Sasquatch of the South: David Cleaver’s Lifelong Search for the Unknown

For David Cleaver, the mystery of Sasquatch is not a hobby, a media project, or a search for attention. It is a question that began in childhood and followed him through decades of fieldwork, research, and firsthand encounters across Texas. The documentary Sasquatch of the South traces that journey—from a terrifying first encounter behind his grandparents’ home in North Texas to some of the most compelling and unusual Sasquatch experiences ever reported in the southern United States.

This is not a story built on speculation. It is built on memory, physical proximity, and years spent paying attention to patterns most people never notice.

A Childhood Encounter That Changed Everything

David’s first encounter occurred on his grandparents’ property in North Texas. As a child, stepping out of the car late at night, he noticed movement near a retaining wall at the edge of the driveway. At first glance, it appeared to be a large black dog. As he moved closer, the shape changed—first into something birdlike, crouched low with what looked like hanging feathers, then into something unmistakably human.

What he saw was not an animal reacting defensively. It was watching him. Smiling.

David recalls teeth that reminded him of piano keys—yellowed, flat, and distinctly human. The face itself was deeply unsettling in its familiarity. When the creature raised its hand and motioned for him to come closer, instinct took over. David screamed and ran.

His grandfather responded with a shotgun, searching the area after firing a warning shot, but found nothing. For years, David tried to dismiss the event as imagination. Yet the image never faded.

Camp Grady Spruce and Physical Contact

The memory returned with force in July of 1969 at Camp Grady Spruce along the Brazos River. While camping near Chick Bend and Kyle Mountain, David and other campers noticed something watching them from a rock overhang above their site. Witnesses disagreed on what they were seeing—wolf, bear, monkey—but the unease was shared.

The following morning, David and a friend climbed to investigate. What happened next marked one of the rarest forms of Sasquatch encounters: direct physical contact.

As David rounded a rock outcrop, he collided with what he initially thought was a tree. The “tree” was hairy. Alive. Standing upright.

Face to face, only feet apart, David locked eyes with the creature before scrambling backward in terror. It roared—an explosive, chest-rattling sound that echoed through the canyon. Both boys fled, leaping off a cliff to escape. Counselors and campers below heard the roar and the screams but had no explanation.

That same day, as the world celebrated the Apollo 11 moon landing, David began his search for answers—alone, unheard, and deeply affected.

The Brazos River and the “Kill Zone”

David’s research repeatedly led him back to the Brazos River, one of Texas’ most important wildlife corridors. Stretching from North Texas to the Gulf of Mexico, the river supports countless species—and, according to decades of reports, something else.

In one area along the river, David discovered what he calls the “kill zone”: a concentrated site containing dozens of animal skeletons in various stages of decay. The clustering was unnatural. The placement deliberate.

Later encounters in the same region escalated. Using a calf distress call near a ranch with reported livestock losses, David and his girlfriend triggered a violent response. A roar erupted from across the river—so powerful it resembled a lion in volume and force. Moments later, sounds of owl mimicry answered from behind them. Then came the sound of a calf being killed—abrupt, brutal, and final.

The experience left David shaken and convinced he was dealing with intelligent predators using coordination, positioning, and ambush tactics.

Patterns, Families, and Generations

Over time, David began to notice something most casual researchers miss: continuity.

Footprints of different sizes appeared together—large, narrow tracks alongside smaller ones only a few inches long. David documented what he calls “baby foots,” returning to the same locations over the course of years and watching the prints grow larger.

These were not isolated animals. They were family groups.

David also observed behavioral differences between age groups. Younger individuals left more evidence. Older ones were careful, deliberate, and rarely made mistakes. This understanding changed how he approached the field. Instead of chasing encounters, he focused on long-term observation and respect.

Daylight Encounters and the “Locals”

One of David’s most remarkable sightings occurred in broad daylight near Austin in 2018. Hiking with his wolf-dog companion, David watched as a tall, slim, light-haired Sasquatch stood up barely twenty feet away. Unlike the classic dark, heavy-set figure often described, this one was lean, fast, and silent—gone in seconds through terrain no human could navigate at that speed.

David believes regional variation plays a role, much like human populations. Some individuals migrate. Others stay local. He refers to the long-term residents as “the locals.”

Peanut Butter, Trust, and Technology

David learned early that technology changes behavior. Trail cameras, electronics, and modern gear seemed to alert the creatures immediately. After deploying camera traps, he noticed a sudden absence—years without interaction, as if trust had been broken.

Instead, David relied on simpler methods. He left food offerings, including peanut butter jars. The results were revealing. Rather than unscrewing the lids, the jars were twisted apart—crushed with visible finger impressions. Some were found miles away.

To David, this demonstrated not just strength, but problem-solving and preference.

Urban Foots: Sasquatch in Town

Perhaps most unsettling was David’s realization that these creatures were not confined to wilderness. Using creek beds, ravines, and green belts, they moved into town.

Near his home, he noticed disturbed trash, missing pets, and a muddy handprint pressed onto his truck mirror—far too large to be human. He believes they were accessing school dumpsters and navigating neighborhoods the same way other predators do.

Quiet. Careful. Invisible.

A Question Bigger Than Bigfoot

David believes government agencies are aware of these creatures and have been for decades. Whether that belief is accepted or not, his story raises a larger issue—habitat.

If something like Sasquatch exists, it depends on the same forests, rivers, and corridors as every other species. As wild spaces disappear, so does the possibility of discovery. And more importantly, so does biodiversity itself.

Why This Story Matters

At its core, Sasquatch of the South is not just about Bigfoot. It is about attention. About listening to the land. About understanding that the unknown does not mean impossible.

Whether you believe in Sasquatch or not, David Cleaver’s journey reminds us of something essential: wild places still matter. Protecting habitat protects everything that lives within it—known and unknown alike.

Once a wild place is gone, it is gone forever.