience. Meaning she wanted to go walk about in the middle of the night. She had a pack ready holding recorders, and flashlights and a pair of night vision goggles she had borrowed from her son, who used them in his job as a
game warden. We made sure our tents were secure, that our food coolers were set up in nearby trees to keep any roving coyotes from enjoying our largesse, shouldered our packs and set out.

We stuck to the walking path that wound through the park for a good long time. Even following the flags set in the hillside, it was hard going. The slopes were steep, the angles torturous in the dark, even with flashlights. Finally, we ran out of path, where it crested the hill.
There was a marker showing how far we had come since setting out on the path. Damn. Only half a mile. My legs felt like I had just hiked up the Washington Monument, and Mandy was digging in her pack for her inhaler. We were too old for this nonsense.

We aimed our lights down the other side of the hill. No wonder the path ran out. It was
almost straight down, filled with scrub cedar and kudzu. We decided if we were going to be doing any sound blasting, this was as good a place as any.

I pulled the recorder from Mandy's pack. We had cued up the sounds before we left the house. It wouldn't do to turn the thing on full blast and wind up broadcasting her grandson's
"Wheels on the Bus" track. We had downloaded a full range of calls: screams, whistles, growls, and yells. It was hard to believe you could actually order these things online. Guess it was true. You really can buy anything on eBay.

The first set of howls sounded eery as they echoed back off the surrounding hills. Other than a few distant coyote yips, and some rustling underbrush, we heard nothing. No answering
Squatch. We stood for a few minutes, then Mandy picked up a piece of wood from the ground.

She took a few steps to a nearby tree and made some tree knocks. Apparently, Squatches love tree knocks.

There! Off to the north! An answering knock! Then another! Mandy was grinning like a fool. She swung at the tree again. One single, solid knock.

This time, nothing. Maybe we don't know the code. I signaled my intention, then blast another call from the recorder. This time, a long low whistle bounced from tree to tree.
Again, nothing. Solid, seeming unbreakable silence.

We sat on the ground and talked softly for a few minutes. In the distance, we heard a soft "whoosh" that could have been an owl hunting. Or something else. Sitting on the crest of a hill, in the dark, surrounded by creeping sounds and creepier shadows, everything could have been something else. About the only thing we were willing to rule out was a zombie apocalypse.

Finally, with the full moon high in the night sky, we decided our butts had chilled enough
on the damp ground. We packed up our gear and headed carefully back down the flags to our
camp.

We had left everything secure and put in its place. According to the ranger at the front gate, there were only two or three other parties in the park this weekend, and they were in the campground on the far side of the park. So why had our coolers been pulled down? Why was our tent unzipped and why was one of our sleeping bags pulled out into the middle of the clearing?

We knew there were no bears in the park. Black bears weren't in this part of the state. Coyotes lacked the ability to work a zipper on the tent, and couldn't have gotten the coolers down from their high perch. It had to be another person. Or at least another hominid. Just to make sure we weren't crazy, we photographed everything, then set to cleaning up the mess. The coolers seemed to have been opened, and rummaged through, but the only thing
we could find missing were a few chewy chocolate granola bars. Strange. Had it been a coyote, you'd think he'd have taken the cooked bacon we had brought, or maybe the sausage biscuits. It was too dark to see any foot prints around, but we had our suspicions what we'd find come morning.

It was Mandy's sleeping bag that had been dragged out. We shook it out, making sure nothing had decided to mark its territory using her bedding for the target. Nope. Nice and dry, with no tell-tale marks of any kind. We folded it back up and put it in the tent.

Even though it was late, we lit the camp stove and heated water for tea. We were cold, and tired, but too wound up to sleep at the moment. Besides, something wasn't right. We felt like we were being watched. Every so often, we'd hear a soft "woof", not a bark, but a low exhalation, just outside the range of our lights. It could have been a deer. Bucks will snort to show their displeasure of their space being encroached upon.

Finally, we decided to go to bed. The moon had slipped behind some clouds, and the night was getting colder. We pulled our boots off, and slid inside out sleeping bags. Yes, we kept our clothes on. Not only was it too cold to get undressed, we didn't like the idea of being caught
with out literal pants down in case our visitors decided to return.

It didn't take long for us to drift off to sleep. Sometime during the night, I heard Mandy unzip the tent. She must have needed to answer Nature's call. She came back quickly. Guess it was too chilly to spend a lot of time in the bushes.

