It was a cool, crisp night and late September 2014, the kind of
fall evening that had just enough bite to keep you alert.
Nestled in the hilly, wooded expanse of Jessamine County,
Kentucky, the house set perched on one of the highest points in
the area, overlooking a deep valley that twisted its way
through the landscape. The night was quiet, with only
the soft rustling of leaves and the breeze and the distant
murmur of the Creek below. Around 1:00 AM, the stillness
was interrupted as a man and his girlfriend stepped outside to
let their dogs out. The moon cast a silver glow, and
the stars dotted the sky like distant campfires.
The German Shepherd, a loyal and watchful companion, was alert,
sticking close to the moment and her small dog.
It was unusual behavior, the man noted, though he brushed it off
as nerves from some unseen animal.
Just as the man moved toward the garage to secure shutters on the
chicken coop, the night split with a sound, a howl, deep and
reverberating, echoing through the valley and filling the air
with a chilling intensity. It was unlike anything he had
ever heard before, unearthly and powerful, resonating through his
chest. The girlfriend, visibly shaken,
scooped up her little dog and hurried inside.
Even the dog, usually bold and curious, scrambled to safety
without a second thought. The German Shepherd, heist fix
on the darkness, stood firm. He returned to the yard, tension
threading through his limbs as he scanned the darkness.
The silence was eerie, even the neighbours, hounds known for
barking at anything that moved or mute.
The only sounds were the echo of the strange howl and the distant
loaning of cattle. Distressed and agitated, the man
went back inside and secured a leash on his more spirited dog
and returned outside. The dog's behavior was strange,
too reluctant to move, eyes darting into the blackness.
Then the house came again, further off this time, but
unmistakable. They carried a challenge
warning. The man's stomach tightened,
every fibre in him wanted to retreat, but curiosity and
determination kept him ridded to the spot.
Over the next few nights, the man reflected on what had
happened. Memories of other strange
occurrences came rushing back, rocks mysteriously appearing on
the roof, the unmistakable foul stench that wafted through the
yard on some evenings. He remembered the night when he
and his girlfriend had shown a flashlight into the valley and
caught sight of a pair of glowing red eyes 8 feet above
the ground. The eyes watched him, unblinking
from beside an old post used as a dog pen.
The memory made him shiver. Then there was a night he had
seen it. The memory was seared into his
mind, a massive figure walking on two legs, emerging from
behind a cedar tree as a doe quietly passed by, oblivious to
the creature's presence. The moonlight and the glow from
his house lights had given him just enough visibility to take
in the details. It was huge, towering over him,
covered in dark hair that bristled as it moved.
There was no snout like a bear. It's just a flat face and a
black shaped head that shifted smoothly on broad shoulders.
Muscles rippled beneath its fur as it strode silently with a
speed and grace that defied his size for 30 feet.
He had watched across the yard and vanished behind another
tree, leaving him with a sense of wonder and dread.
After that night, the man carried a shotgun when stepping
outside, even during the day. The next day he found a partial
footprint in the hard ground, twice the size of his own hand.
He wanted to cast a but lack the materials.
Still, he had taken photos of odd human like droppings and
noted the spots where BlackBerry bushes had mysteriously
disappeared, replaced by nothing but trampled grass.
As he shared his story, he recalled the old tales passed
down by the elders, stories of strange creatures, of dogs found
lifeless without explanation. It seemed observed, like
folklore until he lived it. He'd heard the howls again, just
as he had tonight, echoing down from the hills, making the hair
on his arm stand up. And when the cows grew restless
or the dogs stared into the woods without a sound, he knew
it was near. He kept his journal now,
charting the calls and sightings, ready for whatever
the night ahead would bring. Pretty well, just being right up
on that thing like that. Let's take a look at this next
one here. In the fall of 1990, a crisp
October morning unfolded in the wooded hills of Hopkins County,
Kentucky. The vast property of the old
Heckley Mines spread out, silent and shadowed.
As the first light of dawn approached, 15 year old Jake and
his father, along with his father's best friend, were eager
for their bow hunting expedition.
