Looking for Bigfoot
by Douglas Young
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Table of Contents parts 1, 2, 3 |
part 1
Dudley and Zillah DuBose had lived full-time in their old mountain cabin since retiring two years before. During their first year there, they renovated and expanded the place considerably, doing much of the work themselves. Pleased with the results, Zillah looked forward to a far more relaxing life defined by hikes through a lovely landscape, more time with children and grandchildren, getting more active at church, and just treasuring no more stress from her old job or his.
Their early “golden years” were most satisfying for Zillah DuBose. Grateful to be retired and free from the city and all its traffic, fear of crime, and often ugly environment, she relished their relaxed rural surroundings, winding dirt roads, and enchanting quiet. Whether teaching Sunday school, singing in the church choir, volunteering at the local animal shelter, visiting relatives and friends, or just nesting around the house, this new chapter of her life had proved to be quite pleasant.
But retirement had been rougher on Dudley DuBose. Always way more career-focused than his wife, it had been tough adjusting to the record amount of free time. The first year after moving to the mountains had gone well enough since he enjoyed playing such a big role repairing, refurbishing, and enlarging the old cabin. But after that work was done, he had found his increased leisure challenging. Never as socially adept as Zillah, he had only made a few friendly acquaintances in their mountain community and missed his friends back in the city. Nor had he gotten too involved at church. He had read more books than ever over the past two years but found his eyes glazing over ever more pages.
Seeing him watch still more television in the den while she prepared dinner in the kitchen, Zillah noted how bored her husband looked, slumped in his reclining chair. He wore the same listless expression from earlier that day when she walked by him reading and ten minutes later walked by again to find him stuck on the same page. She had gently tried to get him to join her on more outings, but he had evinced all the enthusiasm of taking out the trash.
As hard as he had worked for fifty years, it troubled her to see him squander his well-earned retirement looking ever more lost, especially since for years she had implored him to retire, because she knew his health could no longer tolerate all the pressures at the office. But now she dreaded he might deteriorate due to apathy.
“Dudley, I want you to get out more, dear,” she suddenly blurted out. “You seem to be really dragging lately. I think you’re spending far too much time at home. Why don’t you at least walk more? And take A.P. Hill with you? He’s looking more tired these days, too.” At the mention of his name, the old dog lifted his head before lying back down by the recliner.
“Okay,” her husband answered with a voice from far away.
After a pause, she smiled. “You’re not ’fraid of Bigfoot, are you?”
That week’s Jefferson Reporter had featured a front-page article on recent reports of residents’ claiming to have encountered the legendary giant, ape-like creature in the local woods.
“That story in the paper ’bout all the recent sightings ’round here spook you?” She barely finished her sentence before giggling.
“Oh, yeah. I’m afeared something terrible,” he replied in a louder voice. “The key word in your last sentence is ‘story.’”
“When you go walking, just be sure to take the pistol and A.P. Hill, and you got nothing to fret about.” She grinned.
Hearing his name again, the dog briefly looked at Zillah before closing his eyes. He had loved the move to the country the most due to getting to roam the big property and explore the mountains. But as Mr. DuBose had begun to hang around the house and take more naps, so had the dog.
“You don’t bit more b’leive any of that foolishness than I do,” Dudley said with slight irritation.
“I don’t know, darling. That piece in the paper said there’ve been sightings in these parts for centuries. The Cherokees have accepted Bigfoot as a fact for hundreds of years. And the recent witnesses include some mighty reputable folks like that real cute young deputy sheriff, Albert Johnston, and the hardware store owner, Rufus Barringer, who’s a deacon in our church.”
“Right,” Dudley said with a raised eyebrow. “And that’s a mighty young deputy who strikes me as more excitable than Barney Fife. As for the good deacon, in a discussion of the wheels of Ezekiel in our senior men’s Sunday school class, I recollect how Brother Rufus speculated that UFOs could well be ‘Lucifer’s Luftwaffe.’ Yeah, so in light of such an unimpeachable pair of witnesses, who could possibly question the existence of ‘Bigfoot’?”
“Come on, Dudley. Don’t you think it’s at least possible there’s something to it? A whole lot of folks who’ve lived up here their whole lives sure swear by it.”
“So where are the ‘Bigfoot’ bodies or bones?” Dudley asked in the tone of someone laying down four aces in a game of poker. “Hmm? And the film footage and pictures and any other concrete, you know, actual evidence?”
“But there are miles and miles of thick forests all over these parts that make for just an ideal environment for Bigfoots to hide in,” she replied and realized she was trying to convince herself, too. “Besides, there’s nothing to be afraid of ’bout Bigfoot. In all the reported sightings and encounters over the centuries, that article said no one’s ever been hurt or attacked. The big fellow even comes across as downright playful.”
“Shug, rest assured, I ain’t any more scared of ‘Bigfoot’ than A.P. Hill.” Dudley chuckled as the dog opened one eye and quickly shut it.
The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” Zillah said as she wiped her hands and walked to the front door. When she opened it, a tall, black-jacketed, and smiling Benjamin Bunn, their retired next-door neighbor, stood with a large pair of clippers.
“Well, hey there, Ben. How are you, dear? Come on in. Dudley’s in the den.” Zillah beamed.
“Thank you, Miss Zillah.” Ben smiled and removed his cap as he came inside. “Here are the clippers Maryella borrowed. She says ‘Hey and mighty big thanks’ for letting her use ’em the other day. They sure did a jam-up fine job trimming the hedges, and we sure do appreciate it. She couldn’t return ’em herself on account of her having to go sit with her momma a spell. Yeah, the old gal’s been feeling poorly lately. You know, she’ll be 97 come February.”
