Deconstructing Bigfoot Encounter Stories
What Bigfoot witnesses have in common with great storytellers
In the last TSB post I wrote about the Bigfoot Field Research Organization’s (BFRO) classification system for Bigfoot encounter reports. The BFRO divides reports into 3 classes based on quality of evidence, with the highest regarded class — Class A — distinguished by visual confirmation. I also shared a complementary scheme I developed for coding Bigfoot reports that covered five levels of interaction between witnesses and Bigfoot. These ranged from Level-0, or asynchronous encounters through circumstantial evidence, up to Level-4, or synchronous encounters marked by competition for resources.
In this post I want to traverse another but related path for exploring Bigfoot encounters: narrative analysis. In social sciences this is a form of qualitative analysis, which examines unstructured text-based data, such as interview responses, journal entries, observations, or really anything in non-numeric format. Narrative analysis focuses on stories. By “stories” I mean texts that have a beginning, a middle, and an end. Yes, there are more complicated definitions of story, but for this post a simple linear framework will get us started.
Why I Appreciate a Good Bigfoot Story
If good stories involve conflict and tension in the plot and growth and change in the protagonist, then it’s no wonder that Bigfoot encounter narratives have appeal. In many of these narratives, the storyteller (or witness) undergoes a transition from normal everyday hunter to enlightened Bigfoot ideologue. From a Bigfoot skeptic to a true believer or, as many witnesses have described themselves, a knower. In terms of the five levels of interaction, this transition can be spurred at any level above Level-0.
Years ago, I struggled through Joseph Campbell’s sometimes perverse The Hero with a Thousand Faces (1949) and Robert McKee’s Story (1998). Both authors —and many others— provide a template for storytelling. How stories begin, how they move forward, and how they end. While Campbell and McKee can be conceptual in their guidance, their frameworks are understandable. The difficulty lies in the execution; that is, in the crafting of a story that adheres to principles of good storytelling.
So how do Bigfoot witnesses do it? For example, I’ve come across many witness reports that effectively execute McKee’s concept of archplot, where the protagonist experiences an absolute, irreversible change. Or, in the spirit of Joseph Campbell, the witness, through his story, becomes the Master of Two Worlds, as he moves from the worldview of the skeptic to that of the enlightened knower. I’ve heard witnesses make this point with simple, raw statements, such as “I thought I was the apex predator in the forest. After my encounter, I don’t believe that anymore.” Ernest Hemingway would raise his brow.
My point is that Bigfoot narratives are not freely spun from imagination. I would argue they have their roots in real experience. I heard once that the best stories are the ones closest to reality: stories that have characters that we can relate to and feel empathy toward. The best science fiction, fantasy, and horror stories become what they are not from special effects and make-believe worlds but from relatable characters who grow and change. Many Bigfoot narratives are simply a recounting of events that happened to the reporter, what he observed, how he responded, and how he changed as a result. The main character of a Bigfoot encounter narrative is not the Bigfoot but the witness himself.
The Bigfoot Encounters as a Subject of Narrative Analysis
I mentioned Joseph Campbell’s and Robert McKee’s books above. I would say both conducted narrative analysis in producing their texts: Campbell on stories of epic journeys by mythological heroes and McKee on contemporary film scripts. Campbell identified 3 main phases of the hero’s journey: the would-be hero’s separation from the known world, his initiation through a series of trials toward attainment, and then a return to the former life but now as a hero. Within each of these phases Campbell outlines several stages the hero must pass through. Homer’s Odyssey is a good example of what Campbell calls the monomyth. The Lord of the Rings (Peter Jackson’s film version in my experience, anyway) also fits here. McKee identified 5 parts to good screenwriting: an inciting incident that disrupts the protagonist, a progressive series of complications, a crisis, a climax that forces a change in the protagonist, and finally a resolution. McKee leans on Robert Towne’s Chinatown as a classic example of this. I think more about Stallone’s Rocky (the first one).
Certainly Bigfoot encounter narratives do not rise to the lofty heights of epic journeys and big screen classics. Encounter stories often lack structure, leave unanswered questions, meander about, and can change minor details from one telling to the next. But these narratives are not produced by literary masters or backed by Hollywood budgets. These are just stories about unusual experiences, told by regular folks like you and me. We shouldn’t expect perfection or anything near it for that matter. But there is value in listening to how these stories unfold.
The Phases of a Bigfoot Encounter
I identified the following common themes somewhat unintentionally. I didn’t closely document, analyze, and evaluate dozens of narratives. As I listened to more firsthand encounter stories, I began to recognized repeated ideas. One day, I wrote them down. That’s it. In retrospect, however, these themes mapped over to Gustav Freytag’s dramatic arc from his Technique of the Drama (1896). Freytag identified 5 acts and labeled them as the introduction, the ascent (sometimes referred to as the rising action), the climax, the return (sometimes referred to as the falling action), and the catastrophe (more often referred to as denouement or conclusion).
These Bigfoot encounter themes or phases follow a chronological order, though during an interview they may not come in sequence and some phases may not be made explicit at all. I take this as the nature of informal storytelling. There is no editor or director, though an argument could be made that the interviewer plays the role of director. Here are the 5 phases, each with a short description. I added Freytag’s associated act in parentheses.
