BWBS Ep:130 The Boojum: North Carolina's Bigfoot

In the ancient mountains of Western North Carolina, where emeralds hide in weathered stone and mist cloaks valleys older than memory, something watches from the shadows. This episode explores the legend of the Boojum, a massive, hair-covered recluse that has haunted these hills since before the Cherokee walked the ridges.

Part Bigfoot, part treasure guardian, and wholly mysterious, the Boojum collects gems with the eye of a connoisseur and the strength to tear trees from the ground.Our story begins with a shaken geologist stumbling into a Burnsville diner with an impossible tale, then reaches back through centuries of encounters.

From Cherokee oral traditions that speak of Nun'Yunu'Wi's cousin who left garnets at the doors of newborns, to Civil War soldiers fleeing in terror from a creature that seemed to forbid violence in its domain, to modern-day scientists discovering inexplicable forest gardens tended by an unknown hand, we trace the evolution of a legend that refuses to fade.

Drawing from historical accounts, family journals, and the testimony of a secret network of protectors known as the Keepers, we explore  what happens when ancient mystery collides with the modern world of GPS tracking and thermal drones.

In an age where every square foot of earth can be photographed from space, the Boojum reminds us that some things are more valuable when they remain hidden, and that wonder itself might be worth protecting.


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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:02):
For decades, people have disappeared in the woods without a trace.
Some blame wild animals, others whisper of creatures the world
refuses to believe in. But those who have survived they
know the truth. Welcome to Backwoods Bigfoot Stories, where we
share real encounters with the things lurking in the darkness Bigfoot,

(00:23):
dog man, UFOs, and creatures that defy explanation. Some make
it out, others aren't so lucky. Are you ready, because
once you hear these stories, you'll never walk in the
woods alone again. So grab your flashlight, stay close and
remember some things in the woods don't want to be found.
Hit that follow or subscribe button, turn on auto downloads,

(00:46):
and let's head off into the woods if you dare.
The old timer's hands trembled as he set down his
coffee cup at the Burnsville Diner, the porcelain rattling against

(01:09):
the saucer like teeth chattering. In winter, it was August,
mind you, August in the Blue Ridge Mountains, where the
humidity hung thick as wool blankets, and the cicadas screamed
their summer songs from dawn to dusk. But Edgar Whitman
was cold cold in a way that had nothing to
do with temperature and everything to do with what he'd
seen three nights prior up on Rhane Mountain. You won't

(01:32):
believe me, he said to the small crowd that had
gathered around his booth, drawn by the commotion of his
dramatic entrance and wild eyed demeanor. Hell I barely believe
it myself, and I was there. Sarah, the diner's owner
for going on thirty years, refilled his cup without being asked.
She'd seen plenty of hunters, hikers, and mountain folk come
through her doors with tall tails, but Edgar was different.

(01:55):
Edgar was a geologist, a man of science who'd spent
forty years mapping me uneral deposits throughout western North Carolina.
He didn't spook easy, and he sure is shooting. Didn't
make things up. Try us, she said, gently, settling her
considerable frame into the booth across from him. Edgar took
a long pull of coffee, seemed to gather himself, then began.

(02:18):
I was up near the old Cloudland Hotel ruins, you
know where the Tennessee Line cuts across the ball. Had
my equipment out taking some readings on a quartz vane.
I'd been tracking, sun was setting, painting everything gold and purple,
beautiful as you please. That's when I heard it, like thunder,
but rhythmic footsteps, heavy ones. He paused, eyes darting to

(02:43):
the window, as if whatever he'd encountered might be peering
in at them even now. And then I saw it
must have been eight feet tall, covered in hair the
color of dark honey mixed with shadow. It was bent
over something. And when the last bit of sunlight caught
what it was holding, Edgar's voice dropped to barely a whisper. Emeralds,

(03:04):
raw emeralds the size of hen's eggs, just cradled in
its massive hands like a child holding marbles. The diner
had gone dead quiet. Even the ancient air conditioner seemed
to pause and hang on his words. It looked at me,
Edgar continued, eyes like green fire, intelligent as any person's,
no more than that ancient intelligence, and the way it

(03:28):
looked like it had seen everything since before the Cherokee,
before anyone, and carried knowledge we were never meant to touch.
Sarah was the first to speak the boojum. Edgar's cup
slipped from his fingers, shattering on the linoleum floor. You
know about it, he gasped. Honey, everybody who's lived in

(03:49):
these hills long enough knows about the Boojum. Question is,
now that it's shown itself to you, what are you
going to do about it? But Edgar Whitman had no
answer for that. How could he. He'd just become part
of a story that had been unfolding in the North
Carolina Mountains for longer than anyone could remember. A story
of a creature that collected gems like a dragon Horde's gold,

(04:11):
that could be as gentle as morning mist or as
terrible as a mountain storm, and that had, just, for
reasons known only to itself, decided to reveal its existence
to a man of science who'd spent his whole life
believing only in what he could measure and prove. The
Boojum was real, and this is its story. Long before

(04:32):
European settlers gave it a name borrowed from Lewis Carroll's
nonsense poetry, before the Cherokee called it, none y knew
we the Stone Giant's cousin. Before any human language tried
to capture its essence, the creature existed in the ancient
mountains of what would become North Carolina. The Appellachians themselves,
those worn down nubs of once mighty peaks that had

(04:53):
stood when the continents were young, served as both home
and hide away. For this singular being. Understand the Boojum,
you must first understand these mountains. The Appalachians are old,
older than the Rockies, older than the Himalayas, older than
the Atlantic Ocean itself. They were born four hundred eighty
million years ago, when the Earth's plates collided with such

(05:16):
force that the seafloor was thrust skyward, creating peaks that
once rivaled the modern Alps. Time and weather wore them down,
but in that wearing they revealed treasures, veins of quartz,
deposits of mica, garnets scattered like drops of blood through
the shist, and yes emeralds, North Carolina being one of

(05:37):
the few places in North America where true emeralds could
be found naturally, it was these gems that first drew
the Boojum. From wherever such creatures originate. Some say it
wandered down from the far North during the last ice Age,
following the retreating glaciers. Others claim it arose from the
mountains themselves, a kind of spontaneous generation, from the marriage

