Terror in the night.

We went camping with my brother and his family this last weekend.  And I got scared. 

More scared than I care to admit.

To understand, there are a few things you need to know:

a)  Greg is obsessed with Big Foot.  Always has been.  I have watched a lot of shows about people being hunted by beasts in the forest.
b)  There were "bear country" signs posted everywhere.  I am afraid of bears.
c)   My sister in law has back yard chickens, but can't tell the difference between a hen and a rooster when they are chicks.  My sister in law brought a live rooster to camp in a diaper box. She planned on giving it to a farm nearby.


So we go camping, and while my brother's family sleeps in a trailer, my family sleeps in a tent.  This is no big deal to me.  I like to sleep in a tent.  I like to smell the fresh air and snuggle close to Greg for warmth.  You know how it goes. 

It was about midnight on Friday night and Greg and I both jerk awake.  Something brushed against the side of our tent.  And the something was big enough and made enough sound to wake us both up.  And the side it brushed against?  Mine.  INCHES FROM MY HEAD.  Do you understand?  Big Foot may have been INCHES FROM MY HEAD!

After it brushed by the tent, many sticks broke.  Big sticks.  Not little sticks that would break under the weight of a raccoon or a skunk. 

I clutched Greg's arm and whispered:

"Did you hear that?"

Greg didn't answer.  We could hear tearing and shredding of the garbage we accidentally left outside.  I know better than to do that.  It's my fault.  I said in a whimpering voice:

"Get your legs on in case it come through the tent!"

He replied "I don't know where my legs are."

TERROR!  What kind of a world is it when you have to look for your own legs, I ask you?!

And to make it worse, at this point, our dog begins a low woof and growl combo.

I AM FREAKING OUT!  (I am reliving it while typing and my heart rate has increased...)

I make Greg call to Jesse in the trailer.

Mind you, we are in a crowded campground, and I realize this will disturb others.  And I didn't care.
He has a flashlight.
He has a weapon.
He has legs.

Glory be, he's going to be our hero!  I may not be doomed to die in a tent after all!

"JESSE!"  Greg yelled really loud.
"JESSE!"  He yelled again.

"YO!" Came the reply from the trailer.
"HELP!" we yelled.

Jesse came quickly wearing nothing but his mormon jammies, but he had a light...and a steel pipe.  By the time he came out, the beast was gone, but garbage was torn to bits.  Jesse left the pipe and the lantern with us and we all went back to bed.

It was at this point I seriously considered sleeping in the car.

Greg held the pipe all night.  He couldn't find his legs to go out and scare the beast away, but if it came into our tent, he would BEAT it to death!  That's my man.

The dog fell back to sleep and that gave me enough peace of mind to fall back to sleep again too.

About 3 am there came a scream.

A SCREAM! 
IN THE NIGHT! 
THE VERY SAME NIGHT!

It was a scream like I had never heard before.

It was the scream of a rooster.

The rooster screamed and screamed.  I later learned that my sister in law was at the trailer door but was too scared to go out and save the chicken, and it was all over but the feathers before Jesse could find his shoes.

The screams got farther and farther away and then they were gone.  It came back and dragged off a live chicken!

I never went back to sleep.  I laid awake wondering if that chicken had filled up the belly of the beast or just gave it a little taste of fresh blood.

It didn't come back...I suppose the sacrificial rooster was enough.

We decided it was probably Chickacabra.

That's the cousin to the Chupacabra.  He lives in the mountains above Ogden, and has a thing for live chickens.

And it was INCHES FROM MY HEAD!

I swear this is a true story!!! .....Natalie.