Our Sasquatch cat is named Sol. The Forest People rescued him from near death after his woodland caretaker passed away of old age. Sol was taken in by the Big Creek Sasquatch and nursed back to life from a state of severe loneliness and starvation.
Some gifts are more precious than others, and Sol came to us as a gift of pure sunshine. We thank the Sasquatch and all the good forces that brought him into our circle. He is fearless, gentle and loving, a guardian spirit of perseverance and courage. If a cat can be certain of himself, Sol is just that. Nothing rattles him, not even the vacuum cleaner.
His one peculiar quirk is his friendship with mice. You would think that after living in the woods and nearly starving, he’d be a ravenous mouse carnivore, but he’s not. He does enjoy catching and toying with them and is quite skillful in that regard. The problem being, is that he then brings them into the house and lets them go. I have tried to explain to him that we do not condone mice taking up residence in the house, would he please keep his little friends outside, but he just smiles, blinks his eyes, and brings them inside anyway.
Richard Rensberry, Bigfoot Book Series author 1/24/22
I find it very doubtful that Tecumseh would engage in a conversation with someone the likes of Mr. Smith, but just in case Mr. Smith decides to start playing rough, I am dropping by to warn Tecumseh that the weasel has been nosing around in our business.
“Ah, Mr. Smith,” Tecumseh snorts. “The man with a stone heart and a snake’s tongue. Yes, we have had the pleasure to meet.”
“So I have been informed,” I say. “What did the snake have to hiss about me and my dealings with the Bigfoot?”
“He asked me about you. Nothing was said about a Bigfoot.”
“I see. And what, may I ask, did he want to know about me?’
I am discovering a few interesting things on the Internet. I have found that I have returned from Cross Over with two sacks of kenaf seeds, and a Google search has led me quite miraculously to a kenaf researcher just down the road in Onaway, Michigan, as well as a state of the art processor of industrial hemp and possibly kenaf in Gladwin, Michigan. This I find very intriguing, because it aligns with the third Sasquatch parchment that I am holding in my hands, it states: Nothing Is By Accident. This is an intriguing truth so easily dismissed by the weak of mind because responsibility for such an all consuming statement is hard to fathom. The parchment picture associated with this concept is an empty circle, or a zero.
I already have an intuitive grasp of this concept. I believe it means full responsibility boils down to zero. In the language of math, it is the equivalent of the denominator that cancels out every numerator by being equal to each other. In other words, taking full responsibility leaves absolutely nothing to which justifications or lies can attach themselves. The remainder is simply the truth. Nothing is by accident.
Onaway, Michigan, is the home of Kenaf Partners USA, a website loaded with information about the valuable Sasquatch kenaf seeds I have brought back from Cross Over. Unbeknownst to me, kenaf has been building a foothold in nearby Onaway for several years. The word Onaway itself is an American Indian term meaning “The Awakening”. I am certain that it is no accident that the hub for disseminating kenaf books, seeds and other information on regenerative agriculture happens to be located in Onaway and right next door to a Sasquatch portal.
The processing center in Gladwin is just icing on the cake. I am perfectly situated in the eye of the “The Awakening”.
I am wrenched from my thoughts by the rumbling sound of Tehcuseh’s motorcycle roaring up the driveway. I drop my research and hustle out the front door to meet him. It has to be something important for my friend to get all bundled-up and venture out on such a bitterly cold day to ride his bike. The temperature is in the mid teens with the first flakes of snow fluttering in the wintery wind.
“What’s up Tecumseh?” I call out over the chugga-chugga of his machine.
He throttles down and removes his gloves and googles. “We’ve got a Mita problem, my friend. Buddy Decker is on the war path. He’s forming up a vigilante posse to go after one of your Sasquatch friends he says busted up his cabin.”
“Buddy Decker?” I raise my arms in confusion.
“Ex-deputy Sheriff from Bay City. Him and his brother bought the old 405 Camp over there abutting Big Creek State land of which you are so fond. Said he saw a Bigfoot hightailing it for the trees when he arrived to open the camp for deer season.”
“I’ll be darned,” I say. “I’ll bet the pot that it’s a Squatch by the name of Demarcus. He was looking for a fight with me before my friend Loquius intervened just prior to my first trip into Cross Over. Demarcus is a rebellious sort, just recently exiled from Cross Over for supposedly kidnapping humans.”
“Now he’s gotten himself a bounty on his head. Decker was in the Party Store in Comins, talking up young Jeff Davies to get his buddies together. Decker wants them to come on out and flush-drive the woods while he and his brother set up in their tree stands along Big Creek with their rifles.”
“Give me a minute to get dressed and collect my gear,” I say. “We’ll head on down there in the truck, no need for the bike. You got your gun?”
