Sasquatch Novel
The Awakening
Book 3 in the
Conversations With Sasquatch Series

Book Cover for Conversations With Sasquatch, The Awakening by Michigan novelist Richard Rensberry.

Sasquatch Novel The Awakening

by Richard Rensberry

With Book 2, Cross Over in the publishing process, Book 3 The Awakening begins.  Once again the episodes are available here on my website for your enjoyment. 

Episode 7, Sasquatch Novel
The Awakening

Sasquatch Novel The Awakening by Richard Rensberry

     It is a joy to watch fate in action, a showdown of both wit and endurance between a man and a fish.  For the second time in our long friendship I am seeing Tecumseh break out into a sweat.

     As I watch the give and take, I lapse into reverie of my own personal battles as a conduit for the Sasquatch.  It seems that with my latest adventure with Demarcus, my fate has also become a game of push and pull.  It feels a lot like the tugging current of a river, whose pull is beyond my means to escape.  I can fight it, but it amounts to a waste of energy fighting something that exists outside my control.  I might just as well focus on the task at hand like Tecumseh and enjoy the ride.  

     Tecumseh’s laughter snaps me out of reverie and back to present time.  He is holding his pulsing rod in one hand and is frantically chopping at the ice with the spud in his other.  I am shocked to see that his hooked fish is too large to fit through the hole in the ice.  I reach out and grasp the spud to help, being very cognizant as to not hit the moving line from his rod.  Thankfully the pike has tired considerably and I am able to avoid such a heart wrenching mistake.  

     With the hole finally enlarged enough to accommodate the huge size of the fish, Tecumseh and I wrestle the thrashing pike onto the ice.  It is enormous.  

     After a congratulatory appraisal, Tecumseh kneels and strokes the fish with a gentle touch of pure affection careful to avoid its jaws filled with large, razor sharp teeth capable of ripping his hand to shreds.  The pike’s beautiful, glistening body looks surreal and powerful, its red gills gasping for breath.  I can see Tecumseh’s image reflected in the pike’s glowing eye.

     “Thank you,” Tecumseh whispers to the pike and turns imploringly to me.

     “Help me put him back,” he says.

     I am not surprised by this selfless gesture.  It is Tecumseh’s way.

     “You do know that fish surely breaks not only the Michigan record but probably a world record,” I tell him.  

     “That is why fate chose me instead of you or someone else,” Tecumseh replies.

     We lift and slide the pike headfirst back into the gaping hole in the ice.  For several seconds nothing happens, then the huge fish catches its wind and with a powerful undulating thrust slips through our fingers and is gone.  

Episode 6, Sasquatch Novel
The Awakening

Sasquatch Novel The Awakening by Richard Rensberry

     With winter at its pinnacle, I am picking Tecumseh up from his trailer in Comins for an ice fishing excursion to Lake McKinley.  It is still plenty dark as I load my old pickup with my winter fishing gear.  

     Though it has been extremely cold, there is only three inches of snow on the ground.  Large bare spots are visible where the wind has whipped across the open fields, collected the snow and piled it into drifts along the hedgerows.

     The cold dry snow squeaks beneath my truck’s tires as my headlights sweep over Tecumseh standing ready on the stoop of his trailer.  Our friendship dates all the way back to when we were teenagers.  We met cutting cedar and pulpwood for Abitibi Corporation back in the sixties, a decade that seems like a lifetime ago because it nearly was, a lifetime when we were guilty of the destructive clear-cutting practices we now fight so fervently to halt in the forests of Northern Michigan.  Youth is like that, training wheels on steroids.

     Tecumseh slips a bungee cord through the handle of his plastic bucket and secures it in the back of my pickup.

     “The fishing gods are rejoicing,” he announces, stepping into the cab.  “They have blessed us our feet to walk upon the water like your Jesus.”

     “The water of Jordon does not freeze over,” I tell him.  

     “No matter, for today we are kin to the gods.  We can walk on water.”

     “Yes,” I say.  “And like Jesus, we are good fisherman.”

     “Like my father and his father before him, and Big Brother, Chiha Tanka Bigfoot.”

     “The Sasquatch do like fish,” I tell him.  “I had some dried filets on my last visit to Cross Over.  The Bigfoot have a knack for spicing it up and sweetening it.  They certainly have considerable knowledge of minerals, herbs and the many uses of honey.”

     “Speaking of Big Brother, you been?” Tecumseh asks.

     “I did have another run-in with Demarcus,” I say.  “Quite strange, actually.  We ended up making what he called the cross, a peace treaty of sorts with a cross your heart and hope to die promise.  More of a mutual agreement of respect, I’d say.  By the way, he gifted me a souvenir to give to you.”  