(05:59):
of ancient stone and primordial forest. The Cherokee elders, those
few who still remembered the oldest stories, spoke of it
as a guardian, placed here by the Creator to watch
over the Earth's treasures and ensure they weren't all taken
by greedy hands. The physical description of the Boojum has
remained remarkably consistent across centuries of sightings, standing between seven

(06:22):
and nine feet tall when fully upright, though it often
moved in a hunched, almost apologetic posture. It was covered
in thick fur that changed color with the seasons, darker
in winter, taking on golden brown hues in summer, sometimes
appearing almost reddish in autumn's light. Its face was almost human,

(06:42):
but broader, with a pronounced brow ridge and eyes that
reflected light. Those eyes were always described as green, though
the shade varied from the pale green of spring leaves
to the deep emerald of the stones it prized above
all else. But it was the hands that witnesses remembered
most vividly, massive, certainly with fingers as thick as axe handles,

(07:05):
but surprisingly delicate in their movements. These were hands that
could tear a pine tree from the ground or pick
up a butterfly without damaging a single scale on its wings.
They were hands that knew the subtle art of prying
gems from their matrix rock without damaging them, Hands that
could shape crude tools, hands that could, when necessary, defend

(07:26):
their owner with terrible efficiency. The Cherokee had lived alongside
the boojum for generations before European contact, and their oral
traditions provided the most detailed early accounts of the creature's behavior.
They called it noon Yu Nui's cousin because it shared
certain characteristics with the stone giants of their mythology. Great size,

(07:47):
incredible strength, skin or in this case, fur that could
turn aside arrows. But unlike the stone giants, who were
generally portrayed as enemies of humanity, the boojum occupied a
more ambiguous position in Cherokee cosmology. According to the stories
told by Nancy Ward's descendants, Nancy Ward being the famous

(08:07):
beloved woman of the Cherokee, the boojum was neither good
nor evil, but operated according to its own moral code,
one that humans could sometimes understand but never fully predict.
It would sometimes leave gifts of precious stones at the
doorways of Cherokee houses where children had been born, particularly
if the birth had been difficult. These gems were considered

(08:29):
powerful medicine, capable of ensuring the child would grow up
strong and wise. But the Boojum also had strict rules
about its territory and its gems. The Cherokee knew that
certain valleys, certain cave systems, certain groves of ancient trees
were off limits. To violate these boundaries was to invite
the creature's wrath. The stories told of hunters who disappeared

(08:52):
after pursuing deer into forbidden valleys, of women gathering herbs
who heard terrible roars that sent them fleeing back to
the villages. Of young men who thought to prove their
bravery by stealing from the Boojum's gem caches and were
found days later, alive but mad, unable to speak of
what they'd experienced. One particularly detailed account comes from the

(09:15):
journal of James Mooney, the ethnographer who lived among the
Eastern Cherokee in the eighteen eighties and collected their stories.
Though Mooney himself was skeptical, he faithfully recorded the tale
told to him by an elder named Standing Deer. My
grandfather saw the hairy one when he was a young
man before the removal. He had gone up into the

(09:35):
high mountains to fast and seek a vision. On the
fourth day week from hunger, he saw it come out
of the morning mist. It was carrying stones that caught
fire from the sunrise, red and green and blue. The
creature saw my grandfather, but did not flee. Instead, it
sat down across from him, and they regarded each other
for a long time. My grandfather said he felt no fear,

(09:59):
only a great sadness coming from the creature, like it
was lonely beyond measure. Finally, it stood, placed a single
green stone on the ground between them, and walked back
into the mist. My grandfather took that stone, and it
brought good fortune to our family until the soldiers came
and we had to leave for the west. The stone

(10:19):
was lost on the trail, like so many precious things.
The removal the Trail of Tears marked a turning point
in the Boojum's history as well, with the forced exile
of most of the Cherokee in eighteen thirty eight. The
creature lost the only human neighbors who truly understood its nature.
The few Cherokee who managed to hide in the mountains

(10:41):
and avoid removal continued to respect the old boundaries, but
they were too few and too scattered to maintain the
complex relationship their ancestors had cultivated. The European settlers who
flooded into western North Carolina following the Cherokee removal brought
with them a different worldview, one that saw the mountains
not as sacred spaces to be carefully navigated, but as

(11:03):
resources to be exploited. They came seeking gold, especially after
the First North American gold rush in nearby Kabaris County
in seventeen ninety nine, timber farmland and yes gems. They
had no knowledge of the Boojum's territories, no understanding of
the unwritten rules that had governed human creature interactions for generations.

(11:26):
The first documented encounter between a European settler and the
Boojum occurred in eighteen forty three. Marcus Blackwood, a prospector
from Cornwall, England, who had come to North Carolina following
rumors of emerald deposits, wrote in a letter to his wife,
Dearest Margaret, I must tell you of the most extraordinary thing,
though I fear you will think your husband has taken

(11:46):
leave of his senses. I was working a promising dig
near what the locals call Rhane Mountain when I heard
what I took to be another prospector approaching through the brush.
I called out a greeting, as is customary in these
lonely places, but received no reply. The footsteps stopped. When
I looked up from my work, I beheld a creature

(12:07):
out of mythology, a giant covered in fur like a bear,
but standing upright like a man. It was watching me
with such intelligence in its eyes that I felt myself
to be the animal and it the human. I was
frozen with terror, certain my end had come. But then
the most remarkable thing happened. It pointed, yes, pointed with

(12:29):
a finger like any man might, to a spot some
twenty feet from where I was digging. Then it turned
and vanished into the forest with a speed that seemed
impossible for something so large. When I finally gathered the
courage to investigate the spot it had indicated, I found
a vein of quartz with the finest emerald crystals I
have ever seen. I have taken only a few specimens,

(12:51):
and dare not return, for I feel I have been
both warned and gifted in equal measure. Blackwood's emeralds, when
he finally brought them to Charlotte to be assessed, caused
a sensation they were of exceptional quality, rivaling anything coming
out of Columbia. This sparked what would become known as
the Green Rush of eighteen forty four to eighteen forty five,

(13:14):
as dozens of prospectors descended on the mountains of western
North Carolina. It also marked the beginning of a darker
period in the Boojum's history. The prospectors, driven by greed
and armed with modern rifles, had no respect for the
creature or its territories. They dynamited caves, clearcut forests to
get at mineral veins, and diverted streams for hydraulic mining.

