SO EP:673 The Florida Skunk Ape

In this episode, we’re heading deep into the muggy heart of Florida — into the swamps, forests, and backroads most people only see from the safety of an airboat. Out here, under the cover of night and cypress moss, something moves through the shadows. Something big. Something that hundreds of people claim to have seen over the last two centuries — but science still refuses to acknowledge.

We’re talking about the Florida Skunk Ape — the Sunshine State’s answer to Bigfoot, and one of the most unsettling mysteries still hiding in America’s wilderness.You might think Florida’s too developed for anything unknown to stay hidden. But across generations, the reports haven’t stopped. Law enforcement officers, hunters, families, and veterans have all described seeing the same thing: a massive, hair-covered figure with glowing red eyes and a smell so strong it made their stomachs turn.

These aren’t campfire tales — they’re official reports, eyewitness accounts, and in some cases, physical evidence collected by people who had everything to lose and nothing to gain by speaking up.

We’ll explore nearly 200 years of sightings and encounters, from frontier settlers in the early 1800s who described “man-sized monkeys” raiding fishing camps, to the terrifying 1929 incident at the Perky Bat Tower, where something powerful enough to shake a thirty-foot structure drove out every bat inside. We’ll look at the case of two Palm Beach County deputies in the 1970s — both seasoned outdoorsmen — who came face to face with a seven-foot creature while investigating livestock attacks. 

They even recovered hair samples caught on a barbed wire fence. You’ll also hear about the Vietnam veteran who, in 1977, watched an eight-foot creature emerge from the mangroves behind his home and was so shaken that he cleared thirty feet of brush from around his property just to sleep at night. And then there are the photographs. In 2000, an elderly woman in Sarasota County sent two chilling images to the sheriff’s office, showing what appeared to be a reddish-brown, ape-like creature crouched behind her backyard. 

The so-called Myakka Photos are still being analyzed and debated over two decades later.We’ll talk about Dave Shealy, the man who’s dedicated his life to proving the Skunk Ape exists — running his Skunk Ape Research Headquarters in the heart of the Everglades. His 2000 video footage of a creature running through the swamp is still one of the most-watched cryptid videos online. But this episode goes deeper than the sightings.

We’re asking why so many people — trained law enforcement officers, hunters, and locals — believe they’ve seen something that modern science says shouldn’t exist. We’ll dive into the psychology, the skepticism, the cultural roots of the legend, and even the Seminole people’s stories of Esti Capcaki, the “tall hairy man” that predates European settlement by centuries.

By the end of this episode, you’ll feel the humid air, hear the buzz of the swamp at night, and maybe understand why so many Floridians won’t step foot into certain parts of the wilderness after dark. This isn’t just another campfire tale. This is a journey through real encounters, credible witnesses, and the enduring mystery of something hiding out there in the heart of Florida’s wild places.

Whether you’re a believer, a skeptic, or somewhere in between, this episode might just make you slow down a little the next time you’re driving through the backroads of the Everglades after sunset — especially if you see a pair of glowing eyes staring back at you from the tree line.This is the episode the swamp doesn’t want you to hear.

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Now one of your pudding. I got a string going
on here, something just because my dog. Something killed your dog,
my dog. We're flying through the or over the tree.
I don't know how it did it, Okay, Damn, I'm
really confused. All I saw was my dog coming over
the fence and he was dead. And once you hit
the ground like, I didn't see any cars. All I
saw was my dog coming over the fence. Sat what

(00:38):
are you putting? We got some wonder or something crawling
around out here? Did you see what it was?

Speaker 2 (00:51):
Or was it was?

Speaker 1 (00:52):
Standing enough? I'm out here looking through the window now
and I don't see anything. I don't want to go outside.
Jesus quice, you better hello, hit the body out here?
What quin on out there? I thought of a bitch
about tick nine? I don't know easy out there? Yeah,
I'm right head.

Speaker 3 (01:12):
Picture this.

Speaker 4 (01:13):
It's three in the morning in the heart of the
Florida Everglades. The air is thick, humid, pressing against your
skin like a warm, wet blanket. The chorus of frogs
and insects that normally fills the night has suddenly gone silent,
and I mean completely silent. Not a cricket, not a
splash in the water. Nothing, just an oppressive, unnatural quiet

(01:36):
that makes your heart start pounding in your chest. Then
you smell it. At first, you think maybe it's a
dead animal nearby, or perhaps the sulfurous stink of swamp gas.

Speaker 3 (01:47):
But this is different. This smell is aggressive.

Speaker 4 (01:50):
It assaults your nostrils with the combined stench of rotten eggs,
moldy cheese, feces, and something else, something wild, something that
doesn't belong in any or nature documentary you've ever seen.
Your flashlight beam cuts through the darkness, illuminating the sawgrass
and cypress trees, searching for the source, and then just

(02:11):
at the edge of your light you see them. Two eyes, large, reflective,
burning red in your flashlight's glare. They're at least seven
feet off the ground, staring directly at you with an
intelligence that makes your blood run cold. That's when you
realize those eyes belong to something standing upright, something massive,

(02:32):
something that shouldn't exist according to every biology textbook ever written.
And that, my friends, is your introduction to the Florida
skunk Ape. Now I know what you're thinking. You're thinking,
come on, there's no way something like bigfoot could exist
in Florida. We're talking about one of the most populated
states in America. Someone would have found definitive proof by now.

(02:55):
There'd be bodies, bones, clear photographs, DNA evidence, and you'd
be right to be skeptical.

Speaker 3 (03:02):
I was too.

Speaker 4 (03:04):
Florida isn't the dense, endless forests of the Pacific Northwest
where sasquatch supposedly roams. We're talking about a state where
strip malls and retirement communities have swallowed up wilderness at
an alarming rate, Where airboats full of tourists cruised through
the Everglades every single day, Where millions of people live
within driving distance of every swamp and forest in the state.

Speaker 3 (03:27):
But here's the thing.

Speaker 4 (03:28):
You can't deny the eyewitness accounts, hundreds of them spanning
almost two centuries. Hunters, fishermen, law enforcement officers, families, children, tourists,
park rangers, people from all walks of life, many of
whom had nothing to gain and everything to lose by
coming forward with their stories. People who didn't want attention,

(03:48):
who didn't want to be ridiculed or called crazy, And
yet they spoke up anyway because they knew what they saw,
they knew what they smelled, and they knew it would
haunt them for the rest of their lifeves This is
their story. This is the story of the Florida skunk Ape.
And I promise you by the time we're done here,
you'll be looking at Florida's wilderness in a very different way.

(04:11):
Before we dive into the modern encounters, the photographs, the videos,
and the investigations, we need to go back, way back,
because the skunk Ape isn't just some modern myth born
from fuzzy photographs and campfire stories. This creature has been
part of Florida's landscape for centuries, woven into the very
fabric of the land. Long before European settlers ever set

(04:34):
foot on these shores. The Seminole people called it esti caapcaki.
Translated roughly, it means tall, hairy man or furry giant,
but the translation doesn't capture the weight those words carry
in Seminole culture. This wasn't a boogeyman story told to
frighten children into behaving. The stikapcaki was real to them.

(04:56):
It was part of their world, as real as the
alligators in the sw and the panthers in the forests.
According to Seminole oral tradition passed down through generations. The
st Kapkaki was a powerful, secretive creature that kept to
itself deep in the most remote corners of the Everglades.
It was physically imposing, massively strong, but not inherently aggressive.

