Twas The Squatch Before Christmas

'Twas the Squatch before Christmas, when all through the woods

Not a Bigfoot was stirring, not even knocking on wood;

The DNA traps were hung on tree trunks with care,

In hopes that Sasquatch would leave us some hair;

The researchers were nestled all snug in their tents;

While dreaming of casting some giant footprints;

Plaster in the backpack, and staring through FLIR,

"Is that one over there? Nope, just some deer",

When out in the trees there arose such a clatter,

But it was just a barred owl making some chatter.

Then all of a sudden the trailcam lit with a flash,

But nothing was there, not one single Sas.

Looking for tracks in the new-fallen snow,

Thought that I found one, but it was missing a toe,

When what to my wondering eyes did I see,

But a tall hair-covered creature behind an oak tree,

With a sagittal crest, and standing over 8 foot,

I knew in a moment he must be bigfoot.

More hiding in shadows, hide and seek was their game,

And they whistled, and shouted, so I called them by name:

"Now, Bigfoot! now, Sasquatch! now Skookum and Yeti!

On, Skunk Ape! on, Swamp Ape! Show yourselves, my camera is ready!

To the top of the hill! to try out our calls!

Call blast away! blast away! blast away all!"

As Squatch that before the researchers hide,

When they meet with an obstacle, they get out of their ride;

So out into the woods the researchers did go,

With bionic ears on, and blasting calls by Bobo—

And then, in a twinkling, I heard a strange sound,

The sneaking and stepping of two feet on the ground.

I reached in my pack and began using the FLIR,

When suddenly a Sasquatch stepped out in the clear.

He was covered in hair, from his head to his foot,

And his hair was all tangled and the color of soot;

A thick bushy mane that hung down his back,

And his face was all hairy changing from brown into black.

His eyes—how they glowed! like the eyes of a cat!

His cheeks were exposed, his nose wide and flat!

His jawline strong with just a slight under bite,

And the beard on his chin went from grey to snow white;

The woods went quiet as he growled through his teeth,

And the fog from his breath; circled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a little pot belly

A sight to behold; even if he was smelly.

He was alive and real, not like a unicorn or elf,

And I froze when I saw him, almost pee'ed on myself;

A blink of his eye and a turn of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, just turned away and started to walk,

And disappeared into the shadows; with a single wood knock,

And the stench I had smelled now gone from my nose,

But there on the ground; a large track with 5 toes;

He let out "whoooooop", which was returned with a whistle,

And away I heard them moving through thickets and thistle.

But I got out a call after he was long out of sight—

“Happy Christmas to all Bigfooters, and to Sasquatch good night!”


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