(13:38):
Several prospectors reported being attacked by what they described as
a wild man or demon of the mountains. Unlike the
Cherokee accounts, which generally portrayed the Boojum as avoiding violence
and less severely provoked, these encounters were aggressive from the start.
Thomas Ashford, a prospector from Philadelphia, barely survived an encounter

(13:58):
in September eighteen forty four. His account, published in the
Asheville Citizen, described being stalked for three days through the mountains.
It would throw rocks at my camp at night, boulders
that no man could lift. It would scream, Lord, help me,
such screams as would freeze the blood. On the third
night it came into my camp. I shot at it

(14:20):
three times with my rifle, and I know I hit
it at least once, for I saw it flinch. But
it kept coming. It destroyed my equipment, scattered my supplies,
and then grabbed me by the throat. I thought surely
I was dead, but it only lifted me to eye
level and stared at me. I have never felt such intelligence,
such ancient anger. Then it spoke, yes, spoke, though in

(14:44):
no language I recognized. It sounded like rocks grinding together,
like wind through caves. It dropped me and was gone.
I left the mountains that very night and shall never return.
Stay tuned for more Backwoods Bigfoot stories. We'll be back
after these messages. The American Civil War brought a temporary

(15:06):
respite to the Boojum's troubles with gem seekers. As men's
attention turned to killing each other rather than searching for treasure. However,
the war years produced some of the most intriguing accounts
of the creature's behavior, suggesting a intelligence that could comprehend
human conflict and even perhaps two sides. The mountains of

(15:27):
western North Carolina were a complex battleground during the war.
While North Carolina as a whole sided with the Confederacy,
the mountain regions were deeply divided. Many mountaineers opposed secession
and slavery, leading to a brutal guerrilla war between Confederate
Home Guard units and Unionist bushwhackers. It was a time

(15:48):
of raids, reprisals, and random violence that made the mountains
even more dangerous than usual. It was during this chaos
that the Boujim began to appear more frequently, and always,
it seemed, at crucial moments. Sarah Hensley, a Union sympathizer
whose husband was hiding from Confederate conscription, wrote in her
diary in October eighteen sixty three, the Home Guard came

(16:11):
today searching for William and the other men. They were
tearing apart the barn when we heard it a roar
from the ridge above our farm. That made the horses
rear and the dog's cower. The soldiers fled, claiming a
demon was protecting the Lincoln lovers. I cannot say what
made that sound, but I'm grateful for it. William remained safe.

(16:32):
Even more remarkable was the account of the Battle of
the Bald, a skirmish fought on one of the Grass
Balds near the Tennessee border in March eighteen sixty four.
Lieutenant James Crawford of the third North Carolina Mounted Infantry
Union reported we were outnumbered three to one, Pinned down
on the bald with no cover and running low on ammunition.

(16:53):
The Confederates were preparing for a final charge when something
emerged from the tree line behind them. I can only
describe it as a giant covered in brown fur, carrying
what appeared to be a club made from an entire
tree trunk. It did not attack anyone directly, but moved
between the two forces, roaring and gesturing. Both sides fell

(17:13):
back in terror. The creature then did something I shall
never forget. It planted the tree trunk in the ground
between us, like a barrier or a warning, and walked
calmly back into the forest. The battle ended without another
shot fired, as both forces retreated in opposite directions. Some
historians have dismissed these accounts as war induced hysteria or propaganda,

(17:37):
but the consistency of the descriptions and the fact that
they came from both Union and Confederate sources suggest something
more substantial. The Boojum, it seemed, had no interest in
human politics, but a strong interest in preventing excessive violence
in its territory. The post war period brought a new
wave of industrialization to the South, and with it came

(17:58):
renewed interest in the general wealth of the North Carolina Mountains.
The discovery of the Crab Tree Emerald mine in eighteen
seventy four and the subsequent establishment of several commercial mining
operations brought more people into the Boojum's territory than ever before.
This period also saw the first attempts to scientifically document

(18:18):
the creature. Doctor Bartholomew Hedge, a naturalist from Harvard University
who had come south to study the unique flora of
the southern Appalachians, became fascinated by the consistent reports of
the North Carolina wild man. In eighteen seventy eight, he
organized what might be considered the first cryptozoological expedition in
American history. Hedges journal from this expedition provides some of

(18:42):
the most detailed observations of the boojum's behavior. Day twelve,
We have found what I believe to be one of
the creature's caches. It is a natural cave, but the
entrance has been deliberately modified. Stones have been stacked to
partially conceal it, and symbols have been carved into the
surrounding trees. Inside, we discovered an astonishing collection of gems

(19:05):
and minerals, arranged not randomly, but in clear patterns. The
emeralds are grouped by size and quality, the garnets arranged
in a spiral pattern. Chunks of rose quartz placed like
sentinels at the entrance. This is not the horde of
an animal, but the collection of an intelligence that appreciates
beauty and order. Day fifteen contact at last, the creature

(19:30):
appeared at our camp at dawn, initially causing panic among
my assistants. It is indeed impressive. I estimate eight feet
in height, covered in thick fur of a reddish brown hue.
The face is remarkably human like, though the jaw is
more pronounced, and the brow heavily ridged. It did not attack,
but seemed to be studying us as intently as we

(19:51):
were studying it. When I slowly approached with a gift,
a cut and polished amethyst I had brought from Boston,
it accepted it with surprising gentleness. It examined the stone,
closely turning it to catch the light, then made a
sound I can only describe as appreciative. Day sixteen. The
creature returned today, bringing a gift of its own, a

(20:15):
raw emerald of exceptional quality. It placed it carefully on
a stump near our camp and waited. I understood this
to be in exchange, so I offered another polished stone,
this time a piece of celestite. The creature examined it,
then did something remarkable. It pointed to the sky, then
to the stone, as if recognizing the celestial association of

(20:39):
the mineral's name. This suggests not just intelligence, but possibly
an understanding of abstract connections. Day twenty. Our presence has
clearly disturbed the creature's routines, and it has become increasingly agitated.
Yesterday it destroyed our photographic equipment when my assistant attempted
to capture its image. Today, it has not appeared, but

(21:01):
we have heard it moving in the forest around us,
breaking branches and occasionally roaring. I believe it is warning
us to leave, and we shall heed that warning. I
have enough observations to present to the scientific community, though
I doubt they will be believed without physical evidence. Hedge's
presentation to the Boston Society of Natural History was met

(21:22):
with skepticism and ridicule. Without photographs or physical evidence, his
carefully documented observations were dismissed as delusion or hoax. Frustrated,
Hedge never returned to North Carolina, but his journals remained
in the Harvard Archives, consulted by later researchers trying to
understand the Boojum phenomenon. The dawn of the twentieth century

(21:44):
brought radical changes to the North Carolina mountains. The logging
industry reached its peak, with entire mountain sides stripped bare.
The American chestnut blight arrived in nineteen oh four, eventually
killing billions of trees and fundamentally altering the forest ecosystem.
Mining operations became increasingly mechanized and invasive. For the Boojum.

