Posted by: Craig Woolheater on October 11th, 2013
From Will Jevning’s blog:
The following was sent to me recently, it is another in the growing list of stories being sent to me in what certainly looks like either official or at least officials working for governmental agencies taking an active role in the supression of physical and/or anecdotal evidence that supports the contention that giant manlike creatures exist. Here is his story:
This started with a family deer hunting trip in the Fall of 1966 by Myself, my father Harry, mother Lola, and our pet dog Suzi. We lived in a suburb of Salem, Oregon called Keizer, and were traveling to an area southeast of Bend, Oregon called China Hat Butte in the Deschutes National Forest. The trip was to have lasted 5 days, but got cut short due to some serious Bigfoot events. During the 2nd night in camp we heard a noise like NFL Linebackers crashing through the trees surrounding the camp, brush being kicked into, and small logs being thrown about. Our pet dog was frightened in a life or death manner. This lasted around an hour it seemed like. Then around 2 hours later my dad got up and left the tent to use the restroom (friendly bush). He came back after what seemed like a half-hour frightened in a way I’d never seen him like. He was beet-red in the face, and was breathing hard. He then made an announcement that we were returning home the next morning, and said that we were going to tell friends that hunters were shooting too close to camp. We tried to get some sleep, and left first thing in the morning. After we picked up some ice cream cones in Sisters, my dad made another announcement, “I will never return to China Hat Butte as long as I live”.
Time to move this report around 10 months into the future, in the early Fall of 1967. My dad had started a secret letter-writing exchange with his fraternal twin sister Gladys. I knew of the letter writing, but my mother Lola had no clue. He would post the letters privately, without my mother’s knowledge. Eventually he sort of slipped up on security a bit, and I was able to see partially the content of one of the letters. My dad was talking about getting his brothers and sisters together for some sort of reunion, although I didn’t know what that meant at the time. I was able to see other parts of letters (sent once per week). Eventually a near complete story came out in my 10 year-old mind. His brothers and sisters (brother Charles, sisters Hazel, and Gladys) would gather in the Fall of 1968 at the vacation cabin in LaPine, Oregon owned by brother Charles and wife Edna during deer season. They were going to use the Deer Season 1968 as cover to kill a big creature, or something, a beast? Bigfoot was not in the family lingo at the time. Let’s back up and give you a feel for these family members. They were pioneering ranchers who settled the Fort Rock Valley of Northern Lake County, Oregon. They were trained as expert firearms persons from very little kids by a family connected to the Old West and Wyatt Earp’s political machine. My dad was the best shot, so guess who would have been the main shooter on this trip? At Thanksgiving of 1967 my dad took his brother aside and brought him into the fold, I saw them both walk up the street after dinner to have a private conversation. The letters then indicated a planning meeting to be held at a motel in Bend, Oregon in early March of 1968. Then my dad started getting weaker physically as work became more demanding. By late September of 1968 my father suffered an aneyrism of the decending aorta relating to heavy smoking. Then died about 10 days later. But while he lay dying in the hospital, some strange events occured. I knew the storage place for the letter exchange file my dad kept, amongst his rockhound educational books and pamplets, BUT my mother had no knowledge of them. Then one day I was walking to school while my dad was in the hospital, and parked near our house, around the corner, and out of sight from the house was a Ford Falcon Station Wagon with US Forest Service markings and paint. No one was inside. When I returned home and checked the letter collection stash file, the letters were gone. All I’ve ever thought is that the Law Enforcement arm of the USFS broke into our home and took the letters. All without any warrent presented to our family! How would they have found the location? One way, only one way, and that was to bully a man laying dying in a hospital, my father Harry! After the death of my dad, the private contract postal station in our suburb of Keizer treated my mother and myself very rudely! Was there a USFS Law Enforcement intercept of our mail going on?