Isabella’s Journal Part 1 & Part 2 The Gentle Giant on the Hill. Somewhere in Scotland

I was in contact today with a lovely lady who I shall refer to as Isabella, before I continue I would like to keep Isabella’s identity and area a secret, as the account unfolds you will no doubt understand why.

The witness herself was happy to be named, but we both decided in the interest of our Forest Friends Anonymity was probably the best route to take. I can’t thank Isabella enough for allowing me to share this moving and inspiring account with you all.


Somewhere in the Scottish Highlands:  I wanted to chat with you Deborah, as I have a series of events here that have happened in an area I like to walk the dog, and around my home, that I have not been able to discuss with anyone else or to gather their thoughts and opinions on what has taken place.  It’s not something you can easily share, and there are no protocols in what to do in the situation. I know because I have searched high and wide in the hopes of some answers.

First I should say, I moved to this area several years ago now to connect with nature.  Its how I relax and I love to walk the woods, with my pet dog, and to write as it’s so peaceful and quiet.  We hardly see a person from one day to the next, you can get lost in your art here, amongst all this beauty and the birds and animals.  I feel blessed to be living here as this is my idea of heaven — to be away from everything in such a quiet place.   It’s a small home but it suits me well  and it is positioned near some old farm buildings but I have no near neighbours to speak of.  I lived here for over three years and raised my dog from a pup. We walked the farm lanes and I planted an orchard and garden and I have spent a lot of time talking to myself and writing. Just taking in all the space and sky is a joy on its own.


The day the first experience happened was an ordinary day, no different to any other and little did I know my life was about to change in a way most people could never imagine.  I realise now that sometimes life brings you something that changes you and suddenly cogs fit into place and you see things in a whole new way.  Well anyway [as they say in the UK] let’s get back to that day.  My  dog, and I were in the back garden and I was trying for the millionth time to teach him to fetch — he simply wouldn’t do it and was acting really comical, so I was laughing and he was barking; we were both enthralled in our game and then I had this feeling we were being watched.  I felt it so strongly I turned and looked over the field behind the cottage and there He was standing under a tree in a small stand of trees, a Huge figure, broad in width and very large.  Beside this stand of trees is a small building , an empty storage shed of sorts, and He was there at the side of this building just watching me, I couldn’t really imagine what I was seeing, it did not make any sense at all to me. I know Scotland has no bears and I thought it might be a huge stump, although  I knew there wasn’t one there to begin with. I’m just standing there looking at him in awe and he is looking back and me and he starts to move from foot to foot, shifting from one foot to the other, in a sort of slow-motion movement. I wasn’t terrified or anything like that, just  a bit scared but even more fascinated.  And without thinking about it or realising why I started doing the same thing.  Copying his motion as we mirrored each other, swaying a bit, side to side.  And then we both stopped and just stood there. I really still couldn’t see any features on this creature or decide what it was, it was in the shadow of the tree branch it stood under but I though it must be enormous.  When we both stopped swaying I sort of bent over a bit — like a bow kind of — as a sort of greeting.  I don’t know what inspired me to do that, it happened without thought on my part, and then we both just stood there again looking at each other.

I thought he’d just stay there a bit as he seemed settled in the spot and decided to run inside the cottage and get my binoculars to really inspect what this might be with a better eye view.  I was gone only  seconds but when I returned he had disappeared.  That was surprising to me because to be out of sight he’d have to move VERY fast.  I couldn’t understand all of this and could not put it to the back of my mind.  I started investigating to see what He was or who He would’ve been. I hesitated to tell anybody I’d seen a gorilla or some wild man, so I said nothing to the locals and tried to look it up on line.  There was lots on the North American Bigfoot but nothing really other than hints here in the UK.  So I was left with that for a while and then it happened again. It was summer and I’d had to work late into the night on my book and little pebbles would hit the windows.  Chink, chink one after another.  When I stepped outside to see what was throwing them, nothing would be there that I could see, but I’d hear these owl sounds that went whipping around a huge semi-circle — from the wood next to the cottage,  over fields to another woodland and then back again? It was a mile or more and it seemed like a bird signalling system or something.


