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Via Joe:
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Monster Inc.

Nighttime field trips, gripping testimonials, scientific seminars: In East
Texas, the hunt for Bigfoot is serious business.

Katy Vine, Reporter

IT WASN?T AS IF DARYL COLYER?S encounter with Bigfoot in May 2004 was a chance
meeting. The gym-fit 44-year-old banker from Lorena had actively gone looking
for the creature one Saturday evening along the banks of the Trinity River,
where he?d heard that a seven-foot-tall apelike being had been seen wandering a
few months before. He?d even talked his beautiful brunette wife, Dalinda, into
going with him, and the two had set out together toward a stretch of the river
sixty miles northeast of Houston. But he still wasn?t prepared for what he saw
that day.

For Daryl, who until this past August volunteered regularly as an investigator
for an international cybergroup known as the Bigfoot Field Researchers
Organization (BFRO), the expedition was nothing out of the ordinary. As one of
the few Texas members of the group, he?d gone on many of these searches in the
previous year, following up on reported Bigfoot sightings in the Texas-Oklahoma
area. He enjoyed it; he?d been fascinated with the idea of Bigfoot for as long
as he could remember. As a boy in Atlanta, in the Piney Woods of East Texas,
he?d heard stories about the thing his father called the Burton Bottom Creek
Monster. He had listened to tales of an animal that shadowed locals in the
woods, one that screamed like a woman and made the hair on your arm straighten
like toothpicks. And although he?d left the state in 1985 to become an
intelligence analyst for the Air Force, these memories had never strayed far
from his mind. When he returned to Texas, in 1990, his interest was rekindled,
and a few years later, he sat down and Googled ?Bigfoot.? ?I wanted to solve a
mystery for myself,? he explains. ?I wasn?t going to be an armchair skeptic.?

But since joining the BFRO, in mid-2003, Daryl hadn?t seen Bigfoot himself. He
had spent many hours poring over Bigfoot stories, though; he didn?t want to be
caught unprepared. So when he and Dalinda spotted a trail by the riverside that
matched the description from one of the BFRO?s sighting reports, he felt his
usual tinge of excitement. He pulled over. The sun was setting along the
tree-lined path, which ran parallel to the river about fifty yards below. He
hurried down it while Dalinda tagged along some thirty yards behind, her high
heels no match for the mud. The path gradually curved to the left, and Daryl
disappeared. Dalinda bent over, focusing on something that had slithered across
her foot.

And suddenly, there it was, on the trail: A reddish-brown, hairy thing, about
five and a half feet tall. Daryl froze as he watched it hop across the path
once, then twice, before disappearing into the woods. He stared into the trees.

?Did you see that?? he hollered.

Dalinda looked up from her feet. ?See what??

THESE DAYS, THANKS TO THE INTERNET, Daryl Colyer hasn?t had any trouble finding
others who?ve met Bigfoot. Craig Woolheater, for example. The 45-year-old office
manager from Dallas came across a seven-foot-tall gray-haired creature on the
side of the road in Louisiana when he was driving home from a trip in 1994. The
vision so inspired him that in 1999 he founded the Texas Bigfoot Research Center
(TBRC), a volunteer-run, self-funded organization dedicated to finding the Lone
Star State?s Sasquatch. This closer-to-home version of the BFRO soon caught
Colyer?s attention, and after taking on a field expedition for Woolheater in
January 2004, he decided he?d work for the TBRC in addition to his regular
Bigfoot-hunting gig. A brotherhood was formed, and the two men talk on the phone
almost daily, discussing new scientific findings and the anecdotes posted on the
group?s Web site, texasbigfoot.com.

Their work is far from boring. Due in part to the TBRC?s efforts, interest in
Bigfoot has taken hold in the state, particularly in East Texas, which has the
dense woods and plentiful waterways said to be the habitat of choice for this
mysterious species. According to Woolheater, there have been about 150 credible
sightings each year since he started fielding reports in 2000; investigators
believe that there are in fact many Bigfoots populating the area. Nearly every
day the center?s thirtysome members communicate via e-mail or phone on some
Bigfoot-related subject (what was that strange sound heard recently in the Piney
Woods? A whoop? Or more of a chatter? How tall was the creature in that last
sighting? What color hair? Any good new devices to use in the woods?). And every
fall, Woolheater spearheads a pivotal event for Sasquatch fans everywhere: the
TBRC?s Bigfoot conference, held in the East Texas town of Jefferson.