“More than one,” Tecumseh admits.
I decide to get my Beretta out of the car and grab my lever action 30-30 rifle. The rifle is light and short, great for navigating through the woods.
“It’d be nice to beat those guys out there,” I say, “but if they happen to be there already, it might even be a good idea to drive up to their camp and volunteer for his posse. That way we can keep an eye on things, kind of mess with the works if need be.”
“You decide,” Tecumseh shrugs, “I’ll have your back either way.”
(to be continued)
….
Book 1 of Conversations With Sasquatch, The Encounter can be purchased here: https://amzn.to/3f2shST
A QuickTurtle Book hot off the press is Conversations With Sasquatch, The Encounter. This is my new Big Foot novel set in Lewiston, Michigan.
I had my first encounter with Sasquatch when I was six years old. I was fishing for sunfish is the Thunder Bay River when Big Foot appeared. I didn’t Really think much about it for many years until my adult encounter while hunting for morel mushrooms near Big Creek where the story unfolds with this excerpt:
“I have had to readjust my beliefs and rethink many an opinion since I met a Sasquatch while out hunting for morel mushrooms in Lewiston, Michigan. I had no idea that these mushrooms were high on their list of dietary delicacies. They prize and love them.
I would have been afraid and crapped my pants if it hadn’t been for the long outstretched arm that offered me a half eaten morel. There was nothing aggressive or hostile in this gesture. He effused a welcoming aura of curious friendliness.
I took the half-eaten morel and popped it into my mouth. As I shook my head affirmatively, I offered him my paper sack that contained about twenty morels and two or three beefsteaks I had gathered along a cedar ridge beside Big Creek.
It was then that I noticed the pure silence that had fallen over the forest. The crows look-out caws had vanished, the squirrels had shushed their chatter and rattle in the trees. Not even a bluejay or a mosquito was daring a peep.” (Purchase here)
I have had to readjust my beliefs and rethink many an opinion since I met a Sasquatch while out hunting for morel mushrooms in Lewiston, Michigan. I had no idea that these mushrooms were high on their list of dietary delicacies. They prize and love them.
I would have been afraid and crapped my pants if it hadn’t been for the long outstretched arm that offered me a half eaten morel. There was nothing aggressive or hostile in this gesture. He effused a welcoming aura of curious friendliness.
I took the half-eaten morel and popped it into my mouth. As I shook my head affirmatively, I offered him my paper sack that contained about twenty morels and two or three beefsteaks I had gathered along a cedar ridge beside Big Creek.
It was then that I noticed the pure silence that had fallen over the forest. The crows look-out caws had vanished, the squirrels had shushed their chatter and rattle in the trees. Not even a bluejay or a mosquito was daring a peep.
I struggled to swallow the copper taste that had encroached to dry my mouth.
Sasquatch smiled. He had jaws filled with yellow teeth and eyes that twinkled with delight.
“Thank you,” he said, and jiggled his lips like a horse as it eats a sugar cube off your hand.
“You’re welcome,” I replied with another swallow.
“There’s a storm in the air,” Sasquatch offered with a gesture towards the sky, “the ozone is lifting my hairs.” He proceeded to run his hand a few inches above his chest where I could see the hairs stand up as if a magnet were being run over a cache of metal shavings. He abruptly slapped his chest and laughed. It sounded eerily like the shriek of an eagle guarding its kill.
The sky was clear, but I thought I could hear a distant rumble of thunder to the west. I couldn’t remember any rain being in the forecast. I had come dressed only in jeans, a polo shirt and sneakers.
“You humans are such frail creatures,” he said. “I remember when you were more like us, hunters and gatherers of the health and fruits of God.”
I really couldn’t tell if he was speaking to me verbally or telepathically. There was such a sense of otherworldliness. I had a hard time getting a grip on my racing thoughts and emotions. In the absence of abject fear, I felt a combination of elation and serenity. I guess it was what you’d call dumbstruck.
“Not much of a talker, are you?” he asked and popped a fresh mushroom into his mouth.
“I have never met a Sasquatch before,” I managed.
“Not many a human has,” he whispered conspiratorially. “You are the first in many thousands of years I have spoken to. You are the chosen one”
“I am honored,” I humbly croaked.
“I am not so sure you should be. You humans are blowing it. You are blind to the world of the Sasquatch. You have lost the memory and instinct of your body’s genes and the very essence of your immortal soul.”
A darkness crept stealthily over the ridge. Lightning flashed and a huge clap of thunder reverberated and rattled my teeth. I began to shiver uncontrollably as Sasquatch melted into the rain with a welcoming gesture for me to follow him there to wherever there was going to be.
QuickTurtle Books® 