posted on Jul, 26 2006 @ 09:02 AM
During the time we lived in rural Australia, my father had a close friend with an unusual occupation which required him to live alone in the bush for
two weeks at a time. He would spend a weekend with his family and return to the bush again. He'd been doing the same job for most of his life. Not
everyone was suited it. Some quit after only a few weeks or months because they couldn't stand the isolation and solitude. Those who drank were
useless at the job. So were those with average or above-average imagination -- they simply scared themselves half to death.
During the weeks he spent alone in the bush, my father's friend 'Dan' had a routine he seldom varied: he set up camp near water; commenced work at
daybreak; returned to camp towards sunset; washed, lit his fire, cooked his food and retired early. He moved camp when required to work on another
area, but his routine remained the same. He believed that adhering to routines was the secret to living alone in isolation for extended periods. He
didn't drink, apart from a beer or two during the time he spent with his family. He had a quiet, humorous manner and was calm in a crisis. He
listened more than he spoke. He was good to his family and friends; was a good neighbour and citizen. Most of all, he was extremely ordinary. My
father always described him as sane as a judge and the sort of man you could rely on in times of trouble (Dan was middle-aged).
Dan told my father that a month or so earlier, he'd had an experience that continued to puzzle him. He hadn't told a soul, he said, but needed to
discuss it with someone. He swore my father to secrecy.
Dan said he'd returned to his camp around sunset, lit his fire, ate his meal etc. and then wandered down to the creek to wash his pots and pans and
himself before retiring for the night. It was dark by this time. On his way back through the bush to his camp, he briefly saw (through the trees)
unusual light patterns in vicinity of his camp. He observed for a while and decided it wasn't the usual flickering of his campfire. So, leaving the
pots on the ground, he bent low and began approaching his camp from a different direction to the one he usually took. Circling slowly and quietly
through the bush in the darkness, he arrived near his camp. He crouched down low and observed the situation. In the light from the campfire, he saw
'men' -- 3 or more -- going through his belongings. They were fast and silent. Some were in the tent while others examined stuff around the camp.
In the firelight, their shadows looked tall.
When asked about their appearance, Dan replied to my father: ' They didn't look as they came from around here, that's for sure.' He added that
he'd never seen anything like them before.
Dan remained where he lay in the darkness and observed the creatures. He reached the conclusion they might be searching for him. He remained silent.
Then, they departed. Dan crept forward in order to watch. He said that a short distance from his camp stood what looked similar to an egg on legs,
about the size of a family car. The creatures and the egg departed.
Afterwards, Dan crept into his tent for his gun and bedroll. He slept some distance away from his camp that night, in case the creatures returned.
Next morning, Dan moved his camp elsewhere. He didn't see the creatures again and continued to follow his normal routine. When he returned to spend
a few days with his family, he didn't tell his wife, brothers or neighbours about his experience. It wasn't until approx. 2 months later that he
confided in my father. Dan told my father that if he (Dan) died or disappeared under suspicious circumstances while he was in the bush, he wanted my
father to contact the government and relay the story of Dan's experience at the camp -- because he (Dan) --- having thought about it calmly --- did
not believe the creatures he'd seen were human.
My father asked Dan why he didn't simply report it now, himself ?
Dan replied that if he did so, or if he told members of his own family, neighbours, etc., he would probably not be believed. Worse than that: people
would believe the years of solitude had sent him 'crazy'. He would be ridiculed, laughed at, mocked. And he would lose his livlihood. Dan swore
my father to secrecy.
My father didn't tell me until many years afterwards, long after we'd moved from the area. I asked what had happened to Dan. My father replied
that Dan had continued his job, alone in the bush, in order to provide for his family. It was a gutsy thing to do.
All this took place in the early to mid-60's, apparently. At the time, not many had heard of 'flying saucers'. The subject was confined to
science-fiction. No-one took it seriously: it belonged in the realm of Superman.
I asked my father if he'd believed what Dan had told him. My father replied that he'd never known Dan to lie, or even eggagerate -- that Dan was
one of those folk who basically lack imagination. Dan believed what he could see with his own eyes; did his job; went to sleep; woke up and started
all over again. This being the case, my father tended to believe that Dan had told the truth and suspected Dan never told another soul about his
The part I find most interesting is the fact the creatures did NOT have omnipotent powers; they didn't seem able to 'see' Dan down at the creek or
while he was watching them from his place of concealment. Unless of course Dan had experienced 'missing time' but didn't remember it.
There are most probably a lot of people who, like Dan, have never told anyone about their bizarre experiences for fear of being believed crazy.