The convention, now in its fifth year, has grown steadily since its September
2001 inception. That year 150 visitors descended on the town (a good thing,
since Woolheater, then a recently unemployed software developer, had sunk $2,000
of his own cash into the project); by 2004 attendance was up to 334. At this
year?s conference, which will take place October 14?16 in the commons area of
Jefferson High School, Colyer and Woolheater expect to see 400 people. The list
of guest speakers they?ve drawn up includes Chris Murphy, the author of Meet the
Sasquatch; Jeffrey Meldrum, the author of From Biped to Strider: The Emergence
of Modern Human Walking, Running, and Resource Transport; and Loren Coleman, the
author of both Bigfoot! The True Story of Apes in America and The Field Guide to
Bigfoot, Yeti, and Other Mystery Primates Worldwide. Speakers? titles range from
associate professor of anatomy and anthropology at Idaho State University to
president of the Masonic Stamp Club of New York. Colyer himself will be teaching
a seminar called ?Sasquatch 101: A Primer for the Uninitiated.? A Bigfoot Bayou
Boogie concert, complete with a performance by an enthusiast who also happens to
be an Elvis impersonator, will round out the events.

For Jefferson, the convention is a huge boon, a way to fill up its hotels and
restaurants. For the members of the TBRC, which does not yet have a central
office, it?s an opportunity to meet and greet and feel out the area for a
potentially permanent location. Not that they take it easy the rest of the year.
Their mission, as stated on the TBRC Web site, is ?to validate what we believe
to be an undocumented species of bipedal, nocturnal primate commonly referred to
as Bigfoot or Sasquatch.? And that means following up each day on every
testimonial they receive.

Bigfoot investigators will make clear (once, then again and again) that the
object of their fascination is not a monster but a species of primate. It seldom
breaks into farmhouses, beating its chest and tossing furniture, as you might
imagine from seeing horror movies. More often, reports set the creature in
pastoral scenes worthy of a Jean-Fran?ois Millet painting. If it?s not shucking
corn, it?s squatting next to fences or hanging out on the side of the road like
a lost dog. Motorists write in. Hunters write in. Law enforcement officers write
in. And they all say basically the same thing: A smelly, hairy ape between five
and seven feet tall is hiding out here in East Texas. Woolheater, who runs the
Web site, takes the information down and either follows up with an interview
himself or delegates to one of his twelve volunteer investigators, who make
calls over the phone or in person many weekends out of the year. Colyer alone
has investigated reports from more than a hundred folks who have written in to
the Web site, although his experience has taught him to proceed with caution:
Eight of ten accounts end in disappointment. Even after eliminating obvious
misidentifications, there are still pranksters, and he regularly braces himself
for the moment when a father takes the phone to apologize on behalf of his
enthusiastic, Web-savvy son. Which makes the TBRC investigator?s work difficult
indeed.

Woolheater and Colyer believe wholeheartedly in Bigfoot. They are not
embarrassed by their conviction. Woolheater freely relates Sasquatch anecdotes
he has heard to anyone who asks and nods unhesitatingly when people ask if he?s
?the Bigfoot guy.? Colyer is the same way. His business card, which he eagerly
distributes, features an ape?s face sleepily peering out through a cutout form
of the state of Texas. He is as persistent as a Jehovah?s Witness and as
enthusiastic as an Aggie, happy to reproduce Bigfoot ?whoop? calls in public
places. He might take a minute to gain his composure when others make cracks
about Harry and the Hendersons, but he rarely loses his temper. Rather, he?ll
laugh nervously, his leg twitching. And then, before any other monster jokes are
introduced into conversation, he will compare his research to hunts for other
elusive greats, such as the giant squid or the coelacanth. ?We know it sounds
incredible,? he?ll say. ?But we think we know where they are. We think we?ve got
the zoological find of the century right here at our fingertips.?

