Idaho Hunter Claims to Kill Bigfoot, Body Vanishes

There's a video making the rounds right now that every serious researcher needs to see, and honestly, it's one of the most unsettling accounts I've come across in a long time. A hunter in the Clearwater country of North Central Idaho allegedly shot a Sasquatch, documented it with 41 photographs taken at point-blank range, collected a physical sample, and then things took a turn that nobody could have predicted. The story centers on a man named Rusk, a 47-year-old elk hunter who has been hunting the drainages off the Lochsa since he was 14. This is prime Sasquatch territory, by the way. The Clearwater region of Idaho has been a hotspot for credible sightings for decades, with its dense old-growth forests, remote drainages, and abundant water sources. It's the kind of country where a person can disappear if they want to, and apparently, that's exactly what happened here. According to the account, Rusk was sitting a bench above a creek at first light on October 19th when a Sasquatch came down the creek bottom around 6 AM. He watched it for nearly four minutes at 91 yards before he did anything. He knew what it was immediately. When it walked directly under his position, he fired once with a .300 Short Magnum, and the Sasquatch went down in the creek and didn't get up. Now here's where it gets really interesting from a research standpoint. Rusk didn't panic. He sat there for 20 minutes before he could even make his legs work, and when he got down to the creek, the water running past the body was already clear. He took 41 photographs from every angle he could get to on his knees in that creek, marked the exact GPS coordinates to within nine feet, and did something nobody in the history of this subject has done properly. He took a piece of the Sasquatch with him. He knew, standing right there in that creek, that a photograph alone would never convince anyone. He's been right about that for 50 years of this subject's history. The problem of what to do with a body in the wilderness is something researchers have speculated about for years, and Rusk lived it. Seven miles up a drainage on foot, alone, no signal, no horse, and 11 hours of daylight. He tried to drag it. He got it maybe four feet out of the water before he realized he was pulling on something that simply wasn't going to move. A man who has dragged elk out of that country his whole life knows the difference between heavy and impossible. He got back to his truck around 4 PM and drove to a motel in Kooskia. He didn't call the sheriff. He didn't call the state. He didn't even call his wife that night, though he did tell her the following evening over the phone. She told him not to put it on the internet and not to phone the state. She was right about both, and he did neither. Four days later, on October 23rd, Rusk laid the remains out on a tarp on the open tailgate of his pickup in a gravel lot behind a shop in Kooskia. He invited seven people he'd chosen himself. His brother-in-law, two hunting partners of 20 years, a taxidermist out of Grangeville, a woman from the district office who handles game tags, a retired sheriff's deputy, and a man from the University of Idaho in Moscow. They stood around it for about 90 minutes, took better than 200 photographs between them, and the taxidermist had a tape measure on it inside four minutes. The university man took a sample with his own gloves and vial, wrote the date on the label in front of everyone, and put it in a cooler in his own vehicle. For four days, nothing happened. Then everything happened. Rusk went back up that drainage on October 25th with a pack frame and a neighbor's quad on a trailer, thinking two men and a winch could do what one man and a rope could not. He never found out if he was right. The body was gone. Not dragged, not scattered. He found his own bootprints from six days earlier still in the mud at the creek edge, and there was a patch of gravel about 11 feet across where the moss had been scraped off the stones. No blood anywhere. In a creek bottom. Six days after a chest shot. Then came the second Sasquatch. On October 27th, a Sasquatch came to the taxidermist's shop at around 11 PM while Rosco was still inside with the lights on. It didn't open the roll door. It pushed against it from the outside until the bottom rail came up off the concrete by about four inches. It did this three times in about a minute, each time opening a gap wide enough to get an arm through. Then it went down the side of the building, took the padlock off Rosco's shed on the way past, and left it in the gravel. The shed was empty. The padlock had been removed from a hasp that was still bolted to the door and still shut. How a padlock comes off a hasp that is still closed is the kind of question that keeps researchers up at night. The encounters didn't stop there. On November 2nd, the woman from the district office had her own experience, and the video goes into detail on that as well. What makes this account different from almost anything else out there is the chain of custody. Seven witnesses, a physical sample in a university cooler, GPS coordinates, 41 original photographs, and 200-plus additional photos taken at the tailgate. Four of those seven people have since asked Rusk to stop talking about it entirely. The two who never showed their photos to anyone are the two nothing happened to. His wife, who knew before the tailgate and never had anything happen to her, is the only person in the story who came out completely unscathed. This is the kind of account that demands attention. The video goes into much more detail than I can cover here, including the full account of what happened to Lorna on day 15 and the disturbing pattern that emerged among the witnesses. If this subject matters to you, and I know it does, you need to see this one for yourself. The original footage and the full breakdown are worth your time.