Trashquatch! The hunt for the Staten Island Bigfoot.

Countless
expeditions—for hunting and capture, depending on the anthropological climate
of the day—have set out in search of these creatures. None has returned
with a verifiable specimen, though several amateur and professional hunters
have offered photographs and video footage as evidence.

The most
famous Bigfoot movie is the Patterson-Gimlin film. In 1967, Roger Patterson
and Robert Gimlin set out on horseback to search with a hand-held 16mm Kodak
movie camera in an area near Bluff Creek, in California’s Six Rivers National
Forest. They spotted what appeared to be a female Bigfoot in the gravel sand
bar of a creek. Patterson’s pony reared up and he plunged to the ground,
but he disengaged himself, got the camera rolling and ran toward the creature.
Gimlin waited—rifle ready—in case they were attacked. The 952-frame
film shows a creature walking a human-like gait and body movement that suggests
flesh, not a suit. Patterson defended the film as authentic until his death.

The late-night
conspiracy radio shows are never at a loss for explanations. Some claim Bigfoot
to be surviving relatives of Gigantopithecus, a giant cousin of the orangutan.
Others believe that Bigfoot is “para-dimensional”—that is, the creature
is able to step in and out of our dimension—and may or may not be connected
in some way to UFO sightings. Some say that Bigfoot have a basic command of
English: One witness claimed that a Sasquatch spoke the words, “You’re
not welcome…”

Quite naturally,
skeptics ask how a population of creatures could possibly survive, sight unseen,
in the modern world. Coleman points to the case of the wood bison. Declared
extinct in 1940, the Canadian bison was discovered again in 1957 when a herd
of 200 genetically undiluted bison—cousins to, yet distinct from, the American
buffalo—was found in a remote part of Alberta, Canada during an air patrol.
They were thriving not fifty miles from a 100-year-old station.

Historic
Richmond Town is a joint project of the Staten Island Historical Society and
the City of New York, established to present the experience of old-fashioned
Staten Island. In this “museum village,” there is a reconstruction of a sawmill,
a mid-19th-century train station relocated from Annadale and, to the west along
Richmond Hill Rd., the Church of St. Andrew, originally built sometime around
1712. There is a parking lot across the street from the church, a swamp close
by and, 30 years ago, the dump was also within walking distance.

It seems
to be the best candidate for the 1974-75 sightings, and so the best starting
point for my hunt.

During my
first forays into the woods surrounding Richmond Town, I found broken trees
and animal remains. This is hardly unusual for such a wooded area. While hiking
in LaTourette Park, however, I came upon heavily barricaded trails where dozens
of trees had conveniently fallen across the paths. I found unrecognizable, five-toed
prints and strange rub marks high on trees (too high to have been caused by
deer). I also discovered large “lay areas”—patches of vegetation that had
been matted down, presumably by a sleeping animal. In my experience, deer like
to conceal themselves in these lays, but they generally accommodate one or two
adults. One lay area was thirty feet wide.

In the summer
of 2002, I went camping. On my first night, all seemed normal. I heard the welcoming
sounds of small animals scurrying around, searching for food. I also heard something
bashing a large stick against a tree repeatedly in the distance, but decided
it was nothing to get alarmed about.

On the second
night, it was deathly silent, and as I lay in my tent, I had the sensation of
something creeping up on me. It was the same feeling you get when someone’s
standing behind you. I flashed a light off into the blackness, but saw nothing.

An hour
or two later, I was startled by the unmistakable sound of a large tree snapping
at the roots.

The windless
night and my earlier feeling of encounter convinced me that a tree had been
pushed over.

There wasn’t
much I could do about the situation at the time. I was stuck up there. Luckily,
nothing else happened that night, and the next evening held no thrills other
than a peculiar growl around 5:00 a.m.

At approximately
7:30 on the first morning of my second stake-out, I took a short walk through
the woods. On my return, I sensed something was amiss. The energy around me
was strange, as if something was about to happen.

And then
it did, and very quickly.

