8 Year Old Boy Vanishes in the Wilderness Footage Shows Bigfoot Took Him – Bigfoot Story
The Child in the Blue Coat
A Father’s Quest in the Oregon Wilderness
Chapter 1: The Footage
The trail camera footage shows everything. A massive dark figure moving through the Oregon wilderness, walking slowly through the snow alongside a small child in a blue winter coat.
.
.
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That coat is unmistakable—the jacket my eight-year-old son Derek was wearing when he vanished five years ago. The child walks calmly beside the towering creature, showing no fear, no distress, only the quiet companionship of someone who has found their place in a world that shouldn’t exist.
What you’re about to hear is the true account of that December day in 1998, and the evidence I’ve gathered since then that proves Derek wasn’t lost, wasn’t taken by a human predator, and isn’t dead. He was adopted by something the world calls Bigfoot.
My name is Tom, and this is the story of how I lost my son to the wilderness—and how I’m going to get him back.
Chapter 2: The Christmas Tree Hunt
December 5th, 1998 began as a perfect winter morning for our annual Christmas tree hunt. The Oregon forest stretched endlessly around us, blanketed in fresh snow that crunched beneath our boots as we ventured deeper into the Fremont-Winna National Forest.
Derek, my energetic eight-year-old son, bounded ahead through the knee-deep powder, his excitement infectious as he searched for the perfect tree to grace our living room. We’d made this trip every year since Derek could walk—a father-son tradition that meant everything to both of us.
Derek lived for these outdoor adventures. At home, when he wasn’t exploring the woods behind our house, he spent hours watching wildlife documentaries, dreaming of the creatures he might encounter in the wild. His fascination with nature earned him the nickname Bear Boy among our friends and family.
That morning, Derek carried his small hatchet with the pride of a seasoned woodsman, chattering endlessly about which ornaments would look best on which branches. His cheeks were red from the cold, his eyes bright with the pure joy that only children possess when surrounded by natural wonder. The forest felt magical, ancient evergreens heavy with snow creating a winter wonderland that seemed straight from a Christmas card.
We had special permission to cut three trees, so we planned to venture far from the usual spots where other families gathered. The deeper we went, the more pristine and untouched the wilderness became.
Chapter 3: Tracks in the Snow
Two hours into our hike, Derek spotted something that would change our lives forever—a set of tracks in the snow unlike anything I’d ever seen. They were enormous, easily twice the size of my own footprints, pressed deep into the snow, suggesting whatever made them carried immense weight. The stride length was impossible for any human. Each print measured roughly eighteen inches long and eight inches wide, with distinct toe impressions clearly visible.
The tracks led deeper into the forest, disappearing into a section of woods so dense the canopy blocked most of the afternoon sunlight. Something primal in my gut screamed danger. These weren’t bear tracks; I’d seen plenty of those over the years. They weren’t from any known animal in these mountains. They were something else entirely—something that shouldn’t exist, but had clearly passed through just hours before our arrival.
Derek was mesmerized by the discovery. His young mind interpreted the mysterious tracks as an exciting puzzle to solve rather than a warning to flee. Before I could stop him, he was following the trail, calling back that he wanted to see where they led.
I should have grabbed him right then, should have dragged him back to the truck and driven home without a backward glance. But Derek was already fifty yards ahead, his small figure darting between the trees with the fearless enthusiasm of childhood.
My father, who had joined us for the expedition, urged me to let the boy explore. Within minutes, Derek had disappeared from sight, swallowed by the ancient forest that suddenly felt more like a predator than a playground.
Chapter 4: Vanished
At first, we assumed Derek was just beyond the next cluster of trees, focused on whatever fascinating discovery had captured his attention. Children have a way of becoming completely absorbed in their explorations, losing track of time and distance when something captures their imagination.
We continued our search for the perfect Christmas trees, occasionally calling out to make sure Derek was within earshot. His voice would drift back through the trees, cheerful and unconcerned, assuring us he was fine and had found something interesting.
But then the responses stopped. The forest fell silent, except for the whisper of wind through snow-laden branches. Our calls for Derek echoed through the trees, growing more desperate with each unanswered shout.
The winter afternoon was already beginning to fade, and the temperature was dropping rapidly. When we regrouped to compare our tree selections, the horrible realization hit us. Derek wasn’t with either of us. We had each assumed he was with the other, but he was nowhere to be found.
The magical winter wonderland had become a nightmare maze where my son had simply vanished.
Chapter 5: The Search
We immediately began tracking Derek’s footprints in the snow—a task that should have been simple given the clear impressions his boots left in the fresh powder. His trail was easy to follow at first, small distinct bootprints leading deeper into the forest alongside those massive, inexplicable tracks we’d discovered earlier.