(05:19):
Unless provoked or cornered, it would simply vanish into the wilderness,
moving through terrain that would be impassable for any human
and critically, the Seminole accounts always mentioned the smell, that unforgettable,
nauseating odor that announced the creature's presence long before it
was seen. Some elders suggested the smell was a defense mechanism,

(05:41):
a way to warn intruders away without confrontation. Others believed
it was simply the natural musk of a creature that
spent its entire existence in the humid, rotting vegetation of
the swamps. The Seminoles weren't the only ones who knew
about this creature. The Mikosuki people, who are closely related
to the Seminole and have lived in southern Florida for centuries,

(06:03):
also have stories of a tall, hairy man creature that
stalks the wetlands. These independent accounts from separate indigenous nations
all describing the same basic creature should give us pause.
When multiple cultures, separated by distance and with no reason
to collaborate on a hoax, all report the same phenomenon,

(06:24):
it's worth paying attention. But the indigenous people of Florida
kept their knowledge of the st Kapcaki relatively quiet when
Europeans arrived. They had learned through brutal experience that white
settlers weren't interested in their stories, their knowledge, or their warnings,
So the Seminoles and Mikosuke kept their encounters with the
tall hairy man to themselves, shared only within their communities,

(06:48):
while the new settlers blundered into the wilderness, ignorant of
what might be watching them from the shadows. The year
was eighteen eighteen. Florida was still Spanish territory, though that
would soon change. The United States was eyeing this wild,
untamed peninsula with increasing interest, and small settlements of American
settlers were beginning to pop up along the coast. One

(07:11):
such settlement was growing around what would eventually become Appalachicola
on Florida's Panhandle. The local newspaper, one of the very
few publications in what was essentially frontier territory ran a
story that would be the first documented written account of
what we now call the Skunk Ape. The article described
something the settlers called man sized monkeys that were raiding

(07:34):
food stores and stalking fishermen along the shore. Now, I
want you to understand how significant this is. This was
eighteen eighteen. There were no tabloids sensationalizing stories for clicks.
There was no internet spreading rumors. These were frontier people
trying to warn their neighbors about a genuine threat. They

(07:54):
were losing food, which in a frontier settlement could mean
the difference between surviving the wind or not. Fishermen were
reporting that something large and upright was following them, watching
them from the tree line. The newspaper article didn't treat
this as folklore or legend. It was reported as news
as fact, as something the community needed to be aware

(08:16):
of and prepared for. These man sized monkeys were a
real problem and the settlement had to deal with them.

Speaker 3 (08:23):
But what were they really?

Speaker 4 (08:25):
Florida has black bears, certainly, but anyone who's lived around
black bears knows they're not man sized monkeys. They don't
stalk people with the calculated patients described in the article,
and they definitely don't raid food stores in the methodical
way described. No, the settlers of early Appalachicola saw something else,

(08:45):
something that walked upright consistently, something with enough intelligence to
systematically raid food supplies, something that unnerved experienced outdoors men
enough that they felt compelled to warn others in print.
That eighteen eighteen article would be the first of many.
Over the next century, scattered reports would emerge from various

(09:06):
parts of Florida, always describing similar creatures, always noting their
bipedal locomotion, their large size, and frequently mentioning that terrible smell.
Jump forward now to nineteen twenty nine. The Roaring twenties
are in full swing.

Speaker 3 (09:21):
Even in the.

Speaker 4 (09:22):
Remote Florida Keys. A wealthy entrepreneur named Richter Clyde Perki
had built something remarkable on Sugarloaf Key, about fifteen miles northeast.

Speaker 3 (09:31):
Of Key West.

Speaker 4 (09:33):
He called it the Perky Bat Tower, and it was
designed to be a home for thousands of bats who would,
in theory, eat the mosquitoes that plagued the area and
made life miserable for residents and tourists alike. The tower
was an impressive structure, thirty feet tall, built of pine
and cyprus with special compartments designed to house bats. Perky

(09:54):
had imported bats from Texas and released them at the tower,
hoping they'd make it their home. It was an in
genius idea echo friendly pest control, decades before that term
even existed. But something went wrong. Shortly after the tower
was stocked with bats, Something visited it in the night.
The tower operator, a man whose name has unfortunately been

(10:15):
lost to history, was on duty near midnight when the
entire structure began to shake violently. Now this wasn't a
small structure. Thirty feet of pine and cyprus doesn't just
shake on its own. The operator, understandably terrified, grabbed a
lantern and went to investigate what was causing this commotion.
What he saw nearly stopped his heart. Clinging to the

(10:37):
base of the tower was a large, hairy creature unlike
anything he'd ever seen. In the dim light of his lantern,
he could make out an ape like face, a massive
body covered in dark hair, and arms of incredible length
and strength. The creature was shaking the tower, seemingly investigating it,
or perhaps trying to get at the bats inside. When

(11:00):
the lantern light hit it, the creature's eyes reflected back,
glowing in the darkness. Those eyes locked onto the operator
for a moment that probably felt like an eternity. Then,
with shocking speed and agility, the creature dropped from the
tower and fled into the dense mangrove forest, disappearing into
the night. The bats, terrorized by the encounter, fled the

(11:22):
tower as well and never returned. Perky's innovative pest control
system was a failure, and the Perky Bat Tower stands
to this day as a monument to both architectural ambition
and perhaps an unexpected encounter with Florida's most elusive resident.
Now skeptics might say, well, maybe it was just a bear.

(11:42):
Bears can climb, but bears in the Florida Keys in
nineteen twenty nine. The Florida Keys are a chain of
small islands connected by bridges and causeways. Black bears don't
swim from island to island, especially not through marine waters
that might contain sharks and other predators, And more importantly,
bears don't have the hand like paws necessary to grip

(12:05):
a wooden structure the way this creature was described gripping
the tower no, The tower operator saw something else that night,
something that would be seen again and again throughout Florida
over the coming decades. Fast forward to nineteen forty two.
The world is at war, but even war seems distant
in the rural back roads of Sewanee County, Florida, in

(12:27):
the eastern part of the state's panhandle. This is farming country,
cattle country, where the roads are still mostly unpaved and
the wilderness presses in close on all sides. Late one night,
a man was driving down an isolated road, probably heading
home after a long day of work. The details of
his identity have been lost or deliberately withheld to protect

(12:48):
his privacy, but his story has been preserved in local
newspaper accounts and county records. He was driving at a
moderate speed, maybe thirty or forty miles per hour, when
something burst from the tree line directly.

Speaker 3 (13:01):
Ahead of him.

Speaker 4 (13:03):
In his headlights, he caught a glimpse of something massive
and hairy, rushing toward his vehicle. Before he could react,
before he could break or swerve, the creature grabbed onto
the running board of his car. Now, for those of
you too young to remember running boards, these were metal
steps that ran along the side of old cars used
to help people climb into the high chassis vehicles of

(13:24):
that era. They weren't designed to support a passenger, especially
not one traveling at speed. But this creature held on,
and it wasn't content.

Speaker 3 (13:33):
To just hitch a ride.

Speaker 4 (13:35):
It began pounding on the door, hammering at the window
while the driver's tearor mounted with each passing second. Imagine it,
You're alone on a dark road and something impossibly strong
is trying to get into your vehicle while you're moving.
The sound of those impacts must have been deafening. The
whole car must have been rocking with the force of
the blows. The driver did the only thing he could do.

(13:57):
He accelerated, pushing his car as fast as just as
it would go on that rough road, hoping speed would
dislodge his unwonted passenger, and it worked after a fashion.
After nearly half a mile of this nightmare ride, the
creature finally let go, dropping from the running board and
disappearing into the woods with a speed that seemed impossible
for something so large. When the driver finally got home,

(14:21):
he found deep dents in his car, door, scratches in
the paint, evidence that this hadn't been a hallucination or
a trick of the light. Something real, something physical, something powerful,
had grabbed onto his car and tried to get inside.
He reported the incident to local authorities, who investigated but
found nothing. The woods where the creature had vanished were thick,

(14:43):
almost impenetrable. Whatever had accosted this driver was long gone,
leaving behind only a terrified witness and a damaged vehicle
as proof that something had happened on that dark road.
Now we come to one of the more sustained periods
of skunk ape activity, taking place in a small community
called Barden in Putnam County, Florida. Stay tuned for more

(15:06):
sasquatch ott to see.