I’d
surprised one of the creatures in my camp, and it went crashing through the
woods with such violence that it sounded as if someone were driving a box truck
through the forest. I ran in pursuit, but after about 200 feet of stumbling
through unfamiliar forest, I gave up. It was far too fast, and I’m a little
too old to catch up.

And catch
up to what anyway? My death? What was I going to do if I caught up with the
thing? I walked back to my camp, trying to catch my breath.

But then—

Another
creature lingering nearby took off into the forest. It must have been watching
me.

“Here we
go again…” I thought, and gave chase. But again, I soon admitted defeat.

Whatever
these creatures were, they’d been watching me, stalking me, waiting until
I broke camp so they could come in and raid it. Having read that meat is their
favorite food (some say the Bigfoot are vegetarian, but I believe otherwise),
I left tidbits of meat out after my evening meal. They must’ve smelled
the leftovers and were waiting for me to leave. I probably shouldn’t have
chased them, but I meant no harm. I just wanted to get a glimpse.

That second
night was uneventful, save for some rock crashes off in the distance. Some claim
that these sounds are a demonstration of territorialism, but I think they were
only searching for prey. On a subsequent night in the same area—one where
I didn’t stay overnight—my flashlight encountered a couple pairs of
eyes just off the trail that shined like big, silver medallions, then moved
away.

Since then
I’ve hiked extensively in the Greenbelt and found live trees snapped in
half, large droppings precariously perched atop boulders, areas bearing what
I would describe as a strong “horse-like” smell and one significant “romp area”
where all the trees and vegetation had been torn down. On a mild, rainy night
last December, while passing by Great Kills Park on the busy Hylan Blvd. on
Staten Island’s south shore, in the same woods where I had discovered this
large “romp area” earlier, I heard something tearing down trees somewhere back
in the thicket.

There were
no construction sites for miles, and why would kids be out on a dark and rainy
winter night tearing down trees in the remote backwoods?

By backtracking
across the road to the original point of access, I ascertained that they were
routing through a Dept. of Environmental Protection construction site, climbing
through large, unused drainage pipes leading to a wire fence. That fence had
been ripped open as easily as if it were made of string, yielding access to
the creek bed.

Later that
day, I met a man who works at a local business who told me that while on a small
mountain in the park one night, he saw what he thought were “bears standing
on two legs walking by.” Another man who’s active in the Richmond Town
community informed me that after a recent blizzard, he noticed tracks leading
along the water all the way back to—and disappearing into—the swamps.

Earlier
this year, near the Amundsen Trail on Staten Island, I came across a strange
little animal. It was the size of a small dog, light gray in color and without
a tail. When it saw me, it crawled away, practically on its belly using four
stubby legs, and somehow scaled a wooden fence. I didn’t see its face,
nor did I want to.

Then in
April, I encountered what seemed to be a large, white tomcat foraging through
the trash. When it walked away, I noticed two distinct growths hanging from
the middle of its back. As crazy as it sounds, they looked like unformed wings.

I’ve
never seen anything like the tail-less dog and the winged cat; I hope I never
do again.

According
to a 1994 Department of Sanitation survey, trace amounts of the following chemicals
can be found in Fresh Kills: barium, copper, arsenic, thallium, DDT, selenium,
lead, boron, antimony, nitrobenzene, napthalene, toluene, vinyl chloride, mercury,
manganese, silver, phenol, phenylenediamine, magnesium, heptachlor, PCBs, nickel,
chlorobenzene, zinc, and ethylbenzene.

Though tales
of Bigfoot in American date back hundreds of years, isn’t it possible that
the abuse thrown down upon Staten Island in the last fifty years has given rise
to unnatural creatures? Who knows what’s lurking in the water tables? Who
can say what’s leaking from Fresh Kills? What exactly is the DEP doing
in white suits, behind barbed-wire fences?

Even if
I never see our local Bigfoot in person, I suspect there will be plenty of opportunities
to see other, even more curious beasts. Will Trashquatch soon need to defend
its habitat against other cryptozoological contenders?

Staten Island
Swamp Thing, anyone?