But then something happened that defied all logic and reason. About a quarter mile from where we had last seen Derek, his footprints simply ended. Not gradually, as if he’d turned around or changed direction. They just stopped, as if he’d been lifted straight up into the air and carried away.
The enormous tracks continued for another hundred feet before disappearing into a rocky area where the snow was too thin to hold clear impressions. It was as if whatever creature had made those prints had taken Derek with it, carrying him over terrain where no traces could be left behind.
We searched frantically as darkness fell, our flashlight beams cutting through the shadows between the trees. The temperature plummeted to well below freezing, and the reality of Derek’s situation became increasingly dire. An eight-year-old boy couldn’t survive a night in these conditions, not without shelter, food, or warm clothing beyond his winter coat.
Chapter 6: Signs
Near the spot where Derek’s tracks had ended, we found something that chilled us more than the December cold—a perfect snow angel impression, the kind children make by lying down and moving their arms and legs. But this impression was larger than Derek could have made, and something about it felt wrong. Too deliberate, too perfect, almost like a message or a lure.
Fifty yards away, we discovered a makeshift shelter constructed from broken tree branches. The structure was sophisticated, far too advanced for a frightened eight-year-old to have built, especially in the gathering darkness. The branches used in construction were thick, some as wide as my arm, and several had been snapped cleanly in half—a feat that would have required immense strength. The shelter was large enough to house a creature much bigger than Derek, yet it had clearly been built recently. The broken ends of the branches were fresh, with sap still oozing from the breaks.
Whatever had constructed this shelter possessed both intelligence and physical power far beyond human capability.
Chapter 7: The Community Responds
Word of Derek’s disappearance spread quickly through our small community and beyond. Within hours, hundreds of volunteers had assembled, forming human chains that combed every inch of the snow-covered terrain. Local law enforcement coordinated with state authorities to launch one of the largest search operations in Oregon’s history.
Police helicopters equipped with infrared technology swept the area from above, their thermal cameras capable of detecting body heat through the forest canopy. Search and rescue teams brought in specially trained dogs to try to pick up Derek’s scent and follow his trail.
For seven days, the search continued around the clock. Volunteers came from neighboring states, strangers united by the desperate hope of finding one lost little boy. The media attention was overwhelming. News crews from across the country descended on our small town, turning our family tragedy into a national story.
But despite all the technology, all the manpower, all the prayers, Derek remained missing. It was as if the forest had simply swallowed him whole, leaving behind only questions and the growing certainty that something unprecedented had occurred in those ancient woods.
Chapter 8: Unnatural Evidence
The search dogs provided the first concrete evidence that something unnatural was happening in the forest. These were experienced animals trained to track missing persons in all kinds of terrain and weather conditions. But when brought to the area where Derek’s tracks had disappeared, they behaved in ways their handlers had never seen before.
Instead of picking up a scent trail and following it with their characteristic, focused determination, the dogs became agitated and fearful. Several whimpered and backed away, their tails tucked between their legs in classic submission postures. Others began howling, not the purposeful baying of dogs on a trail, but something that sounded almost like terror.
One experienced handler, a man with thirty years of search and rescue work behind him, admitted privately that he’d never seen anything like it. The dogs were clearly detecting something in that area, but whatever it was inspired fear rather than the hunting instinct these animals had been trained to follow.
Chapter 9: The Prints
On the third day of the search, volunteers made another discovery that raised more questions than it answered. Additional sets of the massive footprints in a muddy area near a stream about half a mile from Derek’s last known location. These prints were even clearer than the ones we’d originally found, showing distinct toe impressions and what appeared to be a heel strike pattern.
The prints measured exactly eighteen inches long and eight inches wide, with a gait pattern that suggested a creature capable of taking strides longer than any human could manage. The depth of the impression suggested a creature weighing at least four hundred pounds, yet the spacing indicated bipedal locomotion rather than the four-legged gait of known large animals.
More prints were discovered over the following days, creating a trail that led deeper into the wilderness, far from any roads or human habitation. The pattern suggested purposeful movement rather than random wandering, as if whatever creature had made them was following a specific route through the forest.
After seven days of intensive searching, officials made the heartbreaking decision to call off the operation. The harsh winter weather, the enormous size of the search area, and the safety concerns for the hundreds of volunteers made continuing the effort too dangerous.
Chapter 10: Hope Rekindled
But my family refused to give up. We organized our own search parties, returning to the forest every weekend for months. We posted flyers throughout the region, offering a substantial reward for any information leading to Derek’s recovery. That weathered, faded flyer still hangs on a tree near where he disappeared—a testament to our refusal to abandon hope.
