Seven accounts of something very large and apparently very deliberate. It copies whistles in the dark. It follows people home through city parks at ten-thirty on a Tuesday. It steals a deer from a hunter mid-field, drags it into the trees like a correction, and leaves the man's orange hat tucked under a strip of freshly peeled bark as a parting thought.

The mythology insists Bigfoot is elusive. The archive disagrees.

A collection of firsthand encounters from people who are still not entirely sure what they saw — and who are managing, with varying success, not to think about it too hard.