Speaker 3 (15:07):
We'll be right back after these messages.

Speaker 4 (15:14):
Starting in the nineteen forties and continuing through the next
several years, residents of this rural area began reporting encounters
with what they came to call the Barden Booger. The
name might sound almost comical, but the encounters were anything but.
Multiple families reported seeing a large, hairy, ape like creature
moving through the area. It was spotted at the edges

(15:35):
of properties, crossing roads, and moving through the forests with
an unsettling familiarity, as if it knew the area well.
One particularly unsettling account comes from a woman who was
horseback riding through the Barden forest. She noticed what she
initially thought was a tall man wearing a long raincoat
standing in the tree line ahead. As she got closer,

(15:58):
she realized this wasn't a man at all. The raincoat
was actually fur long and shaggy covering a massive body.
The creature didn't run when it saw her. Instead, it
simply stepped back into the deeper forest, maintaining eye contact
with her the whole time, moving with a deliberate, almost
casual confidence. Her horse, meanwhile, was going absolutely frantic, trying

(16:22):
to bolt its eyes, rolling white with fear. Horses with
their prey animal instincts, know when they're in the presence
of a predator, and this horse was convinced it was
about to die. The woman managed to control her mount
long enough to retreat at a quick trot, not quite running,
but definitely not lingering. When she reported the encounter to

(16:43):
other locals, she found that she wasn't the only one.
Multiple other residents had seen the Barden Booger. Some had
seen it crossing roads late at night, others had found
massive footprints in soft earth tracks that didn't match any
known animal in Florida. Still, others reported hearing strange vocalizations
in the night, howls and screams that didn't sound like

(17:05):
any panther, or bear or owl. The Barden Booger sidings
continued sporadically through the late nineteen forties and into the
nineteen fifties, establishing Putnam County as one of the early
hot spots for skunk ape activity. To this day, locals
in that area will tell you they don't go into
certain parts of the Barden forest alone, especially not at night.

(17:28):
Old stories die hard in rural Florida, and the memory
of the Barden Booger keeps people cautious. By the nineteen sixties,
skunk ape sidings were becoming more common, or at least
more commonly reported. Perhaps people were becoming more willing to
share their experiences. Perhaps the creatures were being pushed out
of their usual territories by development. Whatever the reason, the

(17:51):
accounts were multiplying, and they were getting more detailed, more frightening.
One of the most chilling encounters from this era took
place in nineteen six sixty three in a rural area
of central Florida, likely in Elicha or Marion County, a
family whose names have been protected for privacy, began experiencing
something that would terrorize them for weeks. It started with sounds.

Speaker 3 (18:15):
Late at night.

Speaker 4 (18:16):
They would hear heavy footfalls around their property, circling their home.
At first, they thought it might be a bear, or
perhaps trespassing neighbors, but bears don't walk with such a
consistent bipedal gait, and neighbors don't systematically circle a house
for hours at a time. Then came the smell, that terrible,
overwhelming stench that seemed to seep into everything. It would

(18:39):
arrive with no warning, announced only by the sudden silence
of the night creatures. The family would be sitting in
their living room and suddenly the smell would assault them,
so strong.

Speaker 3 (18:50):
They could barely breathe.

Speaker 4 (18:52):
The father, determined to protect his family and identify the
source of these disturbances, began keeping watch at night with
his hunting rifle, and that's when he finally saw it.
Standing at the tree line, just at the edge of
the light from his porch, was a figure. It stood
at least seven feet tall, covered in dark hair, with
broad shoulders and long arms. It was watching his house,

(19:15):
studying it with an intelligence that was deeply unnerving. The
father shouted at it, raising his rifle, and the creature
simply melted back into the darkness without hurry, without fear,
as if it knew it could vanish faster than any.

Speaker 3 (19:28):
Bullet could reach it.

Speaker 4 (19:30):
But the most terrifying incident came one night when the
family was inside, doors and windows locked. One of the children,
a young girl, was in her bedroom when she heard
a sound at her window. She looked over and nearly screamed.
There pressed against the glass was a face, not a
human face, but something close to it. Large dark eyes

(19:53):
stared at her with unsettling focus, a flat nose, a
wide mouth, all framed by mad dark hair. The creature
was standing upright outside her window, which was on the
second floor of the house. Think about that for a moment.
To look into a second story window, this thing had
to be at least eight feet tall, possibly more, And

(20:15):
it wasn't just glancing in. It was studying her, examining
the inside of the house, perhaps trying to understand these
strange beings that had built structures in its territory. The
girl finally screamed, and the father came running with his rifle.
By the time he reached the window, the creature was gone,
but he could hear something large crashing through the underbrush

(20:37):
at incredible speed. The next morning, they found handprints on
the window, pressed into the dust and pollen that had
accumulated on the glass. The prints were enormous, with fingers
that were too long, too thick to be human. After
that night, the father kept watch every evening until well
passed midnight. The family considered moving, selling the property, and

(20:59):
getting away from whatever was out there in the woods,
but eventually the encounters stopped as suddenly as they had begun.
Whether the creature moved on to other territory or simply
lost interest in the family, they never knew, but the
memory of those nights, especially the memory of that face
at the window, stayed with them forever. The nineteen seventies were,

(21:21):
without question, the golden age of skunk ape sidings. Something
was happening in Florida during this decade. Maybe it was
increased development pushing the creatures out of their traditional habitats.
Maybe it was simply that more people were venturing into
wilderness areas and therefore having more opportunities for encounters, or
maybe the skunk epe population itself was growing, expanding into

(21:44):
new territories. Whatever the cause, the reports flooded in from
across the state, particularly in South Florida. Broward County, home
to Fort Lauderdale, became a major hotspot. From nineteen seventy
one to nineteen seventy five, dozens of people reported encounters
with a creature matching the skunk ape description, standing five

(22:05):
to seven feet tall, covered in dark red to black fur,
moving on two legs with unsettling speed and agility. Many
of these sightings were nocturnal, with witnesses reporting glowing red
eyes in their flashlight beams. The reflective quality of the
eyes suggested a tapatum leucitum, a layer of tissue behind
the retina that reflects light and improves night vision. It's

(22:28):
common in many nocturnal animals like cats, deer, and alligators,
but it's notably absent in great apes and humans. If
the skunk ape has this feature, it suggests something evolutionarily
distinct from other primates, something adapted specifically for a life
in dark, dense forest and swamp environments. But the most

(22:49):
significant events of the nineteen seventies were yet to come,
and they would involve law enforcement putting an official stamp
of credibility on the phenomenon that was impossible to ignore.
It was the mid nineteen seventies in Palm Beach County,
home to wealthy beach communities but also vast areas of
agricultural land and remaining wilderness. Two sheriffs Deputies Marvin Lewis

(23:13):
and Ernie Milner, were on patrol one evening when they
received the call that would change their lives and their
understanding of what was possible in the Florida wilderness. A
farmer had reported something attacking his livestock, and the descriptions
were bizarre enough that the deputies figured they'd be dealing
with either wild dogs or a particularly aggressive bear. They

(23:33):
certainly weren't prepared for what actually happened. The deputies arrived
at the property and began investigating, checking the tree line
with their powerful flashlights. The night was quiet, almost too quiet,
and then suddenly it wasn't. Something began following them through
a grove of trees, pacing them, staying just at the

(23:54):
edge of their light. Both deputies were experienced outdoorsmen. They'd
been in these situations before, usually with bears or feral hogs,
but this was different. Whatever was following them was staying upright,
moving through the vegetation with a calculated stealth that bears
simply don't possess, and the sounds it was making, breathing heavily,

(24:15):
occasionally letting out low grunts, didn't match anything in their experience.
Deputy Lewis called out, identifying themselves as law enforcement, ordering
whatever it was to show itself. The response was a
sound that neither deputy would ever forget, a roar, deep
and powerful that seemed to come from a chest cavity

(24:36):
much larger than any humans. It was a sound of challenge,
of warning, of raw power.

