Seen Sasquatch? Let the community know.
If you spend enough time in the Methow Valley, you’re inevitably going to run into a situation where somebody becomes aware of you needing something very specific, and then provides you with that item. Postings on the Methownet bulletin board and social media can result in speedy solutions, but I also know I am not alone in having had people overhear conversations and then helping connect the person who needs something with the thing they need, no matter how obscure.
The other day my daughter was looking for a particular book. The high school library’s copy was already checked out, and the elementary school library didn’t carry it. The two public libraries didn’t have it on the shelves; we would need to wait a week to get one transferred from another library. For a Gen Z kid, a week is like an eternity used to be, in the olden days at the end of the 20th century.
A friend, however, overheard me asking about the book and said, “Oh, I saw a copy of that in one of the neighborhood little free libraries yesterday.” I drove immediately to that little free library and sure enough, there was the book I sought; problem solved. (I should also add that as free library etiquette suggests, I left a different book in its stead — a good one, too.)
Meanwhile, another local neighborhood has addressed what is apparently a community need for data collection by thoughtfully offering web page space for those wishing to report Sasquatch sightings. Such resource allocation indicates that glimpses of Bigfoot are numerous enough to warrant entry into the public record, although I have yet to see any evidence of it. I’m not sure which I’m more excited to see: Bigfoot himself, or a notification that someone else has spotted him roaming the neighborhood.
My current need is for some enlightenment on why I was stalked and nearly attacked by a grouse on the Rader Creek trail the other day. I’ve asked a few biologist friends what would cause the bird to chase me for several hundred yards, fly over my shoulder like a dive-bomber, and then stand on the trail in front of me with neck feathers fanned out, but they seem as mystified by the stalking as I am.
I know this community well enough, however, to be confident that the explanation is out there somewhere; I just need to wait for the right person to overhear me requesting it.