About a month after Derek’s disappearance, a hiker found two items that reignited the investigation—a school bookmark that belonged to Derek and a candy wrapper from his favorite treat. Both were discovered several miles from where he had last been seen, in an area that had been thoroughly searched multiple times.
More significantly, there were traces of blood on both items. Not large amounts, but enough to suggest that Derek had been injured, possibly from cuts or scrapes sustained while being moved through difficult terrain. The discovery of these items so far from the original search area proved that Derek had been transported. But the question remained: by whom or what?
Chapter 11: The Footage Returns
But it was what happened five years later in 2003 that provided the evidence I’d been desperately seeking and confirmed my growing suspicion about what had really happened to my son.
In November 2003, a bow hunter was pursuing deer in the same general area where Derek had vanished. He had set up a trail camera to monitor animal movements when it captured something that would change everything I thought I knew about my son’s disappearance.
The footage showed a massive humanoid creature walking upright through the forest. The being stood at least eight feet tall, covered in dark brown hair with arms that hung down past its knees and a bulk that suggested immense physical strength. But what made the footage truly extraordinary was what walked beside it.
Next to the enormous creature walking calmly through the snow was a small figure in a blue winter coat—a child who appeared completely unafraid of the massive being towering above him. The child’s gait was natural and unhurried, suggesting not captivity but companionship.
Chapter 12: Analysis
When the footage was enhanced by technical specialists, the coat showed characteristics identical to the one Derek had been wearing when he disappeared. The video quality was remarkable, captured in broad daylight with perfect clarity. Frame by frame analysis revealed details of the creature’s anatomy that were unlike any known primate species—the skull shape, the proportions of the limbs, the fluid manner in which it moved through difficult terrain.
Wildlife experts who examined the footage were unanimous in their conclusion that this was not a person in a costume or a known animal. The biomechanics displayed by the subject, the natural way it interacted with its forest environment, and the consistency of its movement patterns all indicated a real living creature.
Multiple experts examined the hunter’s footage, and their findings were both scientifically rigorous and deeply unsettling. Primatologists noted that while the creature displayed characteristics similar to great apes, its upright locomotion and limb proportions were unlike any cataloged species. Anthropologists pointed out that the skull shape visible in several frames suggested a brain case larger than modern humans, with bone structure that appeared more robust and primitive.
The creature’s behavior—moving purposefully through the forest while staying close to the child—indicated intelligence and planning capability.
Chapter 13: The Father’s Vigil
Most significantly for my family, fabric analysis specialists examined enhanced frames showing the child walking beside the creature. They identified what appeared to be synthetic material consistent with modern winter clothing, specifically the type of insulated fabric used in children’s coats during the late 1990s.
The child’s size, posture, and the familiar blue coat all suggested this was Derek. Five years after his disappearance, most disturbing and hopeful at the same time was the child’s demeanor. He walked freely beside the creature, showing no signs of fear or distress. The careful, protective manner in which the massive being stayed close to the child indicated a relationship built on trust rather than captivity.
For five years, I had avoided the obvious conclusion that all evidence pointed toward. The idea that my son had been taken by a creature that most people consider mythological seemed too fantastic to accept, too much like the plot of a horror movie rather than reality. But the evidence was overwhelming when examined objectively.
Chapter 14: The Search Continues
My research into Derek’s disappearance led me to discover that our case was not unique. Hundreds of children vanish in wilderness areas every year under circumstances that don’t fit typical patterns of getting lost or being abducted by humans. These disappearances share common characteristics—children found miles from where they disappeared, often in terrain too difficult for them to navigate alone; discoveries in areas that have been thoroughly searched multiple times; and when found alive, the children often have no memory of how they traveled such distances or what happened during their absence.
Former law enforcement investigators who have studied these cases note that traditional search and rescue techniques often fail to locate missing children who are later found in impossible locations. The pattern suggests that these children are being moved by someone or something with intimate knowledge of wilderness terrain and the ability to travel undetected through areas that would challenge experienced outdoorsmen.
Chapter 15: A Father’s Promise
People often ask how I function knowing that my son was taken by something that shouldn’t exist. How do I go to work, maintain relationships, continue living while believing Derek is somewhere in the wilderness, possibly still alive after five years?
The answer is simple. I have no choice. Every piece of evidence points to Derek being alive. Every instinct I have as his father tells me he’s out there somewhere in the vast forests of the Pacific Northwest, either being cared for by these creatures or having learned to survive among them.