Speaker 3 (24:42):
And then they saw it.

Speaker 4 (24:44):
Stepping into the beam of Deputy Milner's flashlight, was a
creature that shouldn't exist, seven feet tall, covered in dark hair,
with arms that hung past its knees. Its face was
illuminated for just a moment, showing features that were disturbingly
close to human but undeniably other. And the smell, that
terrible smell hit them like a physical wave. Both deputies

(25:08):
drew their service weapons. Deputy Lewis fired three shots into
the air, hoping to scare the creature away. Instead, it
simply turned and crashed into the brush with a speed
that seemed physically impossible for something so large. The deputies
followed the sounds of its retreat, their hearts pounding, their
training warring with their instinct to run in the opposite direction.

(25:31):
They found a trail through the vegetation, marking where the
creature had burst through, and there caught on a barbed
wire fence that had been pushed down as if it
were made of paper, were tufts of dark red hair.
The deputies collected the hair, carefully preserving it as evidence,
and followed a trail of massive footprints into deeper swamp.

(25:52):
The tracks were incredible, approximately eighteen inches long and seven
inches wide. They showed clear impressions of toes heeled, and
even what appeared to be a partial handprint where the
creature might have braced itself while jumping over an obstacle.
The depth of the tracks suggested something weighing at least
four hundred pounds, possibly more. The deputy's report was official,

(26:15):
documented in county records. The hair samples were sent for analysis,
though the results were inconclusive. The samples were too degraded
to provide definitive identification, showing only that they came from
a large mammal species unknown. But Lewis and Milner knew
what they'd seen. Two trained law enforcement officers, both with

(26:36):
spotless records, both with years of experience in the field,
had come face to face with something that officially didn't exist.
Their story lent enormous credibility to the Skunk eight phenomenon.
These weren't kids pranking each other around a campfire. These
weren't attention seeking hoaxers. These were professional peace officers who
had nothing to gain and potentially their careers to lose

(26:59):
by reporting such an encounter. And yet they reported it
anyway because they knew what they'd experienced was real. July fourteenth,
nineteen seventy seven, the date is burned into Charles Stockman's memory.
A former police officer and Vietnam War veteran, Stokeman was
not a man who scared easily. He'd seen combat, He'd

(27:21):
worked dangerous streets as a cop. He thought he'd seen
everything life could throw at him.

Speaker 3 (27:26):
He was wrong.

Speaker 4 (27:27):
Stockman and his thirteen year old son, Charlie were out
collecting bottles in the mangroves behind their home near Fort Lauderdale.
It was late afternoon, still plenty of light, and they
were wading through shallow water, picking through the trash that
had accumulated among the mangrove roots. A little extra money,
a little father son bonding time, just a normal Florida evening.

(27:49):
Until it wasn't. Young Charlie stopped suddenly, his bottle forgotten,
staring at something in the distance, Dad, what is that?
Stockman looked up and felt his blood turn to ice.
Standing in the water about fifty yards away, partially obscured
by the mangroves, but clearly visible, was something massive. At first,

(28:11):
Stockman's mind tried to rationalize it a person in strange clothes,
a Halloween costume even though it was July. Anything to
make sense of what his eyes were showing him. But
as the creature began to move toward them, wading through
the water with surprising ease, there was no denying what
they were seeing. This thing stood at least eight, possibly

(28:32):
nine feet tall. Its head and shoulders were enormous, out
of proportion even for its massive body. Long matted hair
covered it from head to toe dripping with water and
covered in bits of vegetation, and the smell, even from
fifty yards away, the smell was overwhelming. Stockman described it

(28:52):
later as like a dirty, wet dog, but multiplied by
a factor of one hundred. It was a smell that
triggered every prever instinct in his body, a smell that
screamed danger in a language.

Speaker 3 (29:04):
Older than words.

Speaker 4 (29:05):
The creature opened its mouth and let out a high pitched,
wailing noise, a sound that Stockman said was unlike anything
he'd ever heard. It wasn't quite a scream, wasn't quite
a howl. It was something in between, something alien and disturbing.
The sound echoed across the water, and every bird in
the vicinity took flight in a panic run. Stockman grabbed

(29:28):
his son and they ran, crashing through the mangroves, not
caring about the scratches from the branches or the sucking
mud trying to slow them down.

Speaker 3 (29:36):
Behind them.

Speaker 4 (29:37):
They could hear the creature following its heavy footfall, splashing
through the water, But Stockman had an advantage. He knew
this territory. He knew where the deep water was, where
the thick mud would slow a pursuer down. They made
it back to their house, and Stockman immediately grabbed his rifle,
But when he looked back toward the mangroves, the creature

(29:58):
was gone, just gone, as if it had never been there.
And stay tuned for more sasquatch ott to see, we'll
be right back.

Speaker 3 (30:06):
After these messages.

Speaker 4 (30:11):
Except the smell remained hanging in the humid air like
a physical presence, and that night and for many nights after,
they could smell it around their property, that overpowering stench
that announced the creature's presence even when it remained unseen.
A few days later, Stockman was in his yard when
he heard his neighbor screaming. He ran to see what

(30:32):
was wrong and found her pointing at her shed. Refusing
to go near it, Stockman approached carefully, rifle ready, and
looked under the shed. There, crouched in the darkness, its
eyes reflecting back at him, was a massive shape. The
same creature, or one just like it, was hiding on
his neighbour's property. Stockman called the local police. When they arrived,

(30:55):
the creature was gone, but the officers found enormous tracks
around the shed and in the soft earth of the yard.
They took casts of the footprints and filed an official report,
another law enforcement documentation of something that shouldn't exist but
undeniably did. After that incident, Stockman took drastic action. He

(31:16):
cleared thirty feet of brush around his entire property, creating
an open kill zone where nothing could approach his house unseen.
He kept his rifle loaded and ready, and he installed
bright security lights that bathed his property and artificial daylight
all night long. The effort seemed to work. The creature
or creatures stopped visiting his property, but Stockman never felt

(31:38):
completely safe in that house again. He'd looked into those eyes,
smelled that terrible smell, heard that other worldly wailing. He
knew that there were things in the Florida wilderness that
science couldn't explain, and that guns might not be able
to stop. Years later, in interviews about his experience, Stockman
was adamant, I know what I saw, I know what

(32:00):
my son saw. We didn't imagine it, we didn't mistake
it for something else. That thing was real, as real
as I am. And it's still out there in those swamps,
and God help anyone who runs into it alone. Jump
forward now to the year two thousand, the Internet age
had arrived. Digital cameras were becoming common. You'd think that

(32:22):
with everyone carrying cameras and the ability to instantly share information,
the age of cryptid sightings would be over. Either we'd
get definitive proof, or we'd prove once and for all
that these creatures didn't exist. But then came the Mayaka photographs,
and everything changed. On December twenty second, two thousand, just

(32:43):
three days before Christmas, the Sarasota County Sheriff's Office received
an unusual piece of mail. It was a letter, handwritten, unsigned,
accompanied by two photographs. The author identified herself as an
elderly woman living near Interstate seventy five and the Mayaca River.
What she had to say, and more importantly, what her