They arrived at the hunting site before sunrise, the chilly air
biting at their fingers as they silently made their way to their
stands. Jake's stand was positioned in
the wooded edge of a coal flat, a rugged circular space
encircled by dense forest on three sides.
The 4th side opened onto an old truck path used in the mine's
operational days. Beyond the flat, a hill rose,
bisected by a power line, the clearing shown stark against the
thick woods on either side. Settling into his stand, Jake
scanned the dark woods, his senses attuned to the natural
Symphony of the early morning. Suddenly, a crashing noise came
from the woods across the truck path.
It was loud, too heavy for a deer.
The sound barreled down the hill and then stopped abruptly at the
edge of the flat. Jake's breath caught, ears
straining as silence settled again.
Moments later, whatever it was started racing back and forth
along the wooded edge of the flat, its pace of frantic and
unrelenting. The pattern repeated, stopped,
followed by sharp, deliberate knocking.
Sounds like wood striking wood, but louder and more measured
than any woodpecker. The hairs on Jake's neck stood
up. The knocking ceased, replaced by
a scream so raw and primal it sent shivers through his spine.
The scream was deep and guttural, with an eerie high
pitch the sliced through the morning stillness.
Jake's heart pounded as the same sequence, running, knocking,
screaming, played out again and again.
Suddenly, footsteps approached from behind.
Jake tensed only to find his father's friend emerging from
the trail, his face pale and eyes wide.
He too had heard the sounds and was just a shaken.
When Jake's father finally joined them, he revealed he
hadn't heard a thing from his distant stand in the bottom
lands. A week later Jake found himself
back at the same stand, the memory of the unsettling morning
still fresh. The sun was now cresting the
horizon, casting a pale light over the land.
His eyes were inexplicably drawn to the power line hill.
Something was off, a large Bush like shape to the left of the
cut that hadn't been there before.
It's collar was a stark brown against the green of the hill.
He stared, realization donning as the Bush swayed through.
The morning air was perfectly still.
His breath hitched as the shape moved and stood.
It was no Bush, but a figure. It was tall, human like, and
covered in shaggy brown hair. It had a powerful build,
towering and formidable. Jack's heart raced as his
father's whistle, their signal, cut through his fear.
Jake turned to his father, hidden just 20 yards away,
pointing to his eyes and then up the hill, he saw it too.
They watched it in stunned silence as a creature took a few
steps, paused, and turned his head to look in their direction.
Its gaze sent a fresh wave of adrenaline through Jake.
The being moved with an uncanny grace, stepping effortlessly
into the woods and disappearing from sight.
The moment felt like an eternity, even if only seconds
passed. Jake didn't wait long before
climbing down from his stand. His father joined him, equally
shaken, and without a word, they agreed it was time to head home.
As they drove, they finally spoke, piercing together their
shared experience and connecting it to the mysterious sounds from
the week before. Both Jake and son knew they'd
witnessed something beyond explanation, something whispered
of legends and wild stories they had only half believed In.
Later years, Jake would recall how that day changed his view of
the forest. The sight of the massive,
powerful creature with reddish brown fur and a stature
reminiscent of the famed Patterson Gimlin film left an
imprint that would last a lifetime.
Yeah, that would really be an oppressive sighting out there.
Bow hunting and seeing this saying.
Really amazing. Let's take a look at this next
one. The summer of 1976 was marked by
long, lazy days for five young brothers in Clark County,
Kentucky. Their home, nestled between
Winchester and Richmond near the Boonboro River, was surrounded
by woods that promised endless adventure.
That day had been no exception. The sun hung golden in the sky,
casting dappled light through the trees as the boys roamed the
wooded hillsides near Elkin Station Road, playing games and
exploring every nook. Jay, the oldest at 12, had just
ridden his bike down a steep makeshift path with no brakes to
slow him, the bike careering. The bike careened over rocks,
sending him tumbling over the handlebars and a dramatic spill
that left the younger boys wide eyed.
They laughed, dusting themselves off and re enacting scenes from
their pretend games of Cowboys and Indians.
