These shares involve vocals or jibberish—non-scream language-like noise, chatter, and unintelligible talk from the dark timber.
Common threads are conversation-like audio without clear words. Browse these shares if you want vocalization beyond pure screams and growls.
Back in August of 1972, Paul had an encounter he shared with us from Birches off the Yukon River with a group of guys.
Former military soldiers Marcus and Davie share a terrifying experience in June of 2011 while on a fishing trip at Bristol Bay while staying at a cabin.
A share from Priscilla about her experience from the 1990s while working with a group involve in a salmon study on Lake Beverly in Wood Tik-Chik State Park. She now has a fear of the woods, so much so that she can barely go by a park without worry of a sasquatch.
Former fishing guide Brad reached out to share his experience while fly fishing with his friend Liam off the Muklung River about fifteen years ago.
Craig, a bush pilot, finally shares his experience from 1983 off the Lowithla River.
From the Copper River Valley, Patrick and Tina share their terrifying experience while hiking near their home.
Dusty shared some experiences that took place when he was younger from a remote village.
An on-site interview with Alaskan native Bill who shared his experience with us.
A few years prior to 2023, Heather and Carl flew via floatplane from Lake Hood to a remote state park cabin at Klutina Lake near the mouth of the Mahlo River, northeast of Valdez. While exploring the marshy mouth of the river for wilderness photography, they were unsettled by a long, mournful, and sorrowful howl echoing through the tall grass. That night, while sitting outside, they observed a powerful, anomalous bright light across the lake that rapidly dimmed and performed an oblong, figure-eight tracking motion up and down the beach.
Around 2013, a seasonal lodge worker named Tim took four days off to join two indigenous local friends in a 20-foot Lund skiff traveling up the Kokwok River, a tributary of the Nushagak River below Ekwok. Half a mile past a teardrop-shaped gravel bar at the river's mouth, they discovered a local subsistence gill net that had been intentionally and intricately woven through with thick tree branches and driftwood.
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.
During the historic gold rush era around 1898, an expedition consisting of six men—Austrian-German prospectors Fritz and Johann, two young greenhorn laborers from St. Louis, Missouri, and two Gwich'in Indian guides—traveled into the remote interior near the southwest slopes of the Beaver Mountains along modern-day Billy Goat Creek. After two weeks of constructing a windowless log cabin to support a multi-year gold panning operation, the two Gwich'in guides went berry picking along the mountain slopes.
In the Copper River Valley along the Edgerton Highway near Chitina and the Wrangell-St. Elias region, an elderly widow named Miss Carol experienced continuous, escalating Sasquatch harassment at her home, beginning prior to 2019 before her husband passed away. The activity initially manifested as unexplained heavy objects dropping onto her roof and evolved into complex, highly anomalous acoustic events, including what sounded like an organized, interactive conversation between an owl and a raven right outside her walls.
Since 1983, a seasoned Alaskan outdoorsman in his early 60s named Sam owned a remote recreational property intersected by a winding creek within the Juneau region. While hunting alone from an elevated moose stand overlooking a dense, 12-foot-tall jungle of alder willows, Sam heard heavy brush-thrashing approaching from his right. Assuming it was his brother playing a prank, Sam issued a short whistle; the movement immediately ceased and an identical whistle was returned from the thicket. Sam whistled twice in rapid succession, which was immediately countered by two identical whistles.
In the mid-1970s, a geology student named Alexander and his partner Carol chartered a boat to drop them off for a week-long backcountry expedition up the Nellie Juan River drainage toward Wolverine Creek at Kings Bay on the Kenai Peninsula. On their third day, following heavy storms, they paused on a river gravel bar to construct a small spike camp behind an old tree stump to shield their campfire from the heavy valley winds. While Carol cooked a pot of beans, Alexander moved 50 yards up the slough to survey rock strata.
