The scariest experience I had in the Alaskan bush was not being attacked by wolves, falling through the ice or even flying with my uncle Lloyd when he was drunk. Not by a long shot. The scariest thing was being alone in the cabin with my dog and hearing a knock on the door in the middle of the night.
I knew that the nearest habitation was 80 miles away and that you would have to fly in or sled in and I had heard nothing. My dog ‘mede was growling low and the hair on his neck bristled. I heard footsteps crunching the snow outside the cabin.
I heard an odd snuffling sound. Not a growl or animal sound, in fact, it was like nothing I had ever heard before or since. The noise circled the cabin a few times. Occasionally I would feel a movement as if it were testing the sturdiness of the cabin walls.
Once I heard a clicking sound. A rapid “click, click, click” almost like the sound of a fishing reel. The fur was standing up on Ganymede’s neck but he did not bark but only growled quietly deep in his throat.
By the way, calling that place a cabin is being generous, it was a damn’d shack. The next morning I got up and took my rifle and peered outside. Nothing. No footprints. Not a sign of anything except for some new scratches on the door about chest high.
Creepy. This is a true story. The hair on my arms stood on end just writing this.
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