In the summer of 2003, a university biology student named Roger participated in a salmon-fry field study along the Nuyakuk River drainage, a component of the Nushagak River system. Dropped off alone on a remote riverbank roughly three miles below the Nuyakuk Falls to dip-net samples out from underneath the river's cutbank, Roger experienced an intense, overwhelming sensation of being watched by 'a thousand eyes' amidst total silence and swarming mosquitoes. Moving down the shoreline trail, he heard a rapid, distinctive 'bloop' sound of small stones splashing into the channel. Moments later, a small pebble struck Roger directly in the chest. Turning toward the source, he spotted a massive, heavily obscured dark figure standing 40 yards away inside the dense tree line.
Roger retreated downriver to notify his team; the skeptical lead biologist grabbed a shotgun and motored the skiff back up to the location. Spotting the dark mass still standing perfectly motionless in the shadows, the biologist dismissed it as dead brush and marched straight toward it. However, at the halfway mark, the biologist froze, abruptly turned around, and quietly handed the shotgun back into the skiff. Just as he stepped into the boat, the entire team witnessed the dark form stand up fully and emit a terrifying, high-pitched 'whistling scream' that sounded like a woman being murdered blended with a whistle, before it turned and disappeared into the timber. The party retreated 30 miles downriver to their primary salmon-counting tower base camp.
Early the next morning, while Roger washed cookware at the river's edge, small stones began splashing around him again, and he located the exact same massive silhouette hunched just inside the opposite tree line 70 yards away, occasionally tossing pebbles whenever the team looked away. That evening, as Roger returned to the 4-foot cutbank to finish his chores, a rock struck him hard in the back. Armed with a camp shotgun, Roger fired a specialized crackling shell above the shadow's position. Upon detonating, the tree line erupted into a chaotic 'goulash' of deep grunts, high-pitched whistles, and pig-like squeals as the entity thrashed away. The biologists motored across the river channel to investigate, discovering a 30-foot radius circle where numerous 10-inch diameter black spruce trees and dense alders had been violently snapped off cleanly at a uniform six-foot height, along with a massive single track that the lead biologist stubbornly dismissed as a double bear print.