As the day edged toward evening, the warm summer air began to
cool. The light shifted, casting long
shadows through the trees. One by one, the boys drifted
back toward home, the enchantment of the day drawing
to a close. Dee, who was six, lingered
behind. In the summer of 1994, the
afternoons were filled with warmth and the endless promise
of adventure. Arbor Glenn Estates in Richwood,
KY, was a new development back then, and the house, nestled at
the back of the subdivision had a perfect view of the woods.
It was a quiet, sunny day when I stepped out into the backyard
with Charlie, my little dog, padding along beside me.
The sun filtered through the leaves, casting gentle, dappled
shadows on the grass. The air was still, broken only
by the distant hum of cicadas. Charlie, always eager and
curious, trotted along as I held her leash loosely, my gaze
wandering over the trees that lined the fence at the edge of
our property. The small Creek beyond the fence
shimmered, catching slivers of sunlight as it meandered through
the woods. It all seemed peaceful until
Charlie's demeanor changed in an instant.
She stopped abruptly. Her body tensed, and a low,
wearing growl rumbled in her chest.
I followed her gaze, and my heart lurched.
There, only 50 feet away and just beyond the fence, stood a
creature unlike anything I'd ever seen.
It was tall, towering well over six feet, and covered an off
white hair that hung an uneven shaggy Tufts, some strands
swaying slightly as it shifted. Its face struck me.
It was neither ape nor man, but a peculiar blend of the two with
features that were both familiar and alien.
Dark, deep set eyes stared back at me, unblinking and
inscrutable. We stood like that, locked in an
unmoving standoff. I felt the leash tighten in my
grip as my knuckles whitened, every muscle in my body poised
between flight and paralysis. The creature seemed as curious
as I was fearful. It moved, almost imperceptible,
and in that moment I knew it was real, not some figment of my
imagination or a prank. After what felt like an
eternity, but must have been mere minutes, it turned, the
powerful muscles beneath his hair shifting smoothly as it
moved. With long, deliberate strides,
it disappeared into the tree line, leaving behind only
silence. Heart pounding, I gathered
Charlie, who still trembled and sprinted for the house.
Breathless, I glanced back just as I reached the door.
The clearing was empty, the woods now holding their secrets
tightly. That night, long after the sun
dipped below the horizon, I lay in bed, replaying the encounter.
I overheard my father speaking to my mother in hushed tones.
He, too, had seen something on Shady Lane and Crittenden, near
a Creek bed where old trash piled up and nature reclaimed
his space. His description mirrored mine, a
tall, off white creature moving through the trees as if it
belonged there, elusive and powerful.
Even as years passed and memories soften the edges, the
image of that summer day never faded.
We had seen the same creature, my father and I, separated only
by time and place, but connected by the mystery of that off white
figure in the Kentucky woods. That's pretty cool.
Father, son, experience. It was late November and 2021,
and the chill of fall was settling over Anderson County,
Kentucky. The dense wooded expanses that
stretched around Taylorville Lake was alive with a quiet
rustle of leaves and a crispness of an overcast afternoon.
Robert, a season hunter with 25 years of experience, set perched
in his deer stand, his breath visible in the cool air.
The Seminar Creek bottom sprawled out before him, flanked
by towering trees and rough terrain.
He had haunted this land for years.
The woods and Creek is sanctuary.
But on this day, something felt different.
The hour neared to 5:00 PM, and the muted sky cast shadows
across the forest floor. The silence was broken by a
sudden musky odor, sharp and pungent, like sewage creeping
through the air. It was a smell Robert had
encountered before, one that set his instincts on edge.
The faint sound of leaves crunching followed, coming from
behind him. He turned cautiously, shifting
in the high seat of his stand, eyes searching the forest that
he saw it. On the other side of the Creek,
roughly 60 yards away, a massive figure moved through the
underbrush, its stride steady and deliberate.
It stood upright, walking briskly on two legs, its dark
brown hair swaying with each step.
Robert's heart thudded as he took in the sheer size of the
creature, easily 7 1/2 to 8 feet tall, it's frame broad and
powerful. The long arms swung naturally at
his sides, moving in a counter balancing rhythm.