Initial Stasis (Introduction). The witness sets the stage for us in a couple different ways. First, we learn about his prior attitude toward Bigfoot, whether a skeptic, a limited believer (for example, Bigfoot only exist somewhere in the Pacific Northwest), or a whole-hearted proponent. Mostly I hear witnesses claiming skepticism and disbelief. Second, we learn about the witness’s relationship with nature. This is typically presented as the witness describing himself as a long-time hunter or outdoorsman, someone who has always been comfortable with, and knowledgeable about, the woods and the wild things found there. This initial stasis is important to our understanding of the witness’s worldview and the extent to which this could change.
Premonition (Rising Action). Bigfoot narratives often mention a sense of foreboding or a sudden feeling of uneasiness. Witnesses describe a sixth sense or an intuition, that tingling up the spine or the hairs standing up on the back one’s neck. This sometimes precedes a foul smell —often described as a wet dog combined with a decomposing corpse — and the forest suddenly going silent and still: the calm before the storm.
There’s limited if any scientific research into a sixth sense, mainly I suspect due to the ethics of studying humans under artificially imposed dangerous situations. Still, Ed Yong in An Immense World: How Animal Senses Reveal the Hidden Realms Around Us (2023) makes the point that settling on only 5 senses is nonsensical, especially in light of the wide-ranging capabilities among non-human creatures. Perhaps we’re capable of more than we know. The sudden stillness of the forest is another persuasive element of these narratives. I sometimes wonder if this is a memory error related to heightened attention on a singular stimulus, drowning out recognition of all other sensory inputs. Either way, its difficult to imagine this premonition has no real cause.
Convergence (Climax). The narrative moves from uncertainty and suspicion to confirmation. The witness has little doubt he is in the presence of something unfamiliar and mortally dangerous. A switch is flipped in the witness that takes him from a cautious curiosity to a uncomfortable assuredness about his situation. The narrative makes an abrupt change. If you remember Jay’s encounter from previous posts, he thought he was looking at a bear and then suddenly the creature stood up and Jay realized this was not a bear but a “gorilla-like man.” Depending on the length of the encounter, this part of the narrative could carry on, as the witness grapples with getting himself out of the situation. Or, the narrative could turn sharply toward a resolution.
AI image. Representation of a conceptually shattered world. Shattered World (Falling Action). I borrowed this label from the clinical psychology literature on trauma, where terms like “shattered assumptions” and “shattering worldviews” are often used as catchy titles on research papers. It’s got the requisite imagery, for sure. This phase brings us back to the initial stasis. The world the witness knew has been fractured and splintered. The meaning of sights and sounds in the forest takes on new significance. More importantly, the witness’s assumed place in the forest is re-ordered. His view of the world is now different from the views still held by friends and family.
There is a sharp contrast between the world once known and the world as he sees it now. Each witness seems to deal with this new-found reality in different ways, for better or worse. The point is that the witness is changed. The residual effects of the Convergence phase often remain. A retelling of the encounter by the witness often generates a physiological response not unlike those experienced by victims of trauma: nervousness, chills, shaky hands, shortness of breath. These are persistent reminders of their entrance into, and emergence from, the shattered world.
Adaptation (Conclusion). The encounter narrative often concludes with an integration of the witness’s former self into this new worldview. This phase shows the witness achieving a level of survival or resilience. Some make this shift quicker than others. Some don’t make the shift completely, if at all. A revised or wholly new self-identity emerges, changing from a once fearless hunter to a now cautious one. The witness has become wiser. Hobbies are re-evaluated and existing support systems are questioned. Sharing the encounter with friends and family cam leave the witness empty. The witness seeks out a new stasis.
I’ll admit this is a bit dramatic but at least I didn’t bring up Freud and Jung: Campbell’s influence only goes so far for me. But these phases of Bigfoot encounter narratives follow closely to recognized story frameworks, whether from Campbell, McKee, Freytag, or others. Good stories will be good stories, no matter how you deconstruct them.
The Bottom-line
I like to believe these story phases are more than just interesting, that there’s insight to be found here. Bigfoot witnesses are either wonderfully talented storytellers with a practical knowledge of clinical and social psychology, or they are reflecting on and recounting real experiences… and real experiences make for good stories. I think Bigfoot debunkers are hypocritical in this case; they argue that a Bigfoot witness, who is often a hunter or other outdoor enthusiast, can not tell the difference between a bear or stump and a gorilla. But despite the witness’s supposed incompetence in telling apart animals, the debunkers will allow him great skill in crafting an encounter narrative.
Next Time on TSB
I derived these story phases mainly from podcast interviews with witnesses. And I was selective, listening to what I considered intense encounters told by credible witnesses. Whatever that means. But if I want to get a more representative lay of the land, I need to dig into the BFRO reports database. In fact, this is what I’ve been doing recently, and to say I’ve been let down by what I’m finding is to put it mildly. So next time I’ll share what I’ve learned from the BFRO database and speculate about the implications for the social world of Bigfoot. This could shatter your Bigfoot worldview, so hang in there, troopers!
Thanks for reading and don’t be a Stranger,
DC | TSB