“Well, bless her heart. We’ll sure say a prayer for her. Miss Maryella is certainly keeping the Fifth Commandment,” Zillah pronounced. “Dudley, look who’s here.”
Her husband turned and gave a slow wave from his chair with a weak smile. “Hey, neighbor.”
As Zillah and Ben stood in the kitchen, she noted how uncharacteristic it was for her husband to remain seated and not even stand to shake a guest’s hand.
“Ben, Dudley and I were just discussing that article in the paper ’bout all the recent Bigfoot sightings in these parts. Now haven’t you told me you believe there really is something to it?” she asked eagerly.
“Yes, ma’am,” Ben replied. “My daddy and granddaddy sure swore by it, and I’ve just heard way too many folks tell ’bout some awful strange doings in these woods over the years. Way too many people have seen things with their own eyes that just can’t be explained otherwise, and I’m talking good church-going folk, too,” he stated emphatically.
“You hear that, Dudley?” Zillah looked at her husband with a satisfied smile.
After a pause, all Mr. DuBose could muster was: “How ’bout that?”
“As a matter of fact,” Ben volunteered enthusiastically, “a few Saturdays a year, Ollie Semmes and I and several other local boys go hunting for Bigfoot. In fact, we’re due for another hunt soon, and we’d be right proud for you to join us, Dudley. We have a big time, and the woods are extra pretty this time of year.”
“How exciting,” Zillah exclaimed. “What do you say, Dudley? Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“Maybe so,” came her husband’s slightly bored reply.
“Now there’s nothing to be ’fraid of,” Mr. Bunn assured him. “A couple of us’ll bring shotguns just for peace of mind. But Bigfoot never hurt nobody no how. It’s a good excuse just to get out with the fellows and see what we can find.” He smiled.
“Y’all ever see Mr. Bigfoot?” Dudley asked.
“Not yet,” Ben replied. “But we’ve sure heard some mighty strange doings out there. Leaves rustling that we couldn’t explain, and even rocks being thrown near us, too.”
“Wow. How ’bout that?” Zillah’s face lit up excitedly as she looked at her husband.
“Got any pictures or recordings of the strange doings out there?” Dudley asked in a slightly bored tone as Zillah frowned at him.
“No, not yet, anyways,” Ben answered slowly, now detecting his neighbor was distinctly skeptical. “But we always bring our phones just in case,” he added.
“Well, if y’all ever record anything interesting, I’d sure love to take a look.” Dudley smiled weakly.
“Will do. Indeed, I’ll make sure you and Miss Zillah are among the first to see it.” Mr. Bunn winked at a smiling Mrs. DuBose.
They all said their goodbyes, and Zillah showed Ben to the door. Her smile disappeared when she returned to the kitchen. “You know, you could have shown a little more common Christian courtesy to that sweet man,” she remarked. “He and Maryella are ’bout as ideal a pair of next-door neighbors as we’ve ever had. And why’d you have to rain on his parade ’bout looking for Bigfoot? Shoot, hon, just think what a hoot it’d be to go out in the forest with Ben and Ollie and the rest of the fellows. It’s high time you started making some friends ’round here, Dudley. These are some fine folks.”
Her husband sighed but did not reply.
“You know, a lot of real smart folks are serious ’bout Bigfoot, too,” Zillah pronounced. “Dorena Drunell said at the beauty parlor that she’s got a whole clipping file of Bigfoot stories, and she’s got a Ph.D.”
“Yeah, in highfalutin foolishness,” Dudley remarked. “You know what Ph.D really stands for, don’t you?”
“I know: ‘Piled higher and deeper.’” She could not help but chuckle, satisfied she had at least jumpstarted some life out of her man.
“How sad the widow Drunell spends her time chasing ‘Bigfoot,’” he stated. “I reckon she’s got files on ‘alien visitors’ and ‘the Loch Ness monster’, too. Poor thing. Perhaps we so desperately need to create meaning in our lives precisely because there is none.” He sighed as he got up and left the room. Zillah’s smile collapsed and she became more determined than ever to shake her husband out of his funk
* * *
The next morning, she insisted he take a walk in the woods while she took the dog to the veterinarian’s office for a checkup. Sensing her growing concern about him, and appreciating her efforts to lift his spirits, Dudley readily agreed.
“You still want me to take the pistol?” he asked to her surprise before laughing.
“You still have the best straight face I’ve ever seen.” She smiled. “Which route you spec’ you’ll take?”
“I reckon I’ll head down to the lake and then circle back above that mess of peach trees.”
“A good long walk’ll do you good.” She kissed him goodbye.
After waving to her from the front porch as she pulled out the driveway with A.P. Hill happily leaning out the car window, Dudley walked around the front yard flower garden to head down the side of the mountain. He recognized that his wife was right to urge him to get out more. Besides, the woods were indeed prettiest this time of year, when the fall turned most leaves red, yellow, or orange. Dudley also enjoyed the crunch of the dried brown leaves as he walked down the various paths through the forest.
Occasionally, he wandered into a clearing where he would stop to admire the colorful foliage. When he reached Lake T.R.R. Cobb, he got excited seeing several bass gliding near the shore and figured he really ought to do more fishing before the weather got too cold.
It was such an auspicious autumn morning with the temperature so ideal that Dudley ended up walking more trails than usual. How he relished seeing so much woodsy terrain he had not traversed in a while. But not wanting the wife to worry, he at last decided to head home. While doing so, he became ensconced in that tranquil frame of mind where he was unaware of conscious thought but just content to enjoy the serene, colorfully kaleidoscopic surroundings.
Copyright © 2023 by Douglas Young