For a moment the creature stood, turned its head, it's gaze
locking with Roberts. A chill ran down his spine.
Though the setting sun behind the figure obscured its facial
features, there was no mistaking its awareness.
Robert felt instinctive, primal fear, A rush of adrenaline
urging him to flee. The creature's movement was
smooth, purple sole as it continued along the Creek and
disappeared into the thick woods.
Robert gripped the edge of his stand, breath of shallow pulse
racing. He watched until there was no
sign left, only the unsettling silence and the lingering scent.
Seconds later, he gathered himself, climbed down, and
headed back to the safety of his home.
As he made his way across the rough ground, the force pressed
in on him with an eerie stillness.
It wasn't the first time Robert had encountered the creature.
Two years earlier, seated in the same deer stand at the same time
of year, he glimpsed a similar figure, initially dismissing it
as a person in a gully suit. This time, there was no doubt.
Days later, Charlie Raymond, a Bigfoot researcher, visited the
property to investigate. Robert recounted every detail,
his story unwavering. Together they navigated the
dense woods, the brittle leaves crackling beneath their boots.
Near the Creek, Charlie found a wheel trodden game trail,
evidence of an animal traffic. He noticed a coyote lying not
far from where Robert saw the creature, its leg twisted
unnaturally, as if broken by immense force.
It was a grim discovery that added an edge of mystery to the
encounter. Though no tracks could be found
on the thick layer of leaves, the signs, the airy smell, the
disturbed wildlife, the white trail left a lingering question.
Robert would never look at the woods the same way again.
He hadn't returned to that deer site since that day, leaving it
to the secrets of the forest and the creatures locals called
Howdy. Oh boy, how you doing there?
Howdy huh? Very, very weird stuff.
And this poor coyote man getting busted up like that.
You got to wonder what is going on with these things.
Take a look at a couple more here before you wrap this up.
It was a Chris November night in 1996, and the chill in the air
clung to the riverbanks of Union County, Kentucky.
The Ohio River flowed with its quiet power, shadowed by dense,
dark woods and the occasional sound of water lapping against
the banks. The dike below the Uniontown Dam
stood in stark contrast to the vast openness of the river,
edged with untamed force that seemed alive with whispers and
the occasional rustle. The night sky, clear and
speckled with stars, cast its dim light over the river and the
surrounding land. Moonlight shimmered, lending an
eerie glow to the scene. It was around one or two in the
morning when Robert's mother sat waiting in their truck, parked
near the river edge with his headlights off.
The truck was a lifeline, a beacon of safety as she waited
for her husband and son, who worked as commercial fisherman
and had been out on the river all evening.
The sound of the river was constant, a quiet backdrop
punctuated by the occasional Creek of trees and the hum of
distant wildlife. But then something shifted.
A heavy, rhythmic rustling came from the woods to her left.
The calm night air felt suddenly fragile as a figure emerged from
the darkness, stepping onto the road just 50 feet in front of
the truck. The creature moved with a
deliberate pace, it's silhouette illuminated in the pale
moonlight. It stood impossibly tall, at
least eight, perhaps 9 or even 10 feet tall.
The breadth of its shoulders was immense, tapering down to a
narrow waist. Its head, shaped like that of a
gorilla, seemed to sit directly on its shoulders.
Without a discernible neck. The body was covered with thick,
shaggy hair that hung down its long arms, reaching nearly to
its knees. It paused momentarily, turning
its head and casting a look in her direction.
Though its eyes were obscured by the darkness.
The moment seemed to stretch into an eternity as she stared,
frozen with a mix of awe and fear.
The creatures movements were unhurried, almost calm as it
crossed the road and disappeared into the tree line that bordered
the river. The silence that followed was
deafening. She snapped out of her trance,
fingers trembling as she rolled up the windows and locked the
doors. With a shaking hand, she turned
on the truck's headlights, piercing the night with beams of
sudden artificial light. But the road was empty now.
The creature was gone. When Robert and his father
returned, they found her pale eyes wide with fright.