Over time I realised the owl sound wasn’t exactly authentic. And it was kind of weird to have six owls at once.  Over the farm lane that runs beside the cottage there’s a huge hedge of beech and rhododendron.  This was relatively impervious when I moved here and in recent months a few gaps have developed.  A child who visits here  first noticed them.  She wanted to go hide in them.  So I had a look to make sure it would be safe and found them filled with sticks and a few logs and it dawned on me that, seated on the log inside one of them it would be possible to peer through the thick leaves and see me sitting at the table, working.

The rubbish bins at the back had been rummaged through a few times, and chicken bones and a few oddments had been taken, one morning I went out to clean up as usual and there was a huge dead male rabbit laid out in front of the bin?  it was gigantic, he wasn’t shot and I could tell as his neck was broken. I didn’t make any connection immediately  and thought it was a weird prank or coincidence.  I threw the rabbit into a newly ploughed field.

This Spring when the flowers began blooming in the borders around the cottage I noticed two big boot prints behind the cottage [that was my theory for two long indentations anyway]  about twenty inches long. I thought I might have a prowler so I decided to put up a curtain and shield the window from prying eyes. I also showed the indentations to my daughter who agreed it looked like someone had been there and was able to step up and into the flower bed, in one go, which meant they had an enormous stride.


About a month ago I was leaving to go into town in my car.  You have to travel down a long winding lane bordered by rhododendron thickets, and as I came around a corner a large limb flew threw the air and landed in the road. It shook me a bit because if I’d been going faster it may have come through the window and it was quite big.  It came from a direction where there’s a steep drop-off, and whoever could launch it had to be pretty powerful.  It was obvious if I wanted to go forward i had to get out and move it, which felt like an ambush as i was still thinking i had prowlers on the property.  But I finally decided to give it go. It took a bit to drag the branch onto the verge and as I was huffing and puffing with this thing, the farmer came along behind me on a four-wheeler and helped me move it out of the lane.    Other Strange things happen here all the time, I find stones and little wilted bunches of flowers on the steps out back.  When I’m out walking I can feel he is around somewhere watching.  I  don’t feel scared.  Somehow I can tell his loneliness, although I don’t think he is alone here at all, it seems he isn’t the only one that’s calls the forests here home, and I like to think he has a family and loved and kin of his own.  I think on one or two occasions he has even tried to offer the hand of friendship.  Earlier in the year I was in the front garden.  I wanted to remove a big but scraggly hydrangea bush there.  It was old and deteriorated, had a couple large branches to it, but not at all attractive, right in the middle of the lawn.  I was far too much work for me and I struggled most of the afternoon with it, and finally admitted defeat, The next morning the hydrangea had been more or less demolished, bent over until all the branches we splintered down at the ground, in manageable size pieces I could carry myself?  I think he also has brought “toys” for my dog — cherry whips that are twisted into shapes.  He throws them into the back garden where I let the dog out to play.

I didn’t believe anything about Bigfoot before this.  I’d heard of them but never really paid much attention, and although I’m uncertain who? Or what? he is, he certainly fits the description, when i saw him standing on the hill He was far enough away I couldn’t see his features; stood where he needed to be in the shadows so I couldn’t see his face or expression clearly.  But he could see me perfectly.  If I had to describe him in short I would say “he was like a gentle giant, just standing there on the hill, watching me with amusement.”

 

D. L. Hatswell 6/8/17
Isabella’s Journal Part 2   Who broke the Deer fence. And shots in the night

Hello  Deborah,

This is Isabella from the far north, somewhere in Scotland where, if you recall, it appears a family of Bigfoot have become habituated to a locality near my home. For more than a year I’ve observed what I can of their presence, after the alpha male of this clan appeared on the hill above my cottage, making himself known for reasons I’m still trying to figure out.