That possibility—that Derek is alive—is both my greatest hope and my deepest torment. I imagine him growing up in the wilderness, learning to live in a world completely different from the one he knew as a child. Has he forgotten his human family? Does he remember his name, his life before that December day?
Chapter 16: The Cabin in the Woods
I returned to those woods every month, equipped with trail cameras and the knowledge I’ve gained about Bigfoot behavior patterns. Over five years of intensive study, I’ve learned to recognize signs of their presence—trees twisted at heights no human could reach, stick formations that appear deliberately arranged, and areas where the normal sounds of forest life fall unnaturally silent.
I’ve installed a network of cameras throughout the region, hoping to capture evidence of Derek or his captors. The cameras have recorded numerous anomalies—massive shadowy figures moving between the trees, enormous footprints appearing overnight, and structures built from forest materials that show intelligence and planning.
Three times over the past five years, I’ve had what I believe were direct encounters with these creatures. The first was just a glimpse of something enormous moving through the trees about fifty yards away. Too brief to capture on camera, but long enough to confirm that something large and bipedal was watching me from the shadows.
Chapter 17: Never Giving Up
I built a cabin deep in the forest, three miles from where Derek vanished. It’s a simple structure—four walls, a roof, and a single window that faces the endless expanse of trees where my son disappeared. I spend most nights there now, sitting by that window with a cup of coffee growing cold in my hands, watching the shadows move between the ancient pines.
The silence out there is different from anywhere else I’ve ever been. It’s thick, oppressive, as if the forest itself is holding its breath. During the day, I search the trails, following deer paths and creek beds, looking for any sign that Derek passed this way.
Sometimes I think I hear his laughter drifting through the trees, that bright innocent sound that used to fill our house. But when I stop to listen, really listen, there’s nothing but the whisper of wind through the branches.
Chapter 18: The Final Message
I’ve made a decision that will probably seem extreme to anyone reading this account. I’m permanently relocating to the cabin I built near the site where Derek disappeared. I’ve resigned from my job, sold my house, and dedicated the remainder of my life to finding my son.
For five years, I’ve been gathering evidence, studying these creatures, learning their patterns and behaviors. Now, I’m going to attempt direct contact. I’ve been leaving regular offerings of food in locations where I found evidence of their activity—fruits, vegetables, bread, and other items that disappear completely within days. I’ve gradually moved these offerings closer to my cabin, hoping to establish a pattern of non-threatening interaction.
I’ve also been leaving items that might be meaningful to Derek—photographs of our family, small toys he loved as a child, drawings of memories we shared together. Some of these items disappear as well, always replaced with small tokens that suggest they’ve been seen and understood.
Chapter 19: Love Beyond the Wild
My hope is that if Derek is with them, if he’s grown up among them but still retains some memory of his human family, these familiar objects might prompt him to make contact. Even if he’s forgotten English, even if he’s been completely integrated into their society, somewhere in his heart, he might remember the father who loved him.
Son, if you’re out there, if you’ve learned to live in that world between the human and the wild, I want you to know that your father never stopped looking for you. Every day for five years, I’ve thought about you, hoped for you, searched for you. I know you’ve probably changed in ways I can’t imagine. You might not remember our old life together, our traditions, the games we used to play, but I hope somewhere in your heart you remember that you were loved completely and unconditionally, that you belong to a family that would never give up on you.
I’m not trying to take you away from whatever life you’ve built. I just want to know that you’re safe—to see for myself that you’ve grown into whoever you were meant to become, and to tell you one more time that your father loves you exactly as you are.
Epilogue: The Search Continues
Derek’s disappearance has taught me that the wilderness holds secrets we’re not prepared to acknowledge. In our arrogance, we assume that humans are the only intelligent species on this continent. That we’ve cataloged and categorized every creature that walks through our forests. But the evidence suggests otherwise.
There are beings in the deep woods that bridge the gap between animal and human—creatures that have learned to remain hidden while maintaining their own complex societies. They’ve watched us, studied us, and occasionally interacted with us in ways we dismiss as folklore or misidentification.
The truth is that we share this continent with intelligences we don’t understand. And sometimes, for reasons beyond our comprehension, those intelligences make contact with our world in ways that forever change the lives they touch.
Derek, wherever you are, whatever you’ve become, you’re still my son. The forest may have claimed you, but love transcends any boundary between the civilized and the wild. I’ll never stop looking for you. I’ll never stop believing you’re out there. And someday, whether in this world or whatever comes after, we’ll be together again.
The search continues. The truth waits in the shadows between the trees. And a father’s love remains stronger than the fear of the unknown.
End.
