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The plaintive howl echoes through the forest sounding like a muffled “whoop, whoop, whoop.” Brandon Kiel pauses to listen in the dark, holding his breath for a moment before drawing air into his lungs.

Once again, Kiel cups his hands in front of his mouth and imitates the call: “whoop, whoop, whoop.” The sound echoes back through the night, but all else is silence. Bigfoot isn’t answering.

“The season is favorable,” Kiel says, with a touch of disappointment.
“But it’s always possible that the animals are not in the area.” The blueberries are ripe, and the calves of the Roosevelt elk, one of Bigfoot’s favorite foods, haven’t matured yet.

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