Bigfoot's Bizarre Cousin Sighted in Michigan

Early on a mid-summer morning, the air fragrant with the scent of lush greenery and flowers, my brother and I were at the edge of a large, uncultivated field covered in thick overgrowth. In front of us was a stand of tall reed-like pigweed that grew up to seven feet high. The rough, pithy stems of the plants grew very close together, not more than two or three inches apart, and formed a dense thicket that stretched for perhaps a quarter-mile ahead of us. There were only a few trails through the thicket leading to the wood-lined meadowlands beyond.

We stood on a mowed clearing that served as a fire-break between the overgrown field and the housing tract where we lived. As we were about to head for one of the trails, we heard something or someone forcing its way through the thicket, smashing through the pigweed. It was making guttural noises almost as if muttering under its breath, disgruntled from having to force its way through the raspy barrier of stems. In fact, I mentally pictured an old farmhand in overalls tramping through the overgrowth. We paused because it seemed to be headed directly towards us.

It was thrashing the weeds vigorously, snapping the pithy stems and stomping the ground as it thrust its way forward. We instinctively froze in our tracks.

Suddenly it reached the abrupt end of the thicket, and stopped in surprise at the clearing which it didn't see until the very last moment. We were directly in its path.

The bizarre creature that suddenly appeared before us had thrust his large head forward of his thickset, furry body, and we could clearly see the surprise and amazement on his face. He looked like a cross between a baboon and a gorilla, with grayish black skin on his face and reddish-tan fur on his whole body. He gazed at us incredulously with his huge, reddish-amber eyes. He seemed to be about four-and-a-half to five feet tall and stood on two legs. He had long, burly arms, and the skin on his palms was the same grayish-black.