     Tecumseh’s brown eyes drill me for further clarification.

     “It’s Decker’s bent gun,” I say.  “Probably as much a warning as a gift.”

     Tecumseh chuckles and nods his head.  

     I can see he is pleased.

     The roads are clear and the sunrise brings a sparkle to the frosted trees and shrubs.  We are blessed by a lack of wind when we reach the lake.  It is fairly comfortable despite the pressing cold.

     Lake McKinley, being spring fed is one of those lakes you have to understand in order to stay out of trouble in the wintertime.  You better stay off unless you have knowledge of the lake’s springs and currents.  The ice can be precariously thin in many areas, fortunately Tecumseh and I know the lake well enough.  It is actually safer well away from the shore than near it.  

     We pull our sled with all of our equipment on a jig-jog path to the left and head for the drop-off not too far from the spot Tecumseh hooked into his nemesis pike during the summer.  We spud some holes and begin jigging some spoons in about fifteen feet of water.

     I’m jigging a green and gold daredevil when I feel a tick and the resistance of a fish.  Thinking it to be a small one, I muscle the pike all the way up and out of the hole before it realizes it has been hooked.  To my surprise,it is twenty seven inches.  Not too small, after all.

     I toss my spoon back into the hole and on its descent tom the bottom, I hook another.  This one has some weight and fight.  When I look up to gloat at Tecumseh, he is battling one of his own.  Of the two, mine is the bigger one, thirty two inches versus Tecumseh’s thirty.  

     We catch a couple more small ones before hitting a long lull in the action.

     “Tell me more about Demarcus,” Tecumseh demands as he continues to jig.  

     “He’s deceptive,” I answer.  “I think he’s a good actor.  He was putting on a good show that day we rescued Decker.  Demarcus told me he has some sort of a pact with a group of rebellious Sasquatch and a band of complicit humans.”

     “Complicit humans?”

     “Yes, missing persons.  They are teaching the renegade Sasquatch English and the covert nature of our human ways.”

     “So, there are other humans besides you and my Chippewa forefathers that have found their way to the other side?”

     “Yes, that was the message.  Loquius has also said as much.”

     Tecumseh pauses and tilts his head.  “It’s him!” he exclaims with a rapturous grin.  His little ice fishing rod is bent into a U and jerking wildly as line is being stripped off the reel.  Tecumseh grins, he is in no hurry and  is patient with letting the line play out, careful to use just enough resistance in order to turn the fish and begin the retrieve.  

     “Giigooh na, my friend,” he exclaims to the pike.  

Episode 5, Sasquatch Novel
The Awakening

Sasquatch Novel The Awakening by Richard Rensberry

     This morning I am excited to see that I will be receiving my results back from the research lab about the nature of the contents in the Sasquatch chewing tobacco.  I know this because I have an app in my phone that has forewarned me of what the mailman is stuffing into my mailbox.  It is useful knowledge for planning my day.  To the Sasquatch and Ted Kaczynski, such technical minutia are considered demons of destruction,  but I actually find some of them useful, at least to a certain degree.

     Man is man.  We are where we are at.  To me, construction outweighing destruction is the demarcation line.  I can’t nor don’t want to revert all of technology back to the stone age, just the trajectory of where it leads in the future.  That is what I believe the Sasquatch are attempting to help me do with their parchments and the simple plant called kenaf.  I am game to see where it leads.  I am interested in both the questions and the answers.  

     The lab from which I have received my results is a brand new high tech lab located in San Diego, California.  They can tell you exactly what and how much of what is in anything.  In this case, my Sasquatch chewing tobacco. 

     They have informed me that it is a concentrated mix of cellulose, minerals and cell salts.  It has high concentrations of selenium, boron, iodine, magnesium and a whole bunch of other trace elements such as colloidal silver, colloidal copper, and zinc.  

     And guess what, I can deduce and extrapolate.  I happen to know a Doctor in Hillman, Michigan who has done a massive amount of research on the infamous Covid 19 virus that has our world, our government, and medical communities all in a tizzy.  

     This doctor’s research has led to his super mineral complex that prevents the Corona virus from penetrating the cell wall.  These minerals and cell salts fortify the immune system and are a natural preventative from contracting the virus.  The virus breaks into harmless pieces when it encounters the cells mineral fortified walls.  Like anything, nothing is absolute, but our natural immune system is much more absolute than some RNA manipulating vaccination by Pfizer.  These new fangled vaccinations being propagated and touted by big pharmaceutical companies are not even close to an absolute, they actually have all kinds of adverse side effects including death.  Which is better?  A mineral enriched Sasquatch chewing tobacco or a vial full of chemicals and pieces of RNA from aborted fetuses and contagious viruses?   

