| All my relatives on the Native American side of my family have knowledge about the creature which in the white man’s world is known as Bigfoot. My great, great grandfather used to tell the story of his grandfather who was part of the Osage tribe. His particular tribe lived east of what is now the Missouri southwest border. At that time the thicker part of the forest was known to be inhabited by “an elder brother” who was known to have a temper but was still considered to be a friend of the Sioux. His grandfather knew a lot about “elder brother” because according to him he stayed with them through the summer months when he was just coming into manhood. He spoke of having wondered away from their camp and got lost in the thickness of the forest. He said he fell a good distance and when he woke up he was in the home of elder brother. I’m sorry to inform those who believe that bigfoot is some sort of multi-dimensional creature that it just isn’t so. They are living, breathing creatures that get injured and at times die. There is nothing supernatural about them. However it doesn’t mean that they aren’t capable of doing some super stuff. Grandfather spoke of how they very successfully hide their numbers. Also of how they are as different from one to the other as are we; which is why there are tales of them sometimes being aggressive, defensive or downright mean. An example was given about how if you were to take any three people from the village and give them super-strength and agility. That because they were so superior that they could and would exhibit whatever their mood was on that given day. He spoke of how our tribe had been wise to decide that the “elder brother” was friend and not foe. About how much swifter, stronger and more adapt at the thick forest surroundings they were than our people. He also said there was another reason we had been smart to not wage war with them. He had seen them fight other tribes of their own kind and they were fierce and merciless. And often cannabilized their enemy. He was offered to eat some of them but was afraid what they might think of him if they saw him eating their kind. He did eat raw deer, elk and bear that summer. They are excellent at hiding. They use the trees. Going from one to another they tend to move around in fours. Seldom does more than one move at any given time but ifyou do see one you can bet there are three more around in very close vacinity. On top of that they move their tribe in same fashion. There are four to a group, four groups to a movement. If one gets in trouble the other three converge to help. If one group gets in trouble the other three converge to help. He went on to say that the untrained eye might get lucky and spot one moving but they are so adapt and so swift at their movements that even after having spent a summer with them he still was most often surprised at how many were in any given area because he was unable to spot them moving about. Some are nomadic in nature and some have distinct territories which they will defend passionately before giving up and moving on. However that said; he was witness to three big skirmishes during his time with elder brother and there were survivors after each skirmish. Astonishingly the females of the enemy were absorbed into the tribe and treated just as well as any of the other females. Pregnant females were allowed to give birth but then the baby was taken from the mother and though I never saw what happened; it is assumed they were killed. Possibly eaten. The mother was given a few days to mourn and then was mated by a male. He said he never was able to understand how they came to conclude which male got the spoils of their wars. Suffice to say they were always mated. It might come as no big surprise to find out that the females did most the hunting and all the more domestic chores. The males are more of a mystery to me because I was not accepted by them. Only the female which had for lack of better words, adopted him: kept the males from at least banishing him and most likely killing him outright. He didn’t know for certain what was the reason the female chose to adopt him but that he could see she was heavy with milk and suspected her child had been somehow killed. The first month of the summer was spent mostly just laying around, recovering from a serious head wound that left him with a nasty scar the rest of his life. It was the first skirmish when he was allowed to get up and move around. When that time came it was not a gentle occurence. He said he was jolted from a deep sleep at just before dawn. By that time he’d been with them a month so he had started picking up some of their words they used to communicate. There was some sort of danger coming. The next thing he knew he was being pushed up a tree by his adoptive mother. She made him go so high he could barely see what was going on below because there were too many limbs between him and the action on the ground. Apparently when their tribes fight the females assist in some form or fashion because the other females with young did the same thing. They dropped off their young up high and then disappeared below. Sounds told a story of extreme violence. Growls, whistles and the obvious expression of pain, severe pain, journeyed through the morning shadows, and upwards into the pine needle covered branches where he waited to see which side would win the war. The battle lasted about forty-five minutes. It was very fast by human standards. He could see three of the young bigfoot across from his location in the other trees. All looked anxious as to what they might have to climb down to see. Perhaps the thing bothering them most was the same that was on his mind. What if our side lost and the other side decided to climb up and see what was in the trees above? He had no sooner thought of that when the sound of the skirmish came to an abrupt end. There was silence in the forest. What had been an orgy of violent sounds for nearly an hour just ended like a switch had been flipped. Some of the young began to climb further up their respective tree. Grandfather said he could understand the fear but he saw no logic in bothering to climb further up. Maybe the young bigfoot could be agile enough to evade capture swinging around on those upper limbs but he knew he would only end up falling. So he waited. Suddenly a lower limb moved. Then another. The grandfather grasped a knife he always carried with him. He knew it would be the equivalent of trying to kill a large grizzly with a knife made for skinning small game. Another limb moved. Then another and now he could see the hand of whatever was climbing to him. The decision was made that the second he was able to see the face that if it was not his “mother” then he was going to use the only advantage he had over what was coming to kill him. For a short span of seconds he would be directly above the creature and that must be when he strikes, while he can use the force of falling to help increase the power of his attempt to defend himself. He hoped to be able to strike the enemy with his feet and kick-off as hard as possible and then be able to reach out and grab a limb which to hold onto: preventing a fall to his death. The seconds seemed to pass in slow motion and he prepared for his attack being poised like a mountain lion ready to pounce. Now he could see parts of the creature through the tree limbs as it kept climbing towards him. There was blood all over the hands that were grasping the tree limbs. Then he could see its face. They had won! It was his “mother’. She was bloody. Excited. Excitable. And completely shaking from what he assumed was a combination of aggression, courage and fear. He could see the fear in her eyes behind a front that screamed bloody murder. They stood in the tree looking at each other for an extended time. She slowly diffusing as the minutes passed. The sun had climbed to a point where they were now standing more in the light than in the dark as the rays had fewer pine limbs and needles to pass through to reach them than did earlier. Things went back to the way they were before the war. There were more in the travel group even though there were fewer males. The ones that had survived the conflict not only absorbed the new females but also those which were widowed. His adoptive mother was no different. She and grandfather helped to form the sixteen creatures needed to do their weird travel formation. Grandfather did his best to mimic their way of moving through the forest which he later passed on to the entire tribe. It was adopted as a much better way to traverse the thicker forested areas. The genius was clear. By only moving one at a time going tree to tree they only had one of them ever at risk at any given moment of being spotted. This meant that if they were attacked by whatever might be lying in wait; that they, the nomads, would have surprise on their side. Not only when the first three individuals come to the fourth’s aid but (if necessary) again when the remaining three groups (of the four) converge on the situation. The teirs went out one more level so that if the four groups ended up needing help that there were three more of same or similar size which would pour on the attack bringing their numbers to over fifty. Easily enough to defend against almost anything they might encounter. Much of that became clear to him the day of the war. It was of course just his guess as to how everything worked. Using the number making up his little group of nomads and then by watching the other two groups which joined the group he was in, and that was when they sent the young ones up the trees. He counted the number of young that he could see during the mass exodus to go up. Added in what he was able to see happening with the males as he made his way up the tree and that was what his final conclusion was about how the elder brothers travel through the countryside. Grandfather had a lot of time to consider but in the end was never able to know if this was a strategy unique to their leader or if all the “elder brothers” acted in same or similar fashion. In any case it was very clever. |  Native American vs Bigfoot  Bigfoot  |