Maine Trapper Claims He Shot a Sasquatch in 1966

There's something about a firsthand account from an old trapper that just hits different. A video recently surfaced on YouTube featuring an 81-year-old man named Wilfrid "Wilf" Micho, who claims he shot a Sasquatch on his trapline in the winter of 1966 in the Allagash country of northern Maine. And what he found in the snow beside it, he says, broke his heart. The story is told in Wilf's own words, and the man has a way of speaking that pulls you right into the deep woods with him. He grew up in Fort Kent, Maine, right at the Canadian border, where his family had been running traplines for generations. His father, Alced Micho, worked the same stretch of river for 31 years, and his grandfather before him. By the time Wilf was seven, he could set a body-gripping trap in the dark with mittens on. By 14, he had his own rifle and was running short stretches of the line alone. The Allagash region is one of those places that doesn't get talked about enough in Sasquatch circles, but it absolutely should be. The northern Maine woods are vast, remote, and brutally cold in winter — over two million acres of spruce, fir, and tamarack cut through by rivers like the Allagash, the St. John, and the Aroostook. It's some of the least populated ground east of the Mississippi River, and historically it's been home to loggers, trappers, and paper company workers who spent months at a time completely isolated from civilization. That kind of solitude creates the perfect conditions for encounters that never make it into the newspapers. Wilf ran about 15 miles of trapline on his own by 1966, working six line cabins his father and grandfather had built along the route. He trapped beaver, muskrat, otter, fisher, and marten, checking his sets every two to four days on snowshoes. A full circuit of the line took him about three weeks. He had a wife waiting at home, pregnant with their first child, and a reputation as a respected game warden. Everything about his life that winter was ordinary, sanctioned, and exactly the kind of work three generations of Micho men had done on the same ground without incident. Then came the night he pulled the trigger. The video cuts off just as Wilf is setting up to describe what happened in detail — the discussion ends mid-sentence at "The winter of 1965 in" — so the full revelation of what he found in the snow is something you'll have to hear from him directly. But the buildup is haunting. He talks about a close call in 1961 when he broke through thin ice on a feeder stream and spent 20 minutes alone, four miles from the nearest cabin, fighting to get back onto solid footing. He says he carried that lesson with him every season after — that this country could kill him on any given day if he stopped respecting it for even a few minutes. And then he says, right up until a night when it was not the cold or the water that nearly broke him. The video also mentions a book called "The Bigfoot Codex," which the channel describes as a compilation of research and findings. Worth checking out if you're into the deeper research side of things. What makes this account stand out is the tone. Wilf isn't selling anything. He's not performing. He's an old man who has carried something for nearly six decades and is finally putting it down on record. The regret in his voice is palpable, and the way he describes the silence of those woods — the kind of silence that exists between one human settlement and the next in northern Maine — gives the whole story a weight that a lot of Sasquatch encounters lack. If you're a researcher, a witness, or just someone who appreciates a good firsthand account, this one is worth your time. The video runs long, but it's the kind of long that earns every minute. Go find it, settle in, and let Wilf tell you about the winter of 1966 himself.