(22:07):
This period represented an existential threat to both its habitat
and its way of life. The creature's behavior during this
period shifted noticeably. Where once it had been occasionally seen,
even seeking limited interaction with humans, it now became almost
entirely reclusive. Sightings dropped to near zero between nineteen hundred

(22:28):
and nineteen twenty, leading some to speculate that the boojum
had either died or migrated elsewhere. However, evidence of its
continued presence persisted in more subtle forms. Clarence Mitchell, a
timber cruiser for the Champion Fiber Company, reported in nineteen
thirteen we were marking trees for cutting up near Black

(22:48):
Balsam when we found something peculiar in a grove of
ancient hemlocks. Someone or something had stacked stones around the
base of each tree, dozens of them in perfect circle.
The stones were of different types, some local, some that
must have been carried from miles away. When we tried
to remove them to get at the trees, every man

(23:09):
and the crew became violently ill, nausea, dizziness, temporary blindness.
We marked that grove as unsuitable for harvest and never
went back. The old timers said we'd found one of
the Boojam's sacred places and were lucky to escape with
our lives. The establishment of the Great Smoky Mountains National
Park in nineteen thirty four and the Blue Ridge Parkway

(23:32):
in nineteen thirty five provided some protection for the Boojum's habitat,
though it also brought more tourists into the mountains. Park
rangers from this era occasionally filed reports of unusual wildlife
that didn't match any known species, though these were typically
buried in administrative files and forgotten. One exception was ranger

(23:53):
Theodore ted Whitman, grandfather of Edgar Whitman, whom we met
in the Prologue. Ted Whitman served as a backcountry ranger
from nineteen thirty eight to nineteen sixty five and kept
detailed personal notes about his encounters with what he called
the Old Man of the Mountains. His private journal, discovered
after his death in nineteen eighty two, contained dozens of

(24:15):
entries about the Boojum. June fifteenth, nineteen forty three, found
another gem Cash Today, while investigating reported poaching activity near
Craggy Gardens. This one was different from the others. The
gems were arranged in what looked like a map of
the local mountains, with larger stones representing higher peaks, left
it undisturbed and marked the area as ecologically sensitive to

(24:38):
keep hikers away. September third, nineteen forty seven. The Old
Man showed himself to me today. I was alone at
sunrise on black Balsam Knob when he emerged from the
rhododendron thickets. We sat together for nearly an hour, neither moving,
just watching the sun rise. I felt a profound sadness

(24:58):
from him, a loneliness that seemed to echo my own.
When he left, he placed a small garnet in my hand.
I carry it still. December twentieth, nineteen fifty five. Heavy
snow has driven most wildlife to lower elevations, but I
found tracks near the shelter at Deep Gap. The Old
Man is still ranging through the high country despite the

(25:20):
harsh weather. The tracks led to a cave where I
found evidence of tool use, stone shaped for cutting what
might be a grinding platform for nuts or acorns. He's
adapted to the changing mountains better than I expected. April twelfth,
nineteen sixty two. Development pressure is increasing. There's talk of
more ski resorts, more vacation homes, more roads. I've been

(25:44):
quietly sabotaging surveys in areas I know the old man frequents,
but I can't hold back progress forever. I worry what
will become of him when every wild place has been mapped, developed,
and monetized. The nineteen sixties and nineteen seven and he
saw the rise of the environmental movement, and with it
came a new perspective on creatures like the Boojum. No

(26:06):
longer seen merely as curiosities or monsters, cryptids began to
be viewed by some as symbols of wilderness and the unknown,
deserving of protection rather than exploitation. It was during this
period that doctor Margaret Blackwood, granddaughter of Marcus Blackwood, the
prospector who had encountered the Boojum in eighteen forty three,
established the Southern Appalachian Cryptozoological Research Institute in Ashville. Unlike

(26:31):
previous researchers who had sought to capture or prove the
existence of the Boojum, Blackwood's approach was more anthropological and
conservation minded. We're not trying to drag Bigfoot into a laboratory,
she said in a nineteen seventy one interview. With the
Asheville Citizen Times. We're trying to understand how these legends
reflect our relationship with the natural world and what we

(26:52):
lose when we dismissed them as mere superstition. Sacri's files
from this period contained hundreds of reported sightings, though Blackwood
was careful to note that many were likely misidentifications of
bears or were influenced by the popular bigfoot craze sweeping
the nation. However, certain reports stood out for their consistency
and credibility. One particularly intriguing case involved a group of

(27:17):
geology students from the University of North Carolina who were
conducting field research in the Spruce Pine area in May
nineteen seventy three. According to their professor, doctor James Hartley,
my students were mapping pegmatite formations when they discovered a
series of excavations that defied explanation. Someone or something had

(27:37):
been mining for gems, but the technique was unlike anything
used by humans. Instead of blasting or heavy machinery, the
rock had been carefully split along natural fracture lines with
minimal damage to surrounding stone. The precision suggested both tremendous
strength and intimate knowledge of geological structure. More interesting still,

(27:58):
were the gems left behind. Only the finest specimens had
been taken, while lower quality stones that would still have
considerable commercial value were ignored. This selective harvesting indicated esthetic
rather than economic motivations. We also found what appeared to
be offerings left at the site, polished stones not native

(28:18):
to the area, arranged in deliberate patterns. The students wanted
to publish their findings, but doctor Hartley convinced them to
keep the discovery quiet, fearing that publicity would lead to
the site's destruction by treasure hunters or cryptid enthusiasts. The
advent of the Internet and digital technology in the nineteen
nineties created new challenges for the Boojum's continued concealment. Trail cameras,