     To me that’s a simple answer.  I am going to put my trust in the Sasquatch Council of Elders and their chewing tobacco.  

     Besides my trust in the Sasquatch Council, I am now certain of the minerals efficacy for the simple reason that my Doctor friend is being censored and attacked by big tech and big Pharma.  The Facebook and Twitter Police have hunted him down and thrown him into censorship prison for revealing the truth about immune boosting minerals.  Regarding the abuse of modern technology, Ted Kaczynski was exactly right;  Unabomber or not, the man was a genius.  

Episode 4, Sasquatch Novel
The Awakening

Sasquatch Novel The Awakening

     I traverse the ten yards to where Demarcus has leaned the useless gun up against the tree.  I want it, not for any specific reason that I can think of, except as a cool gift to give to Tecumseh for his memory bank.  I think he will get a kick out of having it around to re-experience his first and only Bigfoot encounter.   

     The forest around me has returned to its blanketed silence.  There is still no sign of Loquius and I am once again overwhelmed with the feeling that maybe I have been set-up.  

     “What are you doing, Loquius?” I ask the snow laden trees. 

     The only answer is a rustle from the arctic wind.  It is beginning to have a chilling bite and icicles are hanging from the hairs of my nostrils.  

     “Okay,” I say.  “You have taught me that nothing is by coincidence, and you are going to have some explaining to do the next time we meet.  We both need some answers.  I will fulfill my promise and go and do my part with the parchments and goodie bags, but you need to own up.”

     I have a sense he can hear me.  Maybe it is the warmth that I can feel in the Stone Without Time, or maybe he’s nearer than I think, whichever, it gives me comfort and I am ready to tackle the tasks relegated to me by Rutheeus.  I impulsively reach out with my index finger and momentarily feel the resistance of a finger pushing back from the other side.  

(to be continued)

Episode 3, Sasquatch Novel
The Awakening 

Sasquatch Novel The Awakening

     If I were kidnapped by a Bigfoot like Demarcus and hauled off to Cross Over, would I be content to remain there and teach the Sasquatch English?  Not an easy question to answer.  Possibly, if I were not harmed, it could be tempting and even somewhat attractive considering the dark state our world has descended into, especially if I weren’t tied down to a family and I was granted human companionship to go along with my mission with the Sasquatch.  I can almost imagine a little colony of humans prospering and very happy somewhere in Cross Over.

     I have to wonder if Demarcus and his buddies are engaged upon some sort of benevolent plot similar to that in which I am engaged with Loquius and the Council of Elders?  Is it the Bigfoot renegade's goal to help the human race as well?  Rutheeus had warned me that the exiles would be of no help, but I am getting a different message from Demarcus. 

     It now seems quite plausible to me that I was a planned target of Demarcus’ that first time we met in the woods.  If it hadn't been for the intervention of Loquius at the right moment, I may very well be teaching Sasquatch verbs and nouns somewhere in Cross Over at this moment.  

     Once more a Bigfoot encounter has me grappling with a swirl of questions.  How much or how little does Loquius and the Council know?

     According to one of their parchment precepts; Nothing Happens by Coincidence.  

     Looking at the is of what is, I have to wonder if the exiling ceremony conducted by Loquius and Rutheeus was simply a show for my benefit?  Are there two Bigfoot plots at odds with each other or are they one in the same?

     I want to trust my Sasquatch friend and mentors from the Council; and yet I have an inkling of a possibility that I might be being played.  I remember the exact same feeling overtaking me when Loquius gifted me the Stone Without Time, an inkling that he was somehow leveraging my curiosity and naivety for some ulterior motive.  Am I the chosen one or just a dupe in a game of Sasquatchery with a plot far greater than I can comprehend?

     I am contracting a case of the shakes as I stand here contemplating my role in this game, not so much from the cold, but from the implications suggested by this new encounter.  Where did Demarcus snatch his captives from?  Should I be concerned and do I have an ethical obligation to find these people and bring them back from Cross Over in order to continue their human existence?  

     I look at the spot where Demarcus had just been standing, it is now empty, except for Decker’s bent and twisted gun leaning against a beech tree.  A small cross has been conspicuously scratched into the gray bark of the ancient beech.  

Episode 2, Sasquatch Novel
The Awakening

Sasquatch Novel The Awakening

In a flash I find myself face to face with Demarcus.