One day recently, I met the two researchers at a plantation-style
bed-and-breakfast in Jefferson. They were checking out accommodations for the
upcoming convention, discussing the logistics of the Bayou Boogie concert.
Immediately they launched into a discussion about Bigfoot. ?You get reports of
something rifling through backpacks,? said Woolheater, ?of people watching TV
who look out the window and see an apelike face looking in.

?It?s not faith like religion,? he continued. ?Seeing is believing. Daryl was
skeptical until he saw it himself.?

Colyer nodded. ?I?m still skeptical of every report,? he said. ?But you can?t
argue with the fact that something is out there.?

?We are dealing with a nocturnal, bipedal primate,? Woolheater said. ?Something
that follows the rivers in these twelve million acres of East Texas forestry.?
Colyer estimates that there may be fifty to a hundred living in Texas, two
thousand nationwide.

?It took more than fifty full-time workers a year to find the ivory-billed
woodpecker,? Woolheater said. ?They were well funded. We?re not.?

While they were talking, a woman they had met at breakfast walked into the room.

?She?s from Texarkana, and she has heard stories about Bigfoot all her life,?
Colyer said.

?All my life,? the woman replied with a smile.

You get the uneasy feeling from walking around with Woolheater and Colyer that
everyone has seen Bigfoot except you.

STORIES ABOUT BIGFOOT ARE NOT NEW TO TEXAS. An encounter with a hairy creature
was documented as early as 1924, in Legends of Texas, published by the Texas
Folklore Society. But the documentation seems to have stepped up in more-recent
decades. Dwaine Dennis, a now-retired 81-year-old, was the owner of the
Jefferson Jimplecute newspaper back in 1965 when a big-eared thirteen-year-old
boy named Johnny Maples stirred up Marion County with tales of a seven-foot-tall
ape. (Dennis?s original report has been lost, but the Marshall News Messenger
picked up the story and gave it the headline ?Boy Says For Real Sighting of
Monster Renews Marion Legend.?) Colyer and Woolheater are both familiar with the
story, and the TBRC has had contact with Dennis before by phone; his account is
recorded on the center?s Web site. But in August, thinking he might make a good
speaker for a future conference, Colyer and Woolheater decided to pay Dennis a
personal visit.

Dennis did not seem completely sold on the idea of Bigfoot. But he did like to
tell stories. Sitting in his Lay-Z-Boy recliner, surrounded by wood sculptures
he had made over the years, he was all too happy to relate the tale while his
wife, Virginia, interjected once in a while as she unpacked groceries in the
kitchen. ?I heard that this boy was scared the night before by a monster,? he
explained. ?I looked him up. I talked to him, and he was still shaking. He said
he heard a noise in the trees.?

?Sounds familiar,? said Colyer, leaning in.

?He ran so fast,? Dennis continued. ?His mom said he tore the soles of his shoes
off.?

Virginia spoke up from the kitchen. ?He looked all over for those soles on the
road. A true newspaperman.?

?I wanted to break the news, so I didn?t tell anyone about it at first. He saw
something.? Here Dennis raised an eyebrow and smiled. ?Virginia and I went to
Scott?s Creek Bridge, where Johnny said he saw the creature. I went down there
and saw lots of snakes, and I also saw two footprints. The next day we happened
to be at a cemetery nearby. At the entrance we saw a fantastic footprint with
five claw marks. I put some salt in it to make it out more clearly. We also saw
a pear tree with limbs up about eight feet off the ground that had teeth marks
in the fruit.?

?Here we go,? said Colyer.

?Well, the story I wrote created quite a sensation,? Dennis said. ?Everybody
went down to the creek to check it out. The fun lasted two or three weeks.
People came down every weekend to look for the monster.?

?I found a headline that read ?Town Fed Up With Monster Hunters,?? said
Woolheater. ?I think it said there were throngs of people looking for Bigfoot
here.?