(28:43):
GPS tracking, satellite imagery, and smartphones meant that the wild
places of the mountains were no longer as wild or
as private as they once were. Every hiker was now
a potential photographer. Every unusual sighting could be uploaded to
social media within minutes. Yet, paradoxically, this flood of information
may have actually helped protect the Boojum. The Internet became

(29:07):
saturated with fake Bigfoot videos, manipulated photographs, and outlandish claims.
Any genuine evidence of the creature was lost in a
sea of hoaxes and misidentifications. The boy who cried Wolf
had been replaced by thousands of people crying sasquatch. Still
there were those who knew the truth. In nineteen ninety eight,

(29:28):
a coalition of individuals who had encountered the Boojum over
the years formed what they called the Keepers, a loose
network dedicated to protecting the creature and its habitat. The
group included park rangers, geologists, local historians, and descendants of
Cherokee families who had maintained the old stories. Rachel's Standing Deer,

(29:49):
great great granddaughter of the elder who had told James
Mooney about the Boojum in the eighteen eighties, served as
an informal leader of the Keepers. Stay tuned for more
Backwoods Bigfoot story. We'll be back after these messages. In
a rare interview conducted under condition of anonymity in two
thousand and three, she explained their mission. We're not trying

(30:11):
to prove anything to anyone. We know what we know.
Our job is to keep the developers away from certain
places to misdirect the trophy hunters and the YouTube explorers
to ensure that some mysteries remain mysterious. The boojum has
survived this long because it's smart, but it needs help
navigating the modern world. The keepers worked in subtle ways.

(30:33):
They would spread misinformation about sighting locations, leading cryptid hunters
to areas far from the Boojum's actual territory. They lobbied
for certain areas to be designated as wilderness or to
have their mineral rights protected. They maintained the old Cherokee
tradition of leaving offerings at boundary stones, though now the

(30:53):
offerings might include solar batteries or led lights, technology that
could help the creature adapt to change conditions. One of
the most intriguing aspects of the Boojum legend in the
twenty first century has been what collectors call the Carolina anomaly,
the periodic appearance of exceptional gems in the regional market
that cannot be traced to any known mine or source.

(31:17):
William Chen, a gemologist based in Franklin, North Carolina, self
proclaimed gem capital of the World, has been tracking these
anomalous stones since nineteen ninety five. Every few years, someone
walks into a shop with emeralds or garnets that are
simply extraordinary, perfect clarity, unusual size, with mineral signatures that

(31:38):
don't match any commercial operation in the state. The sellers
always have vague stories about inheritance or finding them while hiking.
They only want cash, never checks or electronic payment. They're
always alone, always nervous, and they never come back. I've
analyzed dozens of these stones. They're genuine, they're local. Chemical

(32:00):
signatures match North Carolina geology, but they'refrom deposits that aren't
commercially viable or are supposedly exhausted. It's as if someone
has access to gem sources that the mining companies don't
know about or can't reach. In two thousand and seven,
Chen attempted to follow one of these mysterious sellers, a
woman who had brought in a collection of spectacular rubies,

(32:23):
North Carolina being one of the few places in North
America where true rubies are found. She led him on
a winding route through the mountains before seemingly vanishing on
a trail near Rhone Mountain. When Chen returned to the
spot the next day with better equipment and a friend,
they found something unusual. There were marks on the trees,

(32:43):
not blazes like trail markers, but symbols carved into the bark.
They looked old, but also fresh, if that makes sense,
like they'd been renewed recently over older carvings. My friend,
who had some knowledge of Cherokee riding, said they weren't Cherokee,
but might be inflotluenced. Buy it. We both felt strongly
that we were being watched and left quickly. Chen's experience

(33:06):
led him to a startling hypothesis. What if the Boojum
had learned to use intermediaries to convert its gem collection
into resources it needed. What if it had adapted to
the modern economy while remaining hidden. To understand the Boojum's
current status, we must understand the ecological niche it occupies,
not just in the physical environment of the mountains, but

(33:28):
in the human ecosystem of belief, tourism, and conservation that
now defines much of western North Carolina. Doctor Lisa crow Feather,
an environmental anthropologist at Appalachian State University, has studied what
she calls the cryptid economy of the region. The Boojum
and similar legends generate millions of dollars annually for local

(33:49):
communities through tourism, merchandise, and media attention. Gift shops sell
boujium figurines, restaurants offer boujum burghers. There's even a Boojum
music festival every October. The creature has become a brand,
a commodity, but this commercialization also serves a protective function.
The real Boojum, if it exists, benefits from the smoke

(34:12):
screen of kitsch and commerce. No one looks for the
authentic when they're surrounded by replicas. This economic reality has
created strange alliances. Environmental groups that would typically dismiss cryptozoology
as pseudoscience find themselves working alongside bigfoot researchers to protect
wilderness areas. Local businesses that profit from boojum tourism have

(34:34):
become fierce advocates for conservation, understanding that their livelihood depends
on maintaining the mystery and the wild spaces where that
mystery dwells. The Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians, who operate
the successful Horas Cherokee Casino, have taken a particularly interesting stance.
While they don't officially acknowledge the Boojum's existence, they've quietly

(34:57):
purchased large tracts of mountain land and designated them as
cultural preservation areas, off limits to development or tourism. When
asked about these purchases, tribal attorney Robert owl Feathers stated, simply,
some things are more valuable than money. Meanwhile, climate change
has begun to affect the mountains in ways that would
inevitably impact any large mammal living there. Winters have become

(35:21):
milder but more erratic. The timing of plant flowering and
fruiting has shifted. The emerald ash bore and hemlock wooly
addal JD have devastated tree populations. If the Boojum is real,
it must be adapting to these changes or facing extinction.
In twenty eighteen, a team of conservation biologists conducting a
biodiversity survey in the Pizga National Forest discovered something remarkable.