As you know, it’s become clear that his clan communicate — generally undetected — through bird calls.  And what I thought an unusual presence of a huge band of owls in the woods next to my home is actually bigfoot conversing on their travels between the mountains beyond and the river below.  And he watches me as well, having made a hidey-hole in the rhododendron shrubbery over the lane, where he can see me at the dining table as I write.  It even seems that this bigfoot throws primitive woven stick-toys into the garden for my dog.

Having reported to you on these experiences, I decided it might be interesting to provide updates as there are new developments.  So here’s my first attempt at adding to the original report.

I’ve considered long and hard why this creature has trusted me enough to make himself known and realised it may be because I’m the one person in this area who doesn’t hunt or participate in annual shoots of birds and deer.  There are other reasons too — far more complex — that I’ll report on later as they’re a story in themselves!

Anyway, although I had no thoughts of this creature’s existence until recently, his appearance has left me with a feeling of needing to protect him.   My sighting was of a huge being so enormous as to be terrifying.  If I’d seen him standing in front of me rather than from a respectable distance I imagine I’d have run screaming.  On the other hand, there was such vulnerability in him standing there on the hill, nervously shifting back and forth, gauging what I’d do.  If nothing else, we seem to have a healthy respect for one another; some kind of interest and curiosity.  So I feel more and more responsible as his advocate, to broadcast the bit that I’ve learned.

In this edition I’ll explain about the effects of what would seem to be bigfoot vandalism in the area — very bad press for a creature that normally stays hidden and people are generally unaware of or whose existence they deny. And I’ll explain why I think this is happening; that our bigfoot population may be at greater risk than anybody knows and without enough food.

Right now the hunting season approaches up here and last year the bigfoot seemed to vacate the area from early Autumn until Spring.  The blackberries and raspberries, the tree fruit and mushrooms, are mostly gone by then.  But this year they still seem to be around and there was a bit of a catastrophe related to their changed foraging patterns.

All of the area residents got a letter saying that, in the middle of the night, fencing had been torn up on a neighbouring estate.  Someone had destroyed electric and barbed wire attached to metal posts that were sunk into cement — and made no report of it.  I was visualising that a car had gone out of control and perhaps the driver was drunk and irresponsible at a late hour.  Then I learned that a great length of fence [thirty meters or so] had been balled up into a huge knot and thrown into the road, metal fence-posts and all.

I drove down that way to see the damage and it was rather breathtaking, all of it having been torn out of the ground and left in a knot – metal posts broken in half, cement fragments lying about.  There were no tire tracks.  In fact, large boulders would have prevented a car veering off into the brush.  I imagined there’d be no obvious explanation to the landowner of what clearly seems a gigantic temper-fit to those who are aware of bigfoot’s presence here.

But I was apparently wrong.  It’s possible I’m not the only one aware of these creatures because, for several nights afterward, well after midnight, there were guns firing into the pitch-black darkness.  I’ve lived here some years now and this is something I’ve never heard before. I began to worry what was happening, being more or less convinced that our resident hairy fellow might be involved in this mysterious vandalism and was being hunted.

One morning I decided to take my dog and walk the perimeter of the area to search for other signs of activity, to understand what was happening out there in the dark of night. Sadly, there’s no way to warn the creature that this kind of infringement on human property was going to bring awful consequences for everybody.  But maybe he’d see me out-and-about and realise not everyone was hostile or carrying a rifle.  As I left the cottage, I put a line of highly-polished glittering stones along the retaining wall where I sometimes find pebbles and wilted flowers left in little piles.  Then I set out. Right away, I noticed that one of the hiding places in the rhododendron hedges below the cottage had been filled in with branches, as though to block access from the lane.  And as I stepped up into the wooded area further along, heading into the foliage, there was a sudden, horrible stench — a smell resembling a dead carcass mixed with fermented garbage.  The odour was just overpowering.  This seemed to be a classic warning not to continue into the woods. So I returned to the lane and walked a good half mile in parallel with the tree line to the area where the fence had been destroyed.  Along the way, the smell gradually subsided.

