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.
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.
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.
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.