She relayed what she had seen, her voice barely steady after
that night. She refused to pick them up
without a gun in the truck. In the weeks that followed,
Robert and his father continued to fish in the same area.
On more than one occasion they worked the quiet riverbanks
under the cover of night. They heard a deep, deliberate
sounds, heavy foot falls splashing through the four foot
deep water in a chute where they finished, logs cracked under
immense weight. There are sharp reports echoing
in the distance. These noises were unlike
anything they had ever heard. No deer or known animal could
cause such commotion. The river bottoms and the thick
hardwood forest nearby held their secrets, but Robert and
his family now knew they weren't the only ones navigating its
shadowy deaths. Pretty wild out there fishing in
the middle of night like that. Knowing these things are out
there walking around, maybe doing some fishing of their own.
We'll do one last one here and finish it up.
This last story tells us it was a quiet, balmy night in late
June 2017 at the Land Between the Lakes National Forest and
Kentucky. The darkness of the early
morning hours draped the Hillman Ferry Campground like a thick
blanket, concealing secrets within its deep woods.
Retired marine and experienced outdoorsman Mark had chosen the
most secluded campsite he could find, 843, nestled far from the
usual crowds and surrounded by trees that whispered in the
wind. The camp was silent except for
the gentle rustling of leaves and the occasional chirp of a
distant bird. Around 4:00 AM, Mark awoke with
a sudden start. Beside him, his wife stirred,
eyes wide with unease. She whispered, barely audible,
that she was scared. Mark, seasoned in countless
wilderness settings, felt a prickle of concern.
He listened intently, expecting the typical sounds of nocturnal
wildlife. Then it began.
The eerie course erupted. 5 or 6 owls hooted in quick succession,
their calls overlapping and frantic melody.
Coyotes joined in, howling as if in response to an unseen
conductor. Birds awoke, their songs loud
and jarring in their pre dawn stillness.
The cacophony lasted 30 seconds. Then silence fell as swiftly as
it had come. Mark's pulse quickened.
The woods were never so synchronized, so abruptly quiet.
The hare on his neck stood up as a new sound reached them.
Heavy, deliberate footsteps. Clump, clump, clump.
The branches snapped. Underbrush crackled.
A large, bipedal figure was approached.
Mark's mind raced. No human would be out here at
this hour, not stopping through dense forests and a place where
firearms were common and the train unforgiving.
He coughed loudly, a warning. The footsteps didn't falter.
Adrenaline searched through him. He slipped out of the tent, the
cool air biting his bare skin with a knife clamped between his
teeth. He rummaged through the truck
for a flashlight, heart thundering.
Finally, he found it, switched it on, and swept the beam across
the tree line. The sound stopped, swallowed by
the silent woods. Mark's breath was ragged as he
climbed into the truck and started the engine.
The high beams pierced the darkness, illuminating the edge
of the woods but revealing nothing.
He cut the lights, exhaled, and turned back toward the tent.
Just then, the forest exploded with noise.
Boom, boom, boom. Whatever it was bolted away,
trees shuddering and branches breaking in its wake.
It exhaled with guttural force, a sound somewhere between a wild
boar's grunt and a human sigh. The silence that followed was
deafening. Mark's wife stood near the tent,
eyes locked on the trees. Neither spoke as they packed up
their gear in frantic silence, shoving belongings into the car.
Dawn began to seep into the sky as they surveyed the area one
last time. Broken branches 5 to 6 feet high
marked where the creature had moved, and slide marks scarred
the earth as though something massive had skidded to a halt.
They left the campground, the weight of the encounter pressing
heavily on them before departing the area completely.
They spoke with a volunteer camper who listened and then
smiled annoyingly. Well.
He said with a casual laugh. They do say strange things
happen up here sometimes. As they drove away, Mark glanced
back at the woods one last time, the rising sun casting pale
light over the trees that stood silent once more, hiding
whatever mysteries they held. Well, what an encounter out
there with his wife, camping in this remote location.
This thing shows up well. I hope you've enjoyed the
stories today. Don't forget to hit the like
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Until next time, this is UFO MORNING over and out.