(35:47):
A series of what they called forest gardens, areas where
native medicinal and food plants had been deliberately cultivated and maintained.
These gardens showed evidence of recent tending, but were far
from any trails or known human habitation. Doctor Jennifer Moss,
who led the survey reported someone or something has been
practicing sophisticated forest management in these remote areas. We found

(36:12):
American jensaying being cultivated using techniques that insure sustainable harvesting, ramps,
wild leaks that had been transplanted to new areas as
their original habitat was disturbed, and even evidence that disease
trees had been removed to prevent spread to healthy specimens.
This isn't random, It's the work of an intelligence that

(36:33):
understands forest ecology at a deep level. The two thousands
tens brought a new generation of cryptid hunters, armed with
unprecedented technology thermal drones, environmental DNA sampling, AI powered analysis
of acoustic data. The tools for finding large undiscovered animals
had never been more sophisticated. Several well funded expeditions targeted

(36:56):
the North Carolina Mountains searching for definitive proof of the
Boojum's existence. The most ambitious of these was the twenty
nineteen appalach Cryptid Project, funded by tech billionaire Marcus Thornfield,
who had become obsessed with cryptozoology after a personal sighting
of something unusual during a hiking trip in the Blue

(37:17):
Ridge Mountains. The project employed cutting edge technology, a network
of five hundred AI equipped trail cameras that could distinguish
between known animals and anomalies. Environmental DNA collection from streams
and soil samples, acoustic monitoring stations that recorded and analyzed
all sounds in a twenty mile radius. Satellite imagery analysis

(37:39):
looking for heat signatures and movement patterns inconsistent with known wildlife.
A team of twenty researchers, including biologists, data scientists, and
tracking experts. After eighteen months and three million dollars spent,
the project's results were frustratingly ambiguous. Project director doctor Samuel

(37:59):
Marrison and presented their findings at a press conference in
December twenty twenty. We found evidence of something. Our cameras
captured several images of a large bipedal figure, but always
at the edge of detection range, always partially obscured. Our
DNA sampling revealed genetic material that doesn't match any known species,

(38:20):
but it's also degraded and contaminated, making definitive analysis impossible.
Our acoustic monitoring recorded vocalizations that don't match any cataloged
animal calls, but they could potentially be explained by unusual
atmospheric conditions affecting known sounds. Most intriguingly, we documented what
appears to be deliberate avoidance of our equipment. Cameras would

(38:44):
mysteriously malfunction when pointed at certain areas, GPS trackers would
give false readings. It's as if something understood our technology
and actively worked to evade it. Thornfield, frustrated by the
lack of concrete results, wanted to continue the project within
even more invasive methods, including the use of military grade
surveillance equipment. However, he faced unexpected opposition local communities, environmental groups,

(39:11):
and even some members of his own research team pushed back.
Doctor Morrison himself resigned from the project, stating, there are
some mysteries that shouldn't be solved. If the boujam exists,
it has survived by avoiding human contact. What right do
we have to destroy that survival strategy for our own curiosity,
Which brings us back to Edgar Whitman and his encounter

(39:33):
on Rhane Mountain in August twenty twenty four. Edgar, remember
was the grandson of Ted Whitman, the park ranger who
had documented his own encounters with the Boojum decades earlier,
though ted had never spoken to his family about his experiences,
Edgar had discovered his grandfather's journals after his father's death
in twenty twenty two. Reading those journals had awakened something

(39:55):
in Edgar, a mixture of scientific curiosity and family laflegacy.
He began to spend his weekends and vacations in the
areas his grandfather had mentioned, not actively searching for the boojum,
but simply being present in its possible territory. On that
August evening, Edgar wasn't looking for the creature. He was
genuinely conducting geological research, following up on an interesting courtz

(40:19):
formation he'd noticed on a previous trip. The encounter was
pure chance, or was it. In the days following his
dramatic appearance at the Burnsville Diner, Edgar struggled with what
to do with his experience. He had no proof. In
his shock, he hadn't even thought to take a photograph,
but he also had a family legacy to consider, and,

(40:41):
more importantly, a growing understanding that proof might not be
the point. Three weeks after the encounter, Edgar returned to
Rhone Mountain alone, carrying his grandfather's journal and the garnet
ted had been given by the Boojum in nineteen forty seven.
He left both at the spot where he'd seen the creature,
along with the note I understand now some things are

(41:03):
meant to remain hidden, not because they are false, but
because they are true in ways that cannot survive exposure.
I will keep your secret as my grandfather did, but
I needed you to know that his line continues, and
so does his promise. When Edgar returned the next day,
the journal and garnet were gone. In their place was

(41:24):
a raw emerald, identical to the ones the creature had
been holding when Edgar first saw it, and something else,
a stone carved with symbols that looked like a fusion
of Cherokee syllaberry and something older, something that predated any
human writing. Edgar took the stone to Rachel's standing Deer,
who was now in her seventies but still sharp as flint.

(41:46):
She studied it for a long time before speaking, this
is a teaching stone. See these marks here. They're instructions,
but not for finding the Boojum, for protecting its places.
Your grandfather was a keeper without knowing it. Now you're
being asked to be one too, but with full knowledge.
The question is will you accept Edgar's initiation into the

(42:08):
Keepers revealed an organization far more sophisticated than he had imagined.
It wasn't just a handful of locals protecting a legend.
It was a network that included scientists, government officials, indigenous
knowledge holders, and even some surprising corporate allies. The Keepers
met quarterly at different locations throughout the mountains, always places

(42:30):
of no particular significance to avoid drawing attention Edgar's first
meeting was held in the back room of a hardware
store in Bakersville, with about twenty people in attendance. He
was surprised to recognize several faces, a prominent geologist from UNC,
a senior ranger from the Blue Ridge Parkway, the owner
of a major outdoor equipment retailer, and even a state senator.

(42:54):
Rachel standing Deer, as the informal elder of the group,
explained their evolution started as individuals who had encountered the
Boojum and recognized our responsibility to protect it. Over time,
we realized that protection required more than secrecy. It required
active management of both land and information. We've become conservationists, lobbyists,

(43:16):
spreaders of misinformation when necessary, and guardians of one of
the last true mysteries in an overmapped world. The Keepers
had developed sophisticated strategies land protection. They identified key areas
of Boojum habitat and worked to protect them through various means,
conservation easements, strategic purchases by sympathetic organizations, designation as archaeological

(43:41):
or ecological study areas. They had prevented three major resort
developments and two mining operations in the last decade alone.
They monitored online forums, social media, and research publications for
any mention of genuine Boojum evidence. When necessary, they would
flood these channels with fall information, blurry fake photos, and

(44:02):
contradictory citing reports to discredit real encounters. Several Keepers were
respected scientists who conducted legitimate research that coincidentally helped understand
and protect the Boojum's habitat. Studies on forest ecology, mineral distribution,
and climate change impacts all provided valuable data without ever
mentioning the creature. They had created an entire economy around

(44:26):
the legend of the Boojum that actually funded real protection efforts.
The annual Boojum Festival, for instance, raised hundreds of thousands
of dollars, much of which went to land conservation. Under
the guise of preserving the mystery, Cherokee members of the
Keeper's worked to maintain traditional knowledge about the creature while
carefully controlling what information became public. They taught younger generations

(44:50):
the old boundaries and respect protocols without explicitly confirming the
Boojum's existence. But the keepers also faced challenges development. The
pressure was intensifying as more people moved to the mountains
seeking escape from cities. Climate change was altering the landscape
in unpredictable ways. Stay tuned for more Backwoods Bigfoot stories.

