Around 2012, a native villager and his hunting partner portaged their skiff across an ice-overflow gravel ridge into Henry Slough, a specialized secondary channel of the Nushagak River located just south of New Stuyahok. Spotting a bull moose over a mud-and-grass cutbank, the men anchored the skiff using a concrete stake and initiated a silent layout stalk through the alders. While tracking the antlers, an interactive clacking sound erupted from multiple directions, which they mistook for a competing bull. Taking a defensive position, a sudden physical presence focused their attention; a fresh bull moose walked directly into a 25-yard clearing, frozen in a state of shared curiosity while staring intently toward a thick alder grove.
The villager dispatched the moose, dropping it instantly. While smoking a cigarette to let the carcass relax before quartering it with folding knives, a deep, resonant grunt—resembling an aggrieved bull rising from its bed—boomed from the brush. Moving closer to investigate a potential bear threat, the lead hunter maxed his rifle scope's zoom, capturing a point-blank flash of a humanlike face with an ashen-gray complexion, wide jaw, flat nose, black hair, and an orangutan-orange colored crown. Suddenly, an ear-piercing, multi-octave shriek exploded from the thicket, accompanied by a heavy bipedal crashing sound that resembled a bulldozer operating in high gear.
The terrified hunters tactical-retreated 60 yards down the mud bank to reach their skiff. Looking up from the bow, the harvested moose carcass had been cleanly dragged into the willows; upon inspecting the remains, the animal's entire front leg had been violently ripped and plucked cleanly from the shoulder joint without a single knife score. Suddenly, a heavy bipedal thrashing zig-zagged toward them; as the villager struggled to chamber a round, a colossal, 12-foot-tall entity rose fully from the alders just 20 feet away, casting a challenging, menacing look down at them before they executed a high-speed skiff getaway.
