While navigating the Nushagak River near Henry Slough (just south of New Stuyahok) roughly ten years ago, two hunters portaged their skiff into a narrow, muddy backchannel to scout for moose. After successfully dropping a massive bull with a single shot from the bank, the hunters sat down for a celebratory cigarette before the grueling task of field dressing it. Their break was interrupted by a deep, guttural grunt echoing from the nearby willows. Believing it was a second, agitated bull moose, the hunters crept closer, hoping to drop a second animal and save themselves an extra trip.
As they closed in, the men spotted movement in the alders—but no antlers. Peering through his scope, one of the hunters was startled to see an ashen-gray face with an orangutan-like, orange-brown coloration and a solid black, pupil-less eye staring back at him. Backing away in shock, the men were suddenly hit by an ear-piercing, ground-shaking scream, followed by the sound of something thrashing through the brush like a bulldozer. Retreating to the safety of the slough bank to reassess, they were horrified to discover that their dead bull moose had already vanished.
Scrambling back up the bank, they followed a fresh drag mark straight into the willows, only to find the 1,000-pound moose carcass with one of its massive front legs violently torn—not cut—clean out of its socket. As they stared at the mangled carcass in disbelief, a 12-foot-tall, towering entity suddenly stood up to its full height from the alders barely 20 feet away. The creature glared down at the hunters with an expression of pure, menacing dominance. Fumbling with their bolt-action rifles, the terrified men abandoned their kill, scrambled back into their skiff, and sped down the slough, barely escaping back to the main channel of the river.