(33:04):
photograph showed, would reignite the skunk ape controversy like never before.
The letter read, in part and closed, Please find some
pictures I took. I was awakened late one night by
sounds on my back porch. When I looked out, I
saw this creature. My husband thinks it is an orangutan.
Is someone missing an orangutan? It had been taking apples

(33:27):
from our back porch for three nights. I got my
camera and took these pictures. It froze when the flash
went off. I judge it to be about six and
a half to seven feet tall in a crouching position.
It looked like it was in the process of standing
up from where it was sitting. When I took the
first picture, I heard it walk off into the bushes.
After the second flash, it had an awful smell that

(33:49):
lasted well after it had left my yard. Why haven't
people been told that an animal this size is loose.
I don't want my backyard to turn into someone else's circus.
Please look after this situation, I prefer to remain anonymous.
The photographs were remarkable. They showed a large, reddish brown
creature with a distinctly ape like face crouching among the

(34:12):
palmetto bushes. The first photo showed it in profile, its
mouth slightly open, revealing what appeared to be teeth. The
second photo, taken moments later, showed the creature at a
slightly different angle. Its expression changed, its eyes wide and
reflecting the camera flash with an eerie brilliance. The detail

(34:32):
in these photos was unprecedented for skunk ape evidence. You
could see the texture of the fur matted and dirty.
You could see the shape of the skull with a
prominent brow ridge. You could see the musculature of the
shoulders and arms. This wasn't a blurry blob in the distance.
This was a close up, well lit photograph of something
that looked disturbingly real. The Sarasota Sheriff's Office investigated. They

(34:57):
tried to locate the woman who'd sent the letter, but
she'd given no return address and had remained truly anonymous.
They canvassed the area near Interstate seventy five and the
Mayaca River, a region that includes the vast Miaka River
State Park, one of Florida's largest and wildest protected areas,
but they found nothing. No escaped orangutans reported from any

(35:20):
zoo or private collection, no evidence of a hoax, just
these two incredible photographs. The images went viral before going
viral was even a common phrase. News outlets pick them up.
They appeared on television shows, in newspapers, on websites. Everyone
had an opinion. Skeptics immediately pointed out that the creature

(35:41):
looked suspiciously like a costume. Some noted a resemblance to
a bigfoot statue from a Ripley's Believe It or Not
Museum the angle, They said, the positioning it was all
too perfect, too convenient, But believers pointed out details that
seemed to argue against a hoax. The creature there's expression
changed between the two photos, suggesting genuine surprise and reaction

(36:05):
to the flash. The eyes showed the reflective quality you'd
expect from a nocturnal animal, not the flat reflection you'd
get from a mask, and the hair looked real, not
like synthetic fur. It had the matted, dirty quality you'd
expect from an animal living in the wild, with bits
of vegetation caught in it, staining and discoloration consistent with

(36:26):
an outdoor life. A primate specialist from Japan, Mitsuko Choden,
examined the photographs and declared in a two thousand and
six letter that the subject looked like a known costume,
complete with molded plastic teeth, but she never produced an
example of such a costume, and no one has ever
been able to find a commercially available costume that matches

(36:48):
the creature in the photographs. Meanwhile, renowned cryptozoologist Lauren Coleman
studied the images extensively and concluded that they showed genuine
physical characteristics consistent with a great ape, particularly noting similarities
to orangutans. The facial structure, the way the hair lay
across the body, the proportions of the limbs all argued

(37:10):
for something real rather than a person in a costume.
The debate rages on to this day. The Mayaca Skunk
eight photographs remain one of the most analyzed, discussed, and
controversial pieces of cryptozoological evidence ever produced. They're either proof
that something unknown lives in Florida's wilderness or they're an
elaborate hoax so well executed that it's fooled experts for

(37:33):
over two decades. But here's what we know for certain.
Whoever took those photographs did so in late two thousand
and three nights in a row, while something was stealing
apples from her porch, She reported a terrible smell. She
reported the creature was approximately seven feet tall. She heard
it walking away on two legs after the photographs were taken,

(37:55):
and she was frightened enough to contact law enforcement, but
not interested enough in fame or attention to reveal her identity.
Does that sound like someone perpetrating a hoax? Or does
it sound like someone who had a genuine encounter and
simply wanted authorities to be aware that something dangerous was
loose in her neighborhood. No discussion of the Florida Skunk

(38:15):
Ape would be complete without talking about the Sheeley family,
and in particular, Dave Sheey. If the Skunk Ape has
an ambassador, a champion, a voice, it's Dave Sheeley. But
his story isn't one of sudden belief or convenient conversion.
It's a lifelong obsession, born from a childhood encounter that
would define the rest of his life. The year was

(38:37):
nineteen seventy four. Dave Sheey was ten years old, living
with his family in Achipee, right in the heart of
the Big Cypress National Preserve, one of the wildest, most
remote areas in all of Florida. His father had already
had his own skunk ape encounter years earlier, finding massive
footprints in the swamp that defied explanation, But for young

(38:59):
Dave it was still the stuff of family stories, exciting
but distant, until one day when Dave and his older
brother Jack went deer hunting in the swamp behind their house.
They were walking through tall sawgrass, Jack leading the way.
When Jack suddenly stopped Dave, he whispered, don't move, look
over there. But Dave couldn't see over the grass. He

(39:22):
wasn't tall enough. So Jack did what any older brother
would do. He picked Dave up, lifted him high enough
to see over the grass, and pointed there, about one
hundred yards away. Wading through the swamp was something impossible.
It walked upright like a man, but it was no man.
Even at that distance, even through a ten year old's eyes,

(39:43):
Dave could see it was massive, covered in dark hair,
with arms that seemed too long, shoulders that seemed too broad.
It moved with purpose, like it knew exactly where it
was going, pushing through water that would have slowed any
human to a crawl. The brothers stood frozen, watching, unable
to believe what they were seeing, and then, as if

(40:05):
nature itself wanted to punctuate the moment, the sky opened up.
Rain poured down in sheets, a typical Florida afternoon thunderstorm,
arriving with tropical intensity. By the time they could see
again through the rain, the creature was gone. Dave and
Jack ran home, breathless, excited, terrified. All at once they

(40:28):
told their father what they'd seen, and he believed them.
He'd seen the evidence himself. He knew something lived out
there in that swamp, something science hadn't cataloged, something that
had learned to hide from the encroaching modern world. That
encounter changed Dave Sheeley's life. From that moment on, he
became obsessed.

Speaker 3 (40:48):
With the skunk ape.

Speaker 4 (40:49):
He read everything he could find about Bigfoot, about cryptids,
about zoology and primatology. He learned to track, to read
signs in the wilderness to move silently through the swamp.
He spent hundreds of nights sleeping in tree stands, watching
game trails, hoping for another glimpse, and he got one.
Years later, as an adult, Dave was out in the Everglades,

(41:12):
sitting in a tree stand he'd built overlooking a likely area.
He'd been there for days, patient, silent, waiting, and then
in the late afternoon, he saw it, a skunk ape
moving through the undergrowth below him. It passed so close
he could have dropped a rock on it. He watched,
barely breathing, as it paused to examine something on the ground,

(41:35):
then continued on its way, disappearing into the dense vegetation.
But Dave's most famous encounter came in July two thousand,
just months before the Mayaka photograph surfaced. Dave was out
with his video camera documenting the wildlife of the Everglades.
He'd set up near a hammock of palm trees, a
slightly elevated area of dry ground in the otherwise watery landscape.

