Bigfoot, come back. Only those Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad train riders on Oct. 8 caught a glimpse and we are a community ready to embrace you. You’ve had a taste of celebrity, with images going viral worldwide, including on major TV networks, in newspapers such as The New York Times, and as far away as the Hindustan Times in New Delhi, India.
Come back, you’re just what we need. We’re ready to believe, despite our lack of scientific data. We realize you were spotted closer to Silverton, but we in Durango can offer more. A creature such as yourself would add much to our upcoming new city of Durango logo.
We do, though, have a screening process to make sure you’re legitimate.
In the video, we noticed a few things, namely an inelegant squat – partly a plop – onto the ground, with you facing the train. Let’s break this down.
Based on images of other Bigfoots and their body mechanics, this looked like an actual Bigfoot maneuver. Not exactly graceful as you have never taken a seat in proper society, at least that we can source. Your body could slump into a tired heap.
This point passes the screening.
However, you plopped down while the train passed. This is questionable. Everyone knows, you are shy, likely misunderstood and turn away from the spotlight, rather than practically posing for a train full of photo-snapping tourists.
This is a ding to credibility.
Or maybe it’s a sign that you’ve evolved and grown away from your heritage, closer to who we humans are. Sitting and watching that train indicates you’re far from who your kind once were. A survivor of a population that has dwindled. Are you alone or lonely? A distinct difference.
Bigfoots are a remote lot who prefer a quiet life in the forest, peeking out rather than inviting looks in. Being in direct view of train riders doesn’t seem Bigfoot-like.
So that ding holds. (Sorry.)
We do, though, want to believe. We want to believe you walk through your solo life with soft steps on your path, a contemplative journey, away from the busyness, the aggravation, the capitalism outpacing our own livelihoods in the Southwest to the point that legal tender is becoming meaningless, as we can’t get our hands on all that we need.
We’re a little envious of how you live. Clearly, you are a sentient being.
In watching the video, a few of us referred to you as “he.” But you could very well be a “she” or “they.” To clarify, what is your pronoun?
Why do we assume you are male? Do you have a partner or love interest? Because every few years, a new Bigfoot appears. We’ve never seen a gaggle of Bigfoots, but some reproduction – and with that, we hope a romantic life – is going on. Tell us more.
And do you prefer Bigfoot or Sasquatch or Yeti?
Gazing at the spectacle that was the train full of tourists, what was that experience like? You wanted to be seen. Was your brazen look toward them an act of desperation? Maybe you don’t want to be alone anymore. Are you as curious about us as we are about you?
Back to the screening. Some say you are merely a hunter. But no rifle or bow or backpack or even a hat. You’d be a fool not wearing bright orange, blending into scenery during hunting season.
So a check mark that you actually could be Bigfoot.
In Bailey, Jim and Daphne Myers own Sasquatch Outpost, a museum dedicated to the elusive creature. Jim Myers’ life’s work has been searching for proof that Sasquatch is real.
At his museum, patrons can pin a spot on a map where they’ve seen the famous cryptid. But first, they must tell their stories – with alleged proof – to Myers, who decides whether the tale is worth a pin.
Myers reviewed the video. “The hair was the wrong color, it was shiny,” he said. “And it’s clearly a costume.”
This sighting did not rank a pin.
For our Bigfoot, we imagine hearing that you are fake is hurtful. “Beast,” which you get a lot, too, would be unpleasant. A little strong.
We mentioned that logo opportunity, where you could peek out coyly from behind trees, with the train and a bike and the Animas River in the foreground. True to who you are, you could keep your mysterious brand intact.
Plus, cycling legend Sepp Kuss just left and we need another hero.
Bigfoot, we want to know you. And if you’re over the solo lifestyle, we’ll introduce you to a lot of hairy women and hairy men in Durango. You’ll fit right in.
We’ll even host a parade with you on a float. We’ll cheer and hoot and holler. Even more so than the people on that train the day you were discovered.
We always believed you were real, even though the sharpest academics, researchers – even the FBI – have never provided evidenced-based proof of your existence. Forget the screening – we’re giving you the benefit of doubt.
We realize, your world has changed since Wyoming residents Shannon and Stetson Parker caught you on camera while on the lookout for elk. Your life can still be wild, just a different kind of wild.
Bigfoot, come back. Durango wants you for its own.