(45:12):
We'll be back. After these messages, and most concerning, there
were signs that the Boujum itself was struggling. Reports from
various keepers painted a troubling picture. The Boujam's behavior had
changed dramatically in recent years. Where once it had maintained
multiple territory sites across the mountains, it now seemed confined

(45:33):
to a smaller range. Its gem cases, previously numerous and
widely distributed, had been consolidated into just a few heavily
protected locations. Doctor Michael Raven, a wildlife biologist and keeper,
had been tracking indirect signs of the Boojum for fifteen years.
The scat samples we've managed to collect show nutritional stress.

(45:56):
Its diet has shifted less diverse, more dependent on human
subsidized food sources like crops from abandoned homesteads and fruit
from old orchards. The track pattern suggests possible lameness or
injury on the left side. Most concerning, we haven't found
any evidence of young. If there was ever a breeding population,

(46:16):
it seems to be down to a single individual. Now.
This raised profound questions for the keepers. Were they protecting
a species or an individual? If the latter, what was
their responsibility when that individual eventually died. Should they be
doing more than just protecting habitat? Should they be actively
providing support. The debate split the keepers. Some, like Rachel's

(46:40):
Standing Deer, believe their role was simply to provide space
and privacy. The Boojum has survived hundreds, maybe thousands of years.
It doesn't need our help, just our absence. Others, particularly
the younger members, argued for more active intervention. Sarah Blackwood,
Margaret Blackwood's DAWs and now a conservation biologist proposed a

(47:03):
radical plan. We could establish feeding stations in remote areas,
provide medical care if needed, even explore the possibility of
finding or creating others of its kind through genetic technology.
We have the knowledge and resources. The question is whether
we have the right Edgar found himself caught in the
middle of this debate. His scientific training inclined him toward intervention,

(47:27):
but his grandfather's journals counseled restraint. The Boojum had chosen
to reveal itself to him, but what did it want? Protection,
help or simply acknowledgment. The winner of twenty twenty four
to twenty twenty five was one of the harshest and
recent memory. An unusual weather pattern brought arctic air deep
into the South, with temperatures in the North Carolina Mountains

(47:49):
dropping below zero for weeks at a time. Snow accumulated
to depths not seen in decades, making many mountain areas
completely inaccessible. It was during this harsh winter that the
Boojam made what many keepers considered its most decisive communication
with humanity. On December twenty first, the winter solstice, five
different keepers in five different locations found the same thing,

(48:13):
a carefully arranged collection of gems, emerald, ruby, garnet, sapphire,
and quartz, forming a perfect circle. In the center of
each circle was a stone carved with symbols. When the
keepers compared notes, they realized the stones, when brought together,
formed a map. The map led to a cave system

(48:34):
near Mount Mitchell, the highest peak east of the Mississippi.
It was an area the keepers had long suspected was
important to the Boojum, but had never been able to confirm.
A small team including Edgar Rachel, Standing Deer, and doctor Raven,
made the difficult journey through the snow to investigate. What
they found changed everything. The cave was more than a shelter,

(48:58):
it was a chronicle. The walls were covered with carved symbols, images,
and what could only be described as art. The carving
showed the history of the mountains from the Boujam's perspective,
the arrival of the first humans, the Cherokee period, the
coming of Europeans, the devastation of the forests, the gradual
protection and recovery. But most remarkably, the newest carvings showed

(49:21):
the keepers themselves, recognizable figures engaged in their protection efforts.
It knows us, Rachel whispered, it's been watching us as
much as we've been protecting it. But the most significant
discovery was at the back of the cave. There, in
a chamber filled with the most magnificent gems any of
them had ever seen. The Boujam had created what appeared

(49:43):
to be a message. Gems were arranged to form symbols that,
when Rachel translated them, using her knowledge of Cherokee and
the patterns they'd observed, seemed to say time ends, gift remains,
thank you. The keepers debated fiercely about the meaning of them. Message.
Was the Boojum dying leaving simply acknowledging the end of

(50:05):
an era. They maintained extra vigilance through the winter, but
there were no sightings, no new signs, nothing but the
howling wind and the mounting snow. Spring came late to
the mountains in twenty twenty five. It wasn't until April
that the snow finally melted enough to access the higher elevations.
It was then that hikers began to report something extraordinary.

(50:27):
Gems were appearing on trails throughout the mountains, not just
any gems, but stones of exceptional quality. Placed deliberately on
rocks beside popular paths. The gems appeared at sunrise, always
on well traveled trails where they would certainly be found.
Each was accompanied by a small stone carved with a
simple symbol that Rachel identified as meaning gift or sharing.

(50:52):
Within two weeks, hundreds of gems had been distributed across
the mountains. The keepers understood this as a final dispersal
of the Boojum's collection, but they disagreed about its meaning.
Some saw it as a farewell gift, others as an
invitation for greater connection. Edgar had his own theory, what
if this isn't an ending but a transformation. The Boojum

(51:15):
survived the destruction of the old forest by adapting, by
becoming more elusive. Now faced with the world where true
hiding is impossible, maybe it's adapting again, becoming not a
hidden creature but an acknowledged mystery, a known unknown. His
theory gained credence when the gems were analyzed. Each stone,

(51:36):
regardless of type, contained trace elements that didn't match any
known geological formation in North Carolina or anywhere else. The
gems were real, but they were also impossible, a paradox
that scientists couldn't explain and thus couldn't dismiss as I
record this in our tiny home nestled in the woods
of North Carolina in September twenty twenty five. The Boojem

(51:59):
has not been definitively seen since Edgar's encounter over a
year ago, but its presence is felt more strongly than ever.
The distributed gems have become talismans for thousands of people,
each carrying a piece of an ancient mystery. The cave
chronicle has been carefully documented but kept secret, a treasure
trove of information that may take decades to fully understand.