 I flick the safety off on the 30-30 and it suddenly feels like a pea-shooter instead of a weapon.  

I have no qualms about shooting if I have to, but I promise myself I will only do so in self-defense.  

Demarcus is standing motionless about ten yards away.  

Any aggressive move towards me and I am afraid the bullets will fly.  I am very aware that I will have little time to land a fatal shot before his big strides would overtake me. 

“Demarcus,” I say.  “I have no idea why you were exiled here, but I have no fight with you.”

Demarcus swivels his head and looks about.  

“Loquius with you,”  he manages to utter in a clipped and guttural way.  At least that is what it sounds like he is saying, though I cannot tell for sure or if it is a statement or a question.

“Loquius my friend,”  I say with my hand over my heart.

Demarcus looks around once again, seemingly searching for any sign that Loquius might be about.  

“Fire stick,”  he says and points a finger at my 30-30.  

“Yes,” I say to him. 

He shakes his head very slowly as if contemplating the consequences of the gun.  Then very slowly he reaches behind himself and lifts Decker’s bent rifle up for me to see.

“Yes.  I saw you do that.  I am aware of your strength and power.  I will not use the fire stick as long as you intend me no harm.”

Demarcus once again nods very slowly.  I am watching closely for any tension in his legs that would signal the intent to pounce.  I am not nonchalantly taking anything for granted, but I am not seeing any signs of imminent aggression.  

“You help Chiha Tanka.”

Again, I cannot tell if he is asking or stating.

“Yes, at the bequest of Rutheeus,” I say to him.

Once again, Demarcus is dead still with his deep set eyes locked on mine.  

“No hurt,” he says, “Humans teach us how to speak.”  He raises a hand and points in the the direction of Dead Horse Sink.

“You hurt humans?” I ask.

“Not hurt,” he says.  “We make cross.”

Demarcus makes a cross with his huge index fingers.

“You promised the humans?” I ask.

“Yes.  We promised.  We make cross.”

“Thank you, Demarcus.  Can the two of us make cross?”

Demarcus once again raises his arms and makes a cross with his index fingers.  I slowly set down my 30-30 and return the gesture.  

Episode 1, Sasquatch Novel
The Awakening

Sasquatch Novel The Awakening


It is full blown winter on the ridge beside Big Creek and the cedars and pines are dressed in cloaks of the purest white snow.  It is beautiful, though its beauty is disguised in an undercurrent of deceit.  The muffled silence is but a trick up the sleeve of a polar wind that is building to blow.  For now however, I take solace in the fact that Big Creek is a wonderland to behold.

It has now been over two weeks since Demarcus terrorized Decker and sent him packing back to Detroit.  This is my first trek into the woods since then, with hopes that Loquius and I might meet for a wintery escapade out of Big Creek into Cross Over.  I have been suffering from a case of cabin fever and my body needs a good stressing to awaken from its winter complacency.  

Despite the harsh cold I have worked up a light sweat trudging around in the woods with my snowshoes.  My legs are screaming in pain and beginning to cramp from the unusual motions and exertions.  It’s no mystery to me that I shouldn’t get all sweated up in the cold, so I pause and prop my 30-30 against a tree and take a breather.  I am about a quarter of a mile where I met Loquius for the first time in the spring of 2020.  

As I wait, I can feel The Stone Without Time growing warm in my pocket.  It has been turning on and off for the past several days.  I have caught glimpses of Rutheeus and some of the other Sasquatch elders rustling about in the stone’s depths.  To my dismay, however, Loquius has been totally absent from all this wavering visions and I am becoming concerned.  Where is my friend?

I pull the stone out into the cold hoping he might be there for my benefit, but all I see is a swirling fog without any discernible shapes.

I feel torn, especially about the gun.  I have never brought one into the Big Creek woods for fear it would cause mistrust.  But with winter set in, I don’t feel secure without it.  There are just too many uncertainties and dangers to being alone in the woods in February.  Even coyotes or wolves present a present time danger I would never consider in the summer.  

With my body cooled down, I pick up the 30-30 and move towards the destination of our previous meeting site.  I am very aware that I am the only movement and sound in the area.  As has been the case many times before, the hairs on my arms and back begin to prickle from the looming presence of a Sasquatch.   

Sasquatch Novel The Encounter can be purchased here

Cover for Conversations With Sasquatch, The Encounter by Michigan Author Richard Rensberry.

The Bigfoot Parchments 
can be purchased here

Cover for The Bigfoot Parchments by Michigan author Richard Rensberry.