(41:59):
He was filled the scenery when movement caught his eye.
There emerging from the palm trees was a skunk ape
Dave's hand started shaking, but he kept the camera rolling.
The footage, which would later become one of the most
viewed cryptid videos on the Internet, shows a large, dark
figure moving through the hammock. At first, it moves slowly,

(42:20):
almost casually. Then at around the one minute forty eight
second mark of the video, the creature suddenly breaks into
a run, as if it's just realized it's being watched.
The way it runs is remarkable, not the loping gate
of a bear, not the awkward shuffle of a person
in a costume. It moves with the fluid, powerful stride

(42:41):
of something built for bipedal locomotion, covering ground with shocking
speed through water, that's at least two feet deep. Dave
estimates it was running at speeds a deer would achieve,
which should be impossible for something so large and bulky.
The video is grainy, shot from hundreds of feet away,
and skeptics have had a field day with it. Some

(43:02):
claim it's a person in a costume. Others suggest it's
a bear, though no bear has ever been documented moving
like that. Still, others accused Dave of hoaxing the whole
thing for attention or profit, but Dave doesn't seem to
care about the skeptics. In nineteen ninety eight, he opened
the Skunk Ape Research Headquarters on his property in Achope.

(43:23):
It's park gift shop, park museum, park campground, and part
legitimate research station. Tourists stop by to buy skunk Ape
t shirts and shot glasses to see the casts of
footprints Dave has collected over the years to hear his
stories and watch his videos. But the research Headquarters is
more than just a roadside attraction. Dave has documented hundreds

(43:45):
of sightings reported to him by visitors, locals, and park
rangers who trust him.

Speaker 3 (43:50):
With their stories.

Speaker 4 (43:51):
He's collected physical evidence, including hair samples, scat, and additional
footprint casts. He's compiled, weather data, migration pasthatterns of known animals,
and geographical information trying to understand the skunk apes behavior
and habitat preferences.

Speaker 3 (44:07):
Dave sheely calls himself the.

Speaker 4 (44:09):
Jane Goodall of skunk apes, and while that might sound grandiose,
there's something to it. Jane Goodall revolutionized our understanding of
chimpanzees by observing them patiently in their natural habitat, documenting
behaviors that scientists had insisted were impossible. Dave is attempting
the same thing with the skunk ape, minus the academic

(44:30):
credentials and research grants. He's a lone voice insisting that
something real, something important, is living in the Everglades and
that it deserves our attention and protection. Critics dismiss him
as a true believer, seeing what he wants to see,
capitalizing on folklore for tourist dollars. But spend an hour
talking to Dave, Listen to the conviction in his voice,

(44:53):
look at the evidence he's compiled, and you start to
wonder is this man deluded or has he simply had
experience is that most people never will? Is he perpetrating
a hoax, or is he the lone voice of truth
crying out in a wilderness that most people have forgotten exists.
Stay tuned for more sasquatch Ott to see. We'll be
right back after these messages. While South Florida gets most

(45:20):
of the attention in skunk ape research, Central Florida has
its own dark reputation. The Green Swamp, a vast wilderness
area northeast of Tampa, has been the site of numerous
encounters over the decades, encounters that are often more terrifying
than those in the Everglades, perhaps because people don't expect
to find such a creature so close to populated areas.

(45:43):
In October two thousand and nine, a father and son
were hunting in the rich Lone Wildlife Management Area, part
of the Green Swamp Complex. It was mid morning, good light,
perfect conditions. They were sitting in a hunting blind watching
a game trail when they heard something approaching, heavy footfalls,
branches snapping. Something big was coming their way. The father

(46:06):
signaled his son to stay quiet, thinking it might be
a large buck. But what stepped onto the trail wasn't
a deer. It was a skunk ape and it was
close less than fifty feet away, standing fully upright, easily
seven and a half feet tall. It hadn't seen them yet,
or perhaps it simply didn't care. It was focused on

(46:27):
something else, looking around the area as if searching for something.

Speaker 3 (46:32):
The father and son.

Speaker 4 (46:33):
Sat absolutely still, hardly daring to breathe. They watched as
the creature bent down and picked something up from the ground,
examining it with evident curiosity. Then it did something remarkable.
It sat down right there on the trail and began
eating whatever it had found, completely at ease, completely unguarded.

(46:54):
They watched for nearly five minutes, an eternity when you're
that close to something so large and pentally dangerous. They
could see the muscles moving under the creature's fur. They
could see its hands, remarkably human like, manipulating its food
with surprising dexterity. They could see its face and profile,
the heavy brow, the flat nose, the way its jaw

(47:16):
worked as it chewed. Then the wind shifted, the creature's
head snapped up, nostrils flaring. It had caught their scent.
For a moment, it stared directly at their blind and
the father was convinced it could see them. Despite their camouflage. Then,
without any sign of fear or hurry, the creature simply
stood up and walked away, disappearing into the thick vegetation

(47:39):
as if it had never been there. A month later,
in November two thousand and eight, another hunter in the
green swamp had an encounter that was equally remarkable. He
was watching a persymmetry, knowing that wildlife would be attracted.

Speaker 3 (47:52):
To the ripe fruit.

Speaker 4 (47:54):
But what showed up wasn't a deer or a bear.
It was a skunk ape, and it was feeding on
the person simmons with obvious enjoyment, reaching up to pull
down branches, selecting the ripest fruit with a discriminating eye.
The hunter watched through his rifle scope, getting a closer
view than perhaps any other person has managed. He described
the creature's face as remarkably expressive, almost human in its

(48:18):
concentration and pleasure as it fed. He watched it for
several minutes before it seemed to sense his presence and
melted away into the forest. These green swamp encounters are
significant because they show the skunk ape's omnivorous nature, its
intelligence in finding and selecting food, and its general non
aggressive behavior when not threatened or cornered. These weren't creatures

(48:41):
attacking people or behaving monstrously. They were simply going about
their lives, eating, traveling, surviving in a wilderness that was
increasingly encroached upon by human development. But the Green Swamp
has darker stories too. In September twenty ten, a weekend
camping trip turned into a nightmare when a group of
friends had their campsite invaded by a skunk ape. They

(49:04):
were sitting around their fire enjoying the evening when they
heard something large moving in the darkness beyond their light.
They shone flashlights toward the sound and caught glimpses of
something massive, hairy, and moving on two legs. The creature
circled their camp for over an hour, never approaching close
enough to be clearly seen, but making its presence known.

(49:26):
The sounds it made were disturbing, deep vocalizations that weren't
quite roars, weren't quite howls, and the smell when the
wind was right was overwhelming. The group packed up their
gear and left, abandoning their campsite in the middle of
the night, too terrified to stay. And then there was
the incident that locals don't like to talk about the

(49:47):
story of the man who went missing in the Green Swamp.
His vehicle was found abandoned, one tire punctured deep gouges
in the paint that looked disturbingly like claw marks. The
man was never found. Search and rescue teams combed the
area for days, but it was as if he'd simply vanished.
Some suggested he'd gotten lost and succumbed to the elements.