(52:22):
The keepers continue their work, though their role has evolved.
They no longer protect just a creature, but an idea,
the idea that some mysteries are worth preserving, that not
everything needs to be captured, categorized, and commodified. They've expanded
their conservation efforts, protecting not just the Boojum's habitat, but

(52:43):
the entire ecosystem of mystery that allows such creatures to
exist in our imagination, if not in our reality. Edgar
Whitman has become something of a reluctant spokesperson for this philosophy.
He still practices geology, but now he also teaches courses
on the nation of science and mystery, arguing that acknowledging

(53:03):
the unknown doesn't diminish scientific inquiry, but enriches it. Science
is about questions, not just answers. He tells his students,
the Boojum, whether it exists as a physical creature or
as a cultural phenomenon, asks us important questions. What is
our relationship with the wild? What do we lose when
we eliminate all mystery? How do we balance knowledge with wisdom?

(53:28):
The North Carolina Mountains remain much as they have for
millions of years, ancient, worn, hiding their secrets in mist
and shadow. The tourists still come seeking the Boojum, buying
t shirts and postcards, hiking the trails where sightings have
been reported. Most will never find what they're looking for,
but perhaps that's the point. For those who know where

(53:50):
to look, who understand the old boundaries and the new accommodations.
There are signs that the story continues, a perfectly balanced
stack of stones where none will, as before, a path
through the rhododendron that wasn't there yesterday, the glimpse of
something large and brown moving through the trees just at
the edge of vision, and sometimes for the very fortunate

(54:12):
or the very patient, a gift of stone that carries
the weight of ages and the promise of mysteries yet
to be revealed. The Boojum of North Carolina remains what
it has always been, a bridge between the known and unknown,
the scene and unseen, the world we've mapped and measured,
and the one that exists forever just beyond our reach.

(54:34):
In an age where satellites can photograph every square inch
of Earth and DNA can be extracted from the air,
the Boojum reminds us that there are still spaces for wonder,
still room for creatures that exist in the liminal spaces
between fact and legend. Whether you choose to believe in
the Boojum as a physical creature, a cultural construct, or

(54:54):
something in between, its impact is undeniable. It has protected
thousands of acres of wilderness, inspired countless people to look
more closely at the natural world, and created a community
of protectors who understand that some things are more valuable
than proof. The mountains keep their secrets, and the Boojum,
whatever it truly is, remains free, a wild thing in

(55:18):
an increasingly tamed world, a mystery in an age of answers,
a reminder that no matter how much we think we know,
there will always be something watching from the shadows, collecting
its gems, living by rules we don't fully understand, and occasionally,
just occasionally, choosing to reveal itself to those it deems

(55:38):
worthy of the truth. And perhaps that's the greatest gift
of all, not the gem scattered on the trails, not
the glimpses of something impossible, but the knowledge that in
these ancient mountains, mystery still lives, still breathes, and still
has stories to tell for those willing to listen. The
Boojum's story doesn't end here. It continues every time fog

(56:02):
rolls through a mountain valley, every time a hiker finds
an unusual stone, every time someone looks at these worn
old mountains and wonders what secrets they still hold. It
continues in the protection of wild places, in the preservation
of indigenous knowledge, in the recognition that our world is
large enough to contain both the known and the unknowable.

(56:24):
And somewhere in the North Carolina Mountains, in a cave
decorated with the history of ages, or in a grove
of ancient trees that have never felt the bite of
a saw, or perhaps in a place we haven't even
imagined yet, something watches and waits, It collects its gems,
tends its forest gardens, and preserves mysteries that stretch back

(56:45):
to when these mountains were young and the world was
full of wonders. The Boujam endures as the mountains endure,
as mystery itself endures, patient, eternal, and forever, just beyond
our grasp, reminding us that the world is far stranger
and more wonderful than we dare to believe. Now that
you've heard this tale in its entirety, a word of caution,

(57:07):
or perhaps invitation is warranted. What you've just experienced weaves
together threads of folklore, personal testimony, and claims that have
never been independently verified. The story of the Boojum exists
in that twilight space between legend and reality, where truth
and tale become indistinguishable in the Mountain mist. The organization

(57:30):
known as the Keepers, who supposed activities feature prominently in
this narrative, has never been officially documented. No meeting minutes
exist in any archive, no membership roles can be found,
no financial records trace their claimed conservation efforts. Those who
speak of the keepers do so in whispers in back
rooms of diners and hardware stores, in places where stories

(57:54):
flow as freely as coffee, and verification is considered somewhat
beside the point. Whether they represent a real network of protectors,
a collection of unconnected individuals who share similar experiences, or
merely a compelling fiction that has taken root in the
fertile soil of Appalachian storytelling is for you to determine. Similarly,

(58:16):
the encounters described herein, from the Cherokee oral traditions to
the modern sidings, come to us through a haze of memory, interpretation,
and perhaps elaboration. Some are drawn from historical documents whose
authors believed what they wrote. Others emerge from those gray
areas where personal experience meets the human need to make

(58:37):
sense of the inexplicable. We present them not as facts
to be accepted, but as pieces of a puzzle that
may or may not form a complete picture. The North
Carolina Mountains themselves are real enough, ancient, beautiful, and still
holding pockets of wilderness where anything might hide. The gems
are certainly real. You can visit Franklin and see them

(58:59):
for yourself. The folklore is real in its own way,
passed down through generations of mountain families who knew that
some stories are true, whether they happened or not. As
for the Boojum itself, that hair covered collector of gems,
that impossible presence in a mapped world, well that's between
you and whatever you choose to believe. Weigh the evidence,

(59:22):
such as it is, consider the possibilities, and remember that
in these old mountains, where morning fog can turn a
tree stump into a bear and shadows dance in ways
that defy explanation, the line between the real and the
imagined has always been as fluid as a mountain stream.
Perhaps that's the true gift of the Boojum, not the

(59:42):
gems allegedly scattered on mountain trails, not the thrilling possibility
of an undiscovered creature, but the reminder that in our
age of satellites and DNA sequencing, there's still room for mystery.
Whether that mystery walks on two legs through the rhododendron thickets,
or is this only in the stories we tell each
other on dark mountain nights, is a question each listener

(01:00:05):
must answer for themselves. The mountains keep their secrets. Make
of them what you will never