Giant Sasquatch Encounter on Idaho Mule Deer Hunt

In a thrilling discovery that has sent shockwaves through the Bigfoot community, a video from YouTube channel Cryptid Chronicles has come to light, featuring a guide's encounter with the elusive creature in the Bitterroot Mountains of Idaho. The guide, Frank Peterson, has spent three decades guiding hunters through these ancient forests, but nothing could have prepared him for what he witnessed on this fateful day. The video, titled 'Ranger trips over Sasquatch, reveals his encounter, and gets fired! 'I know what I saw', begins with Frank and his client, Richard Keller, setting out on a mule deer hunt. As they reach the ridge, Frank notices movement by the aspen stand and, with a sense of anticipation, directs Keller's attention to it. After a cursory scan, Keller expresses his inability to see anything, but Frank persists, urging them to watch the tree line. As they wait, the autumn sun paints the forest in gold and amber, and Frank sets up his spotting scope on a tripod. The minutes stretch into an hour as they wait in silence, the chill morning air gradually warming around them. Frank remains motionless, a skill learned through decades of hunting, while Keller fidgets restlessly beside him. Suddenly, Frank catches movement at the edge of his vision. He raises his hand, signaling for silence, and raises his binoculars once more. "There," he whispers, 10:00 just coming out from that cluster of pines. A magnificent mule deer buck emerges from the trees, its massive rack of antlers catching the sunlight as it moves cautiously into the open. Frank feels the familiar surge of admiration for the animal, a respect born from a lifetime in these fountains. Behind him, he hears Keller's sharp intake of breath. The buck pauses to graze, presenting a perfect broadside shot. "Take your time," Frank murmurs, watching through his spotting scope as the buck pauses to graze. Keller eases the rifle into position, resting it on the shooting sticks Frank had set up earlier. Frank watches the man's technique with a critical eye, noting the slight tremor in his hands that speaks of buck fever, despite his client's attempts to appear calm and collected. The buck raises its head suddenly, ears twitching forward in alert attention. Something has spooked it. Frank tenses, knowing they might lose their opportunity. "Take the shot," he urges quietly, but Keller hesitates, adjusting his aim fractionally. In that moment, the buck bolts, bounding across the meadow toward the distant tree line with astonishing speed. Damn it, Keller hisses, lowering his rifle in frustration. Frank bites back his own disappointment. He's heading east, probably toward the creek for water, if we move now, we might cut him off. They gather their gear quickly, keller's earlier fatigue forgotten in the excitement of the chase. Frank leads them down a game trail that winds along the ridge, dropping into the valley at a more gradual slope than the cliff face on the opposite side. Years of guiding have mapped these mountains in Frank's mind more thoroughly than any GPS, and he knows exactly where the deer is likely to emerge if it follows its usual patterns. The trail takes them through a dense stand of lodgepole pines. The ground beneath their feet is soft with decades of fallen needles. The forest is unusually quiet, and Frank notices with none of the typical bird calls or squirrel chatter that normally fills the air. He slows his pace, a prickle of unease crawling up his spine. The instinctive weariness of a man who has spent his life in wilderness that could turn deadly in an instant. "Why are we stopping?" Keller asks from behind him, impatience edging his voice. Frank holds up a hand for silence, his eyes scanning the trees around them. "Listen," he says softly. "I don't hear anything." "Exactly." Frank's hand drifts unconsciously to the holster at his hip where his 44 Magnum rests, protection against the bears and mountain lions that prowl these forests. Nothing's making noise. Something spooked the wildlife. Keller's expression shifts from annoyance to uncertainty, like what a predator might feel. Frank concedes, though the silence feels different from the hush that falls when a wolf or cougar passes through. This is deeper, more complete, as if the forest itself were holding its breath. After a long moment, Frank shakes off the feeling and continues forward, though at a more cautious pace. They emerge from the trees into another small clearing, just as a sound reaches them. The splashing of water from the creek just beyond the next ridge. "That could be our buck," Frank whispers, gesturing for Keller to ready his rifle. They creep forward using the scattered boulders and scrub brush for cover as they crest the small rise that overlooks the creek. Frank drops to a crouch and raises his binoculars. The mule deer is there, its massive form bent to drink from the clear mountain stream. Antlers magnificent against the backdrop of pine and spruce. Perfect. Frank breathes, setting up the shooting sticks again and motioning for Keller to take position. 800 yd are just 2 minutes up for the distance. Keller settles behind his rifle, making the necessary adjustments to his scope with practiced fingers. Frank watches the man's technique with a critical eye, noting the slight tremor in his hands that speaks of buck fever, despite his client's attempts to appear calm and collected. The buck raises its head suddenly, water dripping from its muzzle as it stares intently across the creek toward the western cliff face. Frank frowns, adjusting his scope to follow the animal's gaze. The cliff rises nearly vertical for about 200 ft, a wall of striated rock and sparse vegetation that even mountain goats would find challenging. "What's he looking at?" Keller whispers. Frank is about to respond when he sees it. A shadow detaching itself from the tree line at the base of the cliff. Through his scope, the shape resolves into a massive form, far larger than any bear he has encountered in three decades of mountain living. "Hold your shot," Frank says, his voice tight with sudden tension. "What why?" Keller demands, not moving his eye from his scope. "There's something else out there," Frank adjusts his spotting scope, focusing sharply on the figure that now stands partially visible at the edge of the trees. His breath catches in his throat. The creature