Screaming or howling in Sampson County, North Carolina

It was a sunny but cool Saturday in November 1976. I was home for the weekend from college when my cousin Don and I decided to do a little squirrel hunting. Don had a 12-gauge shotgun and I had a 22-gauge rifle. I had seen a fair amount of squirrel activity around while fishing at a nearby farm pond and thought we would make this a fruitful trip. This is rural America with the nearest town of 1,000 just 15 miles away. It is also a farming community with large fields dotting the countryside and woods separating the fields. The area we planed to hunt is made up of mostly hardwood trees with cypress trees down near the river that flowed through the property. We walked about a half mile into the woods until we came over a ridge and started down towards the river which was about 75 yards away, all the while looking up in the treetops for squirrel sign. I look down to insure my footing when I caught a glimpse of something off to my right between me and the river. Coming up from the river bottom was a huge dark mass. I froze in my tracks and my cousin bumped into the back of me. I could feel the barrel of the 12 gauge across the small of my back. Don looked around me and said, “what is that?” I couldn’t speak. The mass continued in our direction taking long strides and ignoring the small trees, brush, and briars in its path, as if they were not there. It stopped about 30 feet from us. It looked upset that we happen to intrude in its space. I could clearly see its face, body, feet and hands. It had dark brown hair that was longer on its head and arms than the legs, chest and stomach. Very short hair on its face, and the skin shone through. The hair was darker the closer to the body it was. It looked to be about 9 to 10 feet tall with a very heavy muscular structure and weighing about 800 lbs. I am 6’1” and was about 4 feet higher up the ridge yet could almost look eye to eye with the creature. It then grabbed a dead old hardwood tree still upright which was about 6 inches in diameter in its right hand with its left hand placed on a larger oak about 20 inches in diameter. As it looked at us with yellowish looking bloodshot eyes, it snapped the old dead oak off at the ground and made a loud grunting bark. I could see it’s teeth with the canines a little longer than our own but not pronounced like a bear or dogs. I could even see vapor from its breath. I don’t think it could see mine because I was not breathing. I didn’t smell anything and didn’t expect to, as it was downwind. I could feel the 12-gauge’s barrel getting pushed further into the small of my back as cousin Don was positioning himself with me directly between him and the creature. It seemed aggressive at first, but it did not get any closer than 30 feet. Like it wanted to send a message, which my cousin and I read loud and clear. We were not invited, so get the heck out of there! I was now ready for a hasty retreat as my legs started to finally move and the brain cramp I experienced seemed to lessen. As I turned around to leave, Don and I kind of got crossed up. We scrambled back over the ridge and ran for at least a quarter mile before we stopped. Don was hysterical. For a guy with a back as wide as a house, the screaming and tears just did not fit. I was trying to calm him down, at the same time trying to understand what we had seen. As we both calmed down, and weak legged from just running the 440 along with the loss of adrenaline, we kind of just fell on our backsides. After a few choice words between two teenagers, we came to the conclusion that it probably was just a bootlegger in a gorilla suit. That was just a show to mind us to stay away from some hidden moonshine still. Why we didn’t shoot it was also discussed and we both agreed that it didn’t seem right. We are experienced hunters and you just don’t shoot to be shooting, and as far as we knew this think was not in season. It also looked too human. I looked into the Bigfoot phenomena by purchasing the book “Bigfoot” by Ann Slate and Alan Berry. The accounts described by Alan gave me solace that I was not alone. Others were experiencing the same encounters. My conclusion still shifted back to the moonshiner theory, even as I felt the gorilla costume seemed to fit the moonshiner too well. So that’s the story we told our relatives. Even though it never seemed right or fit the experience, that’s the way I saw it. I left the area to go back to college after that. Never really returning. My brother built a house not 300 yards from where we had the encounter, and I plan to visit the spot from time to time. I guess in one way to hope for a chance encounter and in another way to relive the one I had. Man what a rush. After the demise of Ray Wallace, I felt I should tell this story now. Also in hope that others in rural eastern North Carolina that may have experienced a similar story might want to tell theirs.