?I don?t know about ?throngs,?? Dennis said with a laugh. ?How many make up a
throng??

The exchange was not unusual for a TBRC investigator, although, according to
Colyer, these meetings are sometimes traumatic for the person giving his
testimonial. He?s seen grown men shake and cry while describing their
encounters. ?These sightings are life-changing experiences,? Colyer said. ?It?s
cathartic for people to get this information off their chests.?

Spurred on by Dennis? story, Colyer and Woolheater decided to check out the
areas where Dennis had found the footprints and the bitten pear. Although recent
activity seems to be coming more from a wooded area farther south of Jefferson,
in the Sam Houston National Forest area, they were confident that Jefferson was
still the perfect location for their conference. Dennis?s account and a few
others they?d heard had connected the Caddo Lake region historically to Bigfoot.
When they pulled up to Scott?s Creek Bridge, the brush had been cleared on the
side of the road, and the rickety old wooden bridge had been replaced by a solid
cement one. But just as before, it passed over a creek that quickly tucked
itself away in a thick mass of pines. Colyer stood on the bridge and peered into
the woods, pointing a finger. ?This is like so many other spots where people
have had sightings,? he said. ?It?s on a watercourse. It?s remotely populated.
It?s perfect.?

They moved on to the cemetery. Woolheater and Colyer couldn?t find any trace of
a pear tree but searched the area anyway, looking at the ground and into the
trees for recent signs of a large animal. ?If you want to get struck by
lightning, you can?t go outside on a sunny day,? Colyer said. ?There may be only
two thousand of these animals. I?ve spent time in the woods where black bear
live, and I?ve never seen a black bear.?

?It?s a one-hundred-and-twenty-to-one shot,? Woolheater said. ?You?ve got to
find them, but they?re always moving. And now we?re in that lightning-strike
area.? At this, he spotted an imprint on the ground and sized it up against his
shoe.

ANYONE WHO WONDERS HOW THE TOWN OF JEFFERSON feels about the attention from
Bigfoot conferencegoers might remember that ?creature? lore has good footing in
these swamps. Locals will quickly brag that both the films The Creature From
Black Lake and The Legend of Boggy Creek were shot nearby. Along the historic
strip in town, tiny stickers in the windows of establishments display their
support??Warning: Protected by a Texas Bigfoot.?

Which is not to say that everyone warmly embraces the idea of Jefferson as a
home for Bigfoot lovers. Many of the natives would rather have the focus on
their town?s history, not on ghosts or monsters, and Bigfoot is not a subheading
under ?zoology.? ?Well, why has no one found a body?? they?ll ask.

Woolheater and Colyer are receptive to skeptics? criticisms. ?There is no fossil
record of higher-order primates in North America,? Colyer acknowledged.

?And we?re trying to find something that is not common or identifiable,? said
Woolheater.

The two grew excited as they talked, interrupting each other.

?We understand that?s freaky to a lot of people, but the fact remains??

?Thousands of people have these stories!?

?Thousands!?

?And there?s only a couple of possibilities as to why that is happening. Either
they?re lying to you??

?Or they?re misidentifying a known animal.?

?So either they?re hallucinating,? continued Woolheater, ?or they saw what they
saw. Even if one of these people is telling the truth, then something is out
there.?

?And both of us are telling the truth,? said Colyer.

Some members of the community shrug and say they?re keeping an open mind?for
good reason. At lunch at Lamache?s Italian Restaurant recently, Woolheater and
Colyer schmoozed with the Jefferson director of tourism development, Juanita
Wakefield-Chitwood. An animated woman with short, frosted hair,
Wakefield-Chitwood is tied to Jefferson going back several generations, so she
speaks with authority when she boasts, ?Here in Jefferson we have eccentric
people and we attract eccentric people.?

?I heard the city is officially labeling October 14 through 16 ?Bigfoot Weekend?
in Jefferson!? Woolheater said.

?That?s right,? Wakefield-Chitwood said. ?This conference is huge. I remember
the first conference. I was working at the hotel where one of the speakers
stayed. He gave me a personal lecture.? She belted out a laugh. Seeing that the
others weren?t as amused, she soberly nodded. ?It was very interesting.?