I tried to turn over. Damned dog was on the bed again. I couldn't turn without hearing him grunt. Wait. Dog? Bed? The dog was back at home with the cats. And the bed. I was lying in a dome tent in the middle of a state park. Was my cousin curled up on the foot of my bedding? I reached over and shook her shoulder. She mumbled something that sounded like "not now" and rolled over. I shook her harder.
Finally, I heard "What?"

"Grab the light." I spoke softly. Whatever was here, I didn't want to piss it off.

She turned on a small LED flash. A small pinpoint of light was aimed right at my nose. I snatched it out of her hand and aimed it at my feet.

Something large and hairy and reddish-brown was curled up in a ball making soft sucking sounds, grunting every so often.
Mandy and I scrambled back as far as the dome would allow. There, just inside out tent, was a baby Satchquatch. He or she appeared sound asleep, sucking away on a thumb.

Holy shit! We had a real, honest to God Bigfoot, asleep in our tent. I reached for my
camera. Where was it? Shit! It was in the pack, and we had put it back into the car before we
went to bed. Shit! What now?
And this was a baby. Going by human standards, maybe three years old. Too little to be
away from his mother. Mother. Where was the mother? Mothers protecting their young are
fierce. A nine foot tall, 700 pound mother was likely to be a real bitch. And here we were with
her baby.
I reached back, and opened the other zipper behind us. We carefully scooted backwards,
until we were clear. Now what?
Something came sailing through the dried oak leaves still clinging to the trees. A rock fell
at Mandy's feet. Another rock followed, then a third and a fourth. We were being bombarded. By
the time the sixth rock hit, we were pulling open the car doors. We weren't going to leave the
campground, but we also weren't going to leave the car that night.
I opened the window just a bit, enough to keep the windows from steaming up. I could
hear the thuds as rocks continued to rain around our tent. Then they stopped. Before I had a
chance to get used to the silence, I heard it. A high-pitched, yodeling wail.
It was all I could do not to scream in return. That was no dog, no coyote. It sounded notof
this world, a disembodied scream that echoed through the trees, and made every nerve ending
stand ready for fight or flight.
We sat in the car, staring at the tent, waiting. There was a small whistling sound, then a
soft whimper. It was barely audible.
A sapling at the edge of the clearing moved. A large shadow appeared as the moon broke
through. Large. An understatement. It was huge. As suddenly as it appeared and loomed against
the tree line, it suddenly squatted down. Then I saw why.
A small tornado blew out of our tent and launched itself at the shadowy figure. We heard
happy sounding chattering and cheeping sounds.
The large shadow stood and stepped further into the clearing. Our first, and probably
foray into Saquatching, and we see one at close range. And she was holding her baby.
Mandy and I could both sympathize with her. She had become separated from her child,
and had no doubt been frantic. Now, they had been reunited. Instead of leaving, she just stood
there in the clearing, holding her child. What was she going to do?
She stared at the car, as if she was waiting for something. What? She took another step
closer, then stopped again, waiting.
I felt Mandy rooting for something. She was hanging over the back of the seat.
"Got it!" she had the camera. She turned it on and quickly set it for nightime
photographs. I leaned as far back as I could so I didn't get in the frame, and waited.
She managed to snap four quick shots. She tried to get a fifth shot and nothing happened.
Damn! A fine time for the batteries to need recharging.
When the flashing stopped, our guest seemed to nod. She turned, set her baby down and
took his little hand. The two of them disappeared into the tree line.
We sat in the car for another hour, talking excitedly about what had just happened.
Finally, we worked up the nerve to go back to the tent. At least now, we figured we'd be left
unmolested for the rest of the night. And if not, we knew she wouldn't hurt us.
In the early morning light, we found new batteries, and checked what was on the camera.
Two fuzzy shots of an fuzzy blur, one shot of my nose, and one exquisite picture of a large hairy
figure holding a small hairy figure. The little one was looking dead on into the camera, and I'll be
damned if it didn't look like he was smiling and waving!

Gone Squatching by Helen Chapman

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Reviews

Belinda k Jan 13, 2013

Actually I did. It's buried someplace in the bowels of this place.

Helen Chapman Jan 13, 2013

Thank you darlin. I feel the same way about you I still say you can write wrings around me. You can paint whole murals with words. I on the other hand, draw stick figures. Have you submitted "Conversation" here yet?

Belinda k Jan 7, 2013

As usual my Twisted Bitch sister, priceless and wonderful. And as usual, I hate your rancid guts. So there! Oh...and I gave you 5 stars.

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