(50:09):
Others whispered that perhaps he'd encountered something in that swamp,
something that didn't want to be found, and had paid
the ultimate price for stumbling into the wrong territory. By
this point, you might be asking yourself, Okay, but what
about the hard evidence. Where are the bodies, where's the DNA,
where's the proof that would convince a scientist. It's a

(50:31):
fair question and it deserves a thorough answer. Let's look
at what physical evidence has been collected over the decades
and what it tells us or doesn't tell us. First,
there are the footprints. Dozens of casts have been made
of skunk ape tracks throughout Florida. They show several consistent features.
Most are between fourteen and eighteen inches long. Much larger

(50:54):
than a human foot. They show toe spreads, heel impressions,
and mid tarsal breaks that are an atomically inconsistent with
a human foot structure. Some show four toes, others show five,
leading researchers to speculate that there might be variation within
the skunk ep population or possibly even different species. The

(51:14):
depth of these tracks, when found in measured soil conditions,
suggests creatures weighing between four hundred and six hundred pounds.
The stride length measured between consecutive tracks indicates a creature
with legs proportionally longer than a human's, and the pattern
of the tracks the way weight is distributed across the
foot shows a creature adapted for bipedal locomotion, not an

(51:37):
ape walking upright awkwardly or a human wearing fake feet.
Hair samples have been collected from multiple locations, often found
snagged on barbed wire fences or caught on vegetation. These
samples have been analyzed and the results are frustratingly inconclusive.
The hair show's characteristics of primate hair in structure and

(51:58):
protein composition, but it doesn't match any known species. Some
samples are too degraded to analyze properly. Others show contamination
from handling or environmental factors. None have provided the clear,
definitive DNA match that would prove the existence of an
unknown species. There's also scat found occasionally in areas of

(52:19):
high skunk ape activity. Analysis shows an omnivorous diet, including
plant matter, fruit, and occasionally meat, consistent with eyewitness reports
of the creature's feeding behavior, but again, definitive DNA analysis
has been elusive. Scat degrades quickly in Florida's humid environment,
and proper collection and preservation require expertise that most witnesses

(52:42):
don't have. Then there are the photographs and videos. We've
discussed the Mayaka photos at length, but there are others.
Dave Sheieley's video numerous trail camera images that show large,
dark figures that might be skunk apes, or might.

Speaker 3 (52:57):
Be bears or people.

Speaker 4 (53:00):
The problem with photographic evidence in the digital age is
that it's become almost meaningless. Anything can be faked with
photoshop or video editing software, so even genuine photographs are
dismissed as hoaxes. So why hasn't a body been found?
It's the question skeptics always come back to. If these
creatures exist, why haven't we found bones. Why hasn't a

(53:22):
skunk ape died of natural causes and been discovered? There
are several possible answers. First, Florida's environment is incredibly efficient
at decomposition. A body left in the swamp can be
reduced to nothing in a matter of weeks between the heat, humidity, insects, bacteria,
and scavengers. Finding bones in dense vegetation is like finding

(53:45):
a needle in a haystack, even if you know roughly
where to look. Second, if skunk apes are intelligent, they
might bury or hide they're dead, just as elephants are
known to do. There are accounts in cryptozoological literature of
bigfoot creature removing bodies of their kind, though obviously these
accounts are unverified. Third, the population density might simply be

(54:08):
very low. If there are only a few dozen skunk
apes in all of Florida, the chances of anyone stumbling
across a body are vanishingly small. When you consider how
rarely people actually penetrate deep into the remaining wilderness areas,
staying overnight, moving off trails, the odds get even smaller.
And finally, there's the possibility that people have found evidence

(54:31):
but haven't recognized it for what it is. A skull
found in the swamp might be dismissed as an oddly
shaped bare skull, or dismissed entirely as too strange.

Speaker 3 (54:40):
To report for fear of ridicule.

Speaker 4 (54:42):
The lack of definitive scientific evidence is undoubtedly the strongest
argument skeptics have. The National Park Service officially considers the
Skunk Ape to be a hoax. The scientific community by
and large dismisses it as folklore, misidentification, or deliberate fraud.
They point to the black bear population in Florida and

(55:03):
suggest that bears with mange, which can cause hair loss
and make them look strange, account for most sightings. But
the mange explanation doesn't hold water when you look at
detailed eyewitness accounts. People who've seen bears, who live in
bear country, who hunt bears are reporting creatures that are
clearly not bears. The gate is different, the proportions are different,

(55:26):
the behavior is different. A bear on its hind legs
doesn't look like a tall, hairy man. It looks like
a bear standing up. The misidentification argument also struggles to
explain the consistency of reports. Why are people from different
time periods, different locations, different backgrounds, all describing the same

(55:46):
basic creature. Why do the descriptions match so well with
indigenous folklore that predates European settlement. As for hoaxes, certainly
some sidings are hoaxes. Some photographs are faked, some footprints
are manufactured, but all of them hundreds of reports spanning
two centuries from people who have nothing to gain and

(56:06):
everything to lose by coming forward. That requires a conspiracy
of silence and cooperation that strains credulity far more than
the existence of an unknown primate. Skunk ape sidings haven't
stopped in the twenty first century, if anything, With the
advent of social media and the Internet, reports have become
more numerous and more widely shared. The Big Foot Field

(56:29):
Researchers Organization maintains an extensive database of skunk ape sidings,
and since twenty ten alone, reports have come from forty
eight out of Florida's sixty seven counties. In twenty twenty four,
a report came out of Collier County where a family
driving on a rural road at night claimed to have
nearly struck a skunk ape with their vehicle. The creature

(56:52):
ran across the road in front of them, visible for
just a few seconds in their headlights. They described it
as at least seven feet tall, covered in reddish brown hair,
moving with incredible speed. They were shaken enough to report
it to local authorities, though they requested anonymity. Social media
has created new platforms for people to share their experiences

(57:13):
without the fear of public ridicule. Facebook groups dedicated to
skunk ape research have thousands of members. YouTube channels devoted
to cryptozoology regularly feature new Florida reports. This democratization of
information has its downsides. Certainly, hoaxes spread faster than ever,
but it's also allowed genuine witnesses to find validation, to

(57:37):
connect with others who've had similar experiences, to realize they're
not alone. Trail cameras, which have become ubiquitous among hunters
and wildlife researchers, have occasionally captured images that are difficult
to explain. Blurry figures moving through the background of what
should be empty forest, dark shapes that don't match known animals,

(57:58):
nothing definitive but suggest estive, intriguing. There's even been renewed
scientific interest, though from the fringes of academia. A few
primatologists and anthropologists, speaking carefully and usually not for attribution,
have suggested that an unknown primate species in Florida, while unlikely,
isn't impossible. The discovery of new species continues even today.

(58:23):
The Mountain Guerrilla wasn't confirmed to exist until nineteen oh two,
despite native reports going back centuries. Could the skunk ape
be a similar case of Western science finally catching up
with indigenous knowledge. So what is the Florida skunk ape?
If it exists, what could it possibly be? Several theories
have been proposed over the years, each with its own

(58:45):
strengths and weaknesses. This is the official explanation offered by skeptics.
Florida has a population of black bears, and when they
stand on their hind legs, they can look vaguely humanoid.
Bears with mange having lost much of their fur, might
look even stranger. But this theory struggles with several facts.

(59:05):
Bears don't consistently walk upright over long distances, their gait
is different from what witnesses describe, and experienced outdoorsmen hunters
who've seen many bears are among the witnesses reporting skunk apes.
It's insulting to suggest they can't tell the difference. Perhaps
the skunk ape is an escaped orangutan or multiple escaped

(59:27):
apes from various.

Speaker 3 (59:28):
Facilities over the years.

Speaker 4 (59:30):
Florida has a problematic exotic pet industry, and escapes do happen,
But orangutans aren't adapted to Florida's environment and wouldn't survive
long in the wild. They also don't match the descriptions
provided by witnesses. Orangutans have distinctive features that would be recognizable,
and this theory doesn't explain historical sightings from before exotic

(59:51):
animal facilities existed in Florida. And stay tuned for more
sasquatch otta see, We'll be right back after these messages.
Gigantopithecus was a genus of ape that lived in Asia
up to one hundred thousand years ago. It was massive,
possibly the largest primate ever to exist, standing up to

(01:00:14):
ten feet tall. Some cryptozoologists have suggested that a population
might have survived and migrated to North America via the
Bearing Land Bridge during the Last Ice Age. This would
make the skunk ape a genuine prehistoric survivor adapted to
modern environments. It's an exciting theory, but it has problems.

