“One night I was camping near where an old river dam had been. I pulled the canoe in late so I just draped the tarp over the canoe and crawled in underneath it and fell asleep. In the middle of the night I woke up to the sound of roaring water. I crawled up out from under the tarp and the sound stopped. I thought I must have been imagining it or it was the wind through the trees or something. I crawled back under the tarp and the sound started again. This time when I crawled out it didn’t stop. The sound got louder and louder. I realized that it sounded like water ripping through the woods. Even the dogs had their hair on end. I quick pulled the tarp off the canoe and dragged it up to the top of a ridge and waited to see what was making that noise. Then I heard the voices, men yelling and a dull thumping noise. I huddled down next to the boat, pulled the dogs close and waited for the sun to come up to find out what was happening. Morning came and there was nothing to see.
To this day I don’t know what that was but I have my ideas. I will not camp there ever again. I was told that the land remembers, and that’s fine, I just don’t need to be there when it’s remembering.” – lone squirrel
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