?I?d like to have a main town where we can set up a research center,? Woolheater
said.

Wakefield-Chitwood pointed to herself.

Colyer piped up. ?We were talking about having it here.?

?I?ll take care of that,? Wakefield-Chitwood said with a smile.

?It?s a matter of funding,? Woolheater said. But he continued to warm her up.
?We?re going to bring the Travel Channel out to Caddo Lake this fall; we?ll take
them into Jefferson.?

?This is why we embrace Bigfoot,? she said. ?The conference is an education. The
coverage is good! The economic impact is good!?

Woolheater looked up sheepishly. ?You know, I got a call recently from Athens.
The head of tourism said she wanted me to move the convention there.?

Rubbing her hands together playfully, Wakefield-Chitwood said, ?Can you give me
this woman?s name??

OF COURSE, SUPPORT IS NICE. But in the end, it means little to the faithful,
whose determination to find Bigfoot is unflagging. They don?t wait for grants;
they are comfortable taking the research responsibilities into their own hands.
Almost every weekend Colyer and two others follow up on reports of sightings.
And about three times a year six to ten TBRC field investigators go on a
four-day-long ?field study? and record their findings.

The thrill of these studies cannot be overstated. Imagine Ahab seeking Moby
Dick. Usually, the group heads to a remote location in the Piney Woods where the
creature has been spotted by someone in the TBRC Web circle. (To elude
pranksters, locations of the studies are kept top secret.) During the day, the
group looks for tracks, hair, scat, and ?nestlike areas.? They set up camp. They
sleep. And when the sun sets, they gear up. Smearing themselves in scent
blocker, dressed in camouflage, they split up into groups of two or three with
devices that would make the most die-hard Cabela?s devotee turn to Jell-O: night
vision goggles, NightShot cameras, a call blaster that emits gibbon sounds,
plaster for footprint casts, a video recorder, a minidisc recorder, bionic ears,
walkie-talkies, and boom microphones. They also bring along special ?pheromone
chips? designed to entice the ape.

What the investigators report is mixed. Sometimes they go for days without
hearing or seeing anything but the woods. Other times, they say, an animal they
believe to be Bigfoot tries to intimidate them, grunting and screaming and
snapping twigs. Some nights it seems more cooperative. ?On a field study last
year,? Colyer said, ?I was with one other guy. We waited for the sun to go down
in San Jacinto County. Around seven-thirty, we blasted three yells. I stood up,
and the creature returned an aggressive call from within a hundred yards. It was
so close! I thought I was going to have to get my weapon. But then we didn?t
hear anything the rest of the night.?

All the pheromone chips and call blasters in the world don?t seem to be luring
Sasquatch out of hiding. In the six weekend investigations held over the past
two years, the TBRC has recorded three good ?vocalizations? and made plaster
casts of six footprints. They don?t intend to ever shoot a Bigfoot if they find
one, but right now they haven?t even gotten close enough to have the option.
?We?ll get it on video,? Colyer said.

?I?ve devoted a lot of time to this,? said Woolheater. ?Even good video wouldn?t
be the final piece of the puzzle. If someone got a live specimen, I think I?d
finally be vindicated. The ultimate proof is going to come.?

BEFORE I LEFT JEFFERSON, Woolheater took me down to a pier on Caddo Lake, a
swampy area where the Spanish moss hangs down in thick curtains. ?It always
follows the waterways,? Woolheater said. It was about eleven-thirty at night,
and the toads? rickit croaks swelled to compete with the cicadas? strident
drone. Everything that had been asleep was now awake, and everything that had
been awake was asleep. It was a different world, one that made you jump at every
twig?s snap. We walked out onto the dark pier, where tree roots protruded like
fingers along the lake bed. All we saw that night were lily pads and black water
and woods and shadows. But a Bigfoot hunter is never disappointed. On the way
home, Woolheater turned on his brights and leaned forward in his seat, keeping
his eyes on the side of the road.


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