As I stood looking at the place where the fence was now gone, the wire and posts torn away, I realised that, travelling “as the crow flies” some distance through the wood, the demolished fencing was in direct line with the observation “hidey hole” that the bigfoot had carved into the rhododendron hedge next to my cottage. Immediately below the ruined fence lay the main road and a lay-by where a long row of industrial-sized trash bins are stored, most often full of residential waste.  Also very interesting — this incident had occurred in exactly the same place as a large tree limb had been launched through the air to stop my car in an apparently “ambush” this past Spring.

It seemed clear from what I knew that the alpha male Bigfoot was laying claim to dangerous virgin territory this year – but why? The dog and I walked on, leaving the farm lane for the main road, on approach toward the huge rubbish bins where I could see that one had been flung open and the contents ransacked.

There was kitchen waste all over the ground:  melon rinds, juice containers, chicken bones, ready meal cartons.  I decided to come back later with bin bags and clean it up.   Meanwhile, we continued down the path to a neighbouring shooting estate about a mile away and then turned to come back along the same route.  The rubbish was still strewn along the ground when we passed by this time, but the bin lid had been closed with big muddy smears across the lid.

Taking in the entire situation I came to the conclusion that our alpha male was grasping for subsistence.  Whatever he could glean from the river half a mile below, combined with a reliable source of bin garbage.  He could carry his takings uphill through the woods [minus that obstructive fence] exiting through the hidey hole at my cottage, and from there into the high fields via a deep drainage ditch, and beyond stretched the vast forests. In some ways – a Bigfoot paradise.  But it had also become clear the chances he was taking all of a sudden and I wondered what was forcing this change in habit; what drove his obvious desperation. I mean, between the time I’d passed by the strewn-about garbage the first time, looped around and returned, he’d been back to close the bin lid.  In broad daylight.  And after being shot at the night before.

The panicked nature of his grab for a new kingdom was falling into place as we began the uphill climb on the farm lane to the cottage, when I was suddenly struck by the most awful feeling of exhaustion and nausea.  My heart pounded and I felt faint.  My vision seemed dim and I was afraid I’d never make it home. The dog looked confused when I stopped to sit down on one of the large boulders just above the ruined fence.  He began to whine and pace as he’s very apt to pick up on my mood and emotions.  I pulled out the mobile phone I keep in my pocket whenever I go out walking and thought about calling for help.  No sooner had I started to scroll through the address book when the feeling began to clear, and then suddenly disappeared  I pulled myself up with my walking stick and we continued slowly, finally arriving at the door.

That evening as I sat at the table working I heard pebbles on the windows and owl calls — something I hadn’t heard in a long while.  I stepped outside and listened. Everything went dead quiet. “Are you here to apologise?” I asked.  “Didn’t you see it was me?  You know I won’t hurt you and I don’t have any guns.  You know you’re welcome.  We’re friends aren’t we?” The air was completely still.  You could have heard a mouse sneeze.  It’s been several weeks now with no sign of him at all.  The stones I put out as an offering were never taken and I’ve brought them back into the cottage before their purpose raises any questions with walkers coming by on the lane.

I wonder if it’s the change of seasons and if the pebbles on the window were a good-bye for now — or an apology for having turned his energy against me; if it was a sad mistake.  In any case, there’s no sign of him at the moment. It was frightening that he didn’t heed the guns and doesn’t seem to understand the ire that’s he raised in destroying property here.  But I’ll be looking forward to any indication he’s still out there and meanwhile trying to think of ways to help.  Garbage, after all, is not his natural food.

I think he knows what’s going through my mind and what I’m trying to say.  In which case he realises that I cleaned up his mess at the bins to try to keep him out of further trouble.  Surely he realises I’m on his side?

Anyway, I’ll keep you posted on future developments.

Signing off for now,

Isabella

Parts 3 and 4

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