(01:00:35):
Gigantopithecus was likely quadrupedal, not bipedal. There's no fossil evidence
of it ever existing in North America, and the environmental
requirements for such a creature to survive long term in
Florida are considerable. Maybe the skunk ape is simply a
species of great ape that science hasn't cataloged yet. Not
all of Earth has been explored. New species are discovered regularly.

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The skunk ape could be an evolutionary offshoot, a unique
adaptation to North American swamp lands. It would be smaller
than Bigfoot, explaining why it's been so elusive. Its adaptation
to aquatic environments would explain its habitat preferences, and the
difficulty in finding remains. This is perhaps the most plausible theory.

(01:01:19):
If the skunk ape exists, it doesn't require us to
believe in prehistoric survivors or escape zoo animals. It simply
requires accepting that an intelligent, elusive primate has learned to
avoid human contact and has thus far evaded scientific confirmation.
The final theory is that all of it, every sighting,

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every photograph, every piece of evidence is either a hoax,
a misidentification, or a delusion. This requires believing that thousands
of people across two centuries have been lying, mistaken, or fooled.
It requires dismissing the testimonies of law enforcement officers, military veterans,
experienced outdoorsmen, and families. It requires explaining away physical evidence

(01:02:05):
like footprints and hair samples.

Speaker 3 (01:02:07):
Is this possible?

Speaker 4 (01:02:08):
Certainly humans are capable of remarkable levels of self deception
and group delusion.

Speaker 3 (01:02:14):
But is it likely?

Speaker 4 (01:02:16):
Is it more likely than the alternative?

Speaker 3 (01:02:19):
Maybe?

Speaker 4 (01:02:19):
The question isn't whether the skunk Ape exists, but why
we want it to exist. Why does the idea of
an undiscovered primate living in Florida's wilderness capture our imagination
so completely. There's something primal about cryptids. They represent the unknown,
the wild, the part of nature that refuses to be
tamed or cataloged. In our modern world of GPS, satellites

(01:02:43):
and Google maps, where every square inch of the planet
has been photographed and analyzed, the possibility of something undiscovered
is deeply appealing. The skunk Ape also represents a kind
of validation. If it exists, it means there are still
mysteries in the world. It means that despite our technology
and our science, nature can still surprise us. It means

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that the wilderness, even in densely populated Florida, still has
secrets worth protecting. For many believers, the skunk ape is
also personal. They've had experiences that change their understanding of reality.
They've seen something that shouldn't exist, and they know it
was real. The scientific community's dismissal of their experiences isn't convincing.

(01:03:27):
It's frustrating. They were there, they saw it, they smelled it.
No amount of scientific skepticism can erase that experience. But
psychology also teaches us about the unreliability of human perception
and memory. Our brains are wired to find patterns to
make sense of ambiguous information. We see faces in clouds,

(01:03:49):
we hear words in random noise. We interpret shadows as threats.
Could every skunk ape citing be a case of paridolia
of our pattern seeking brains misinterpreting innocent stimuli. Studies have
shown that people who believe in paranormal phenomena are more
likely to engage in what psychologists call magical thinking. They're

(01:04:11):
more willing to accept extraordinary explanations for ordinary events. They're
less likely to critically examine their own perceptions and memories.
Does this mean all skunk ape witnesses are delusional, Not necessarily,
but it does mean we should approach testimony with some
degree of caution. However, it's worth noting that Dave Sheey,

(01:04:32):
perhaps the most prominent skunk ape researcher, doesn't fit the
profile of a typical conspiracy theorist. He openly jokes about
some of the wilder theories people bring to him. He's
skeptical of alien abduction claims and government cover ups. He's
focused on the creature itself, on gathering evidence, on understanding
its behavior and habitat. He's more naturalist than believer, more

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Jane Goodall than ancient aliens. So here we are, at
the end of our journey through the swamps and forests
of Florida, through two centuries of encounters, evidence, and arguments.
What have we learned? What can we conclude? The evidence
for the Florida Skunk Ape's existence is substantial, but not definitive.
There are hundreds of eyewitness accounts, many from credible witnesses

(01:05:19):
with nothing to gain from lying. There are photographs and
videos that are intriguing but not conclusive. There are footprints,
hair samples, and other physical evidence that suggest something unknown,
but don't prove it beyond doubt. The scientific community remains skeptical,
and rightfully so. Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence, and that

(01:05:41):
evidence hasn't yet been produced. No body has been found,
No DNA has definitively proven the existence of an unknown
primate species. The possibility of misidentification and hoax can't be
completely ruled out, and yet the reports continue. People continue
to have experiences that change their lives, that challenge their

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understanding of what's possible. Families continue to see things in
their backyards that terrify them. Hunters continue to encounter creatures
that don't match any known animal in Florida. Perhaps the
truth is somewhere in the middle. Perhaps some sightings are
genuine while others are misidentifications or hoaxes. Perhaps there is

(01:06:22):
something in Florida's wilderness, something rare and elusive, something that
has learned to hide from human eyes. Or perhaps it's
all folklore, all misunderstanding, all the product of our desire
to believe in mysteries. But I'll leave you with this thought.
Florida's remaining wilderness is vast The Everglades alone cover one

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point five million acres, much of it virtually impenetrable. Big
Cypress National Preserve adds another seven hundred and twenty nine
thousand acres. The Green Swamp Complex covers five hundred and
sixty thousand acres. A Kala National Forest contains three hundred
and eighty three thousand acres of dense woodland and swamp.

(01:07:04):
In these vast wild places, where the air is thick
with heat and humidity, where the water hides alligators and
the trees hide panthers, where the very ground might give
way beneath your feet without warning, is it really so
impossible that something unknown might survive? Something smart enough to
avoid trail cameras, rare enough that bodies are almost never found,

(01:07:26):
and elusive enough that definitive proof remains just out of reach.
The next time you're in Florida, driving through the countryside
at night or walking through a state park at dusk,
pay attention. Watch the tree line, listen to the sounds
of the swamp, and if you catch a whiff of
something terrible on the wind, if you see eyes reflecting

(01:07:47):
in the darkness at an impossible height, if you hear
footsteps that don't belong to anything that should exist. Remember
the stories you've heard here today. Remember Charles Stuckman and
his son wading through the Remember the family who saw
a face at their second story window. Remember Deputies Lewis
and Milner following footprints into the swamp. Remember Dave Sheeley,

(01:08:11):
ten years old, lifted onto his brother's shoulders to see
something that would define the rest of his life. And
ask yourself, really ask yourself. Could all of these people
be wrong? Could every single witness over two centuries be mistaken, diluted,
or lying? Or is there something out there in the swamp,
something ancient and wild, something that Florida shares with the

(01:08:34):
world only when it chooses to. The skunk ap might
not want to be found, It might not need scientific validation,
It might not care what we believe. But it's out there,
somewhere in the darkness among the cypress and sawgrass and mangrove,
going about its mysterious existence, watching, waiting, surviving, and maybe,

(01:08:57):
just maybe, if you're very lucky or very unlucky, you'll
be the next person to catch a glimpse of Florida's
greatest mystery. You'll smell that unforgettable stench. You'll see those
eyes burning in the darkness. You'll know with absolute certainty
that you're not alone in the wilderness, and you'll understand
finally why the legend of the Skunk Ape refuses to die.

(01:09:21):
Because legends, real legends, aren't born from nothing. They're born
from truth, however strange and uncomfortable that truth might be.
The swamp keeps its secrets, but sometimes, just sometimes, those
secrets walk out into the light, and when they do,
nothing is ever quite the same again. Sleep well, Florida,

(01:09:42):
and remember to lock your doors. After all, you never
know what might be standing at your window, pressed against
the glass looking in.

Speaker 2 (01:10:49):
Didn't did in instat pat pat