Sometimes the mythical creature known as Bigfoot or Sasquatch gets mentioned in a Kos thread, typically as an example of bad scientific method, or bad television programming. Me, I cut the cable a few months ago, and thus am mercifully spared the steady parade of ghost, UFO, and monster shows infesting the airwaves. Each of those shows occupies a spot that could be educating us about the planet we inhabit, or the universe beyond.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think that much of the fascination about Bigfoot stems from the desire to believe that another noble, nearly human creature inhabits the deep forests, just beyond the reach of humankind, cleverly eluding all who enter its domain. After all, aren’t new species being discovered all the time?
When I’m asked whether Bigfoot exists, my short answer is “Show me the DNA.” If Sasquatch truly lurks just over the next hill, how can it be that nobody has ever found a body, or a body part with enough DNA to make a positive identification? Do the animals live forever? Do they hide their dead so well that legions of searchers looking for lost hikers have never found a body or a grave? Are they so smart that not one member of their species has ever been run over by a truck, or by a train? Even birds have the misfortune of being turned into road kill. When you’re talking about a large land mammal, it’s bound to happen. And if it happens, science will know about it.
One misconception keeping the myth alive is the belief that there are vast unbroken stretches of land that are unvisited, undisturbed. I wish that were true, but it is not. Pretty much every square foot of land in the continental United States that is not a vertical cliff face has been visited by a prospector, a hunter, a forester, or an adventurer. And the adventurers have covered most of the cliffs, come to think of it. For instance, I once backpacked in a designated wilderness in Colorado. Far from any existing road, I came across an abandoned mine, complete with heavy machinery. The heavy metal equipment must have been brought in by pack animals, piece by piece, and bolted together on site. The lure of gold has taken prospectors to the most remote places imaginable.
My chosen profession, forestry, has led me to some mighty remote places as well. In my western projects, it’s not unusual for me to be several miles from the nearest public road. But I’m seldom far from a private road. The West has many millions of acres of public and private timberlands. Most of that land has road access. The privately owned lands are generally closed to the public, with gates strategically located to keep interlopers out. But anyone can do a virtual flyover, courtesy of Google Earth. Try it some time. Pick a remote area, and see how many roads are actually out there. Sasquatch has to cross roads in search of food, unless all of his meals are catered. Somehow, nobody ever sees it happen. Or those who claim to see it never present credible evidence.
Outdoorsmen love to share stories of the unusual things they’ve seen. I often ask foresters, hunters, and hikers whether they have ever seen Bigfoot. The answer is always no, usually accompanied with a smile or a chuckle. Most of them would be thrilled to get credit for proving that the elusive creature exists. Think of the book deals, the TV and movie deals (heck, people get their own TV shows for not finding Bigfoot). Finding Sasquatch would be your ticket to the echelons of the 1%. But you can’t see what ain’t there.
Lately I’ve seen a proliferation of wildlife cameras, placed in remote locations by hunters or researchers. Two years ago in northeast Oregon, I was a half mile through brushy woods from the nearest spot with public access, and noticed a camera staring at me. The newer models are digital, and can capture good images at night using infrared light. Ah, the clever Bigfoot; it’s too smart to ever enter the line of sight of one of those cameras, no matter how well it’s hidden.
And finally, there’s the matter of population. Every species requires a certain minimum number of individuals in order to survive. Fall below that critical number, and extinction is likely. It’s a problem faced by plants and animals all over the world, as habitat becomes more and more fragmented. There cannot be a mere handful of Bigfoot (hmm, is the plural Bigfoots, or Bigfeet?) out there, or we’d be encountering them all the time. Hundreds, probably thousands would be necessary to maintain genetic diversity. And they cannot be in isolated pockets; they must be able to intermingle.
That would rule out the Fouke Monster, which allegedly inhabits the Sulphur River bottoms in southwestern Arkansas. The area is too small, and human habitation is everywhere. Early in my forestry career, I lived and worked nearby. Everyone knew about the monster, named for the small town of Fouke, and immortalized by the movie, The Legend of Boggy Creek (rent it some time, if you have two hours to waste). Many of the locals told me that the monster was invented by rural white residents in an effort to scare away people of color. Back when I still had cable TV, one of those Bigfoot shows had a breathless narrator describing the actions of the brave crew as they searched for the Fouke Monster. They even set up a wildlife camera. What did they get a picture of? A hunter! Isn’t the teevee grand? Have an hour-long episode about people who capture nothing, except the image of a lone hunter. If I’m going to watch a show about nothing, I’ll find a rerun of Seinfeld.
With that, the floor is open. Let’s hear your reasons for believing, or not believing. Shoot holes in my theories, or back them up with more evidence. And if you’ve seen Bigfoot, tell us about it. Just be sure to bring me the DNA.