About 18 years ago, my buddy Kyle and I went canoeing down in south   Georgia during the summer. The first part of the trip took us down the   Satilla, a beautiful black water river with white sandy beaches. That   part of the vacation was uneventful. The trip through the Okefenokee   Swamp was not, however.
Even at the age of 17 we were fairly experienced campers. Every weekend   we would hike or float down a river. We never left without first   plotting a detailed map and we had the best equipment a couple of   teenagers could afford. We always planned for the unexpected and made   sure to take an extra couple of days worth of supplies. The trip into   the swamp was only going to be a short day trip, leaving early in the   morning and returning before dusk. We were totally unprepared for what   happened.
We set off into the swamp early Saturday morning, leisurely paddling   along the well marked canoe trail. We took in the sights of the   gorgeous landscape, the beautiful plants and of course we marveled at   the alligators. The two of us were loving every minute of our trek.   Nearing midday, we became hungry so we paddled away from the trail a   short distance, tied up to a tree, and made lunch.
After eating our ramen noodles and jerky we relaxed in the canoe, and   soon both of us fell asleep. We woke up a couple of hours later and   started paddling back to the main path. We thought so, anyway.
It didn't take us long to realize that we were lost. Neither of us felt   any panic or distress. We had been in worse situtations and never   failed to get through them. We were both confident we would soon find   our way out of the maze in which we found ourselves.
The hours passed and the sun was getting lower in the sky. Still far   from panicking, we were growing a bit anxious. We were just chalking it   up to another 'Scott and Kyle Adventure'.
The sky continued to darken. At this point, we realized that we were   going to have to spend the night in the swamp. Again, it was nothing we   were really all that concerned about. We knew that the park rangers   would be out looking for us the next day since our return time had come   and gone. Kyle's family was staying in a nearby lodge, and even though   we knew they naturally worried about us, we also knew that they were   confident in our abilities and outdoor skills.
In the Okefenokee, camping is allowed only on platforms built above the   water. That way the gators can't get ya. Obviously, we didn't have the   luxury of a platform, so we tied up to another tree and just made   ourselves as comfortable as possible in the boat.
We passed the time by eating, fishing, and watching the gators. Soon   the sun had completely decended and it was night. It was eerily   beautiful, and it seemed that Mother Nature had cranked up the volume   to 11. The birds, frogs, insects and other swamp creatures became   louder and louder. We talked about the sort of things that teenage boys   talk about. We laughed and just enjoyed the moments.

THUMP. Something hit the bottom of our boat. THUMP THUMP. Again,   something hit our boat. Kyle raised our small lantern and we saw what   had to have been the largest alligator in the whole freaking swamp swim   past. If it was less than 15 feet long I would be surprised. It turned   around and came straight at us, hitting the boat again. Kyle grabbed   his oar and smacked the water, hoping to scare the damn thing away. The   gator seemed to grow even more brazen and aggressive and once again   made a pass at our boat, really hitting it hard and rocking it a good   bit. I felt like I was in an alligator version of 'Jaws'. We needed a   bigger boat, indeed! I too grabbed an oar and we both began beating the   hell out of the water. The gator went under us, REALLY knocked the shit  out of the boat, and swam away. We thought it had left for good,  but  it returned after about 5 minutes. We repeated this entire cycle  about 4  times. We were really getting scared that this fucker wanted to  kill  us. It swam away again, and we waited for it to make another  strike.
Then everything went silent. Instantly. And by silent, I mean there was   NOTHING making a sound. Not a fucking peep. Even the mosquitos that had   been pestering us by buzzing around our faces had suddenly  disappeared.  We both looked at each other; our puzzled faces were  illuminated by the  dim lantern. Neither of us wanted to say anything to  break the silence.  I don't really think either of us could have said anything, anyway.
SPLASH. SPLISH SPLASH. The sound was off to our right, probably 20-30 yards away. That damn gator again,   I thought. Thankfully the eerie silence was giving way to some sort of   activity. Nope, nothing else made a sound. SPLAAASH. This one sounded   heavier; more violent. I told myself it was still just the gator.
Kyle whispered. "Why is it so quiet?"
I didn't have an answer. Surely, no animal in the swamp was so   threatening that even the damn crickets and skeeters shut up. Not even   our gator menace had quieted the sounds of the Okefenokee.
Of course, as in all movie thrillers, the lantern went out and we   couldn't reignite it. And of course, as in all situations like this,   the clouds parted and the moon revealed itself.
And of course, the two teenage boys who up to this point were relatively unrattled nearly pissed themselves.
SPLASH! Something darted through the trees to our right. It was not an   animal. Well, if it was an animal it was walking on its hind legs. A   bear maybe?
"Christ. What in the fuck was that?!" I said, but not too loudly. Didn't want it to hear me.
"SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS". Something made a sound like air escaping from   a tire. The same figure we saw earlier moved through the trees again.
CRACK! THUMP. CRAAACK! The cracks were sharp and violent. The thump was   dull and had a hollow tone to it. Still no other sounds in the whole   freaking area.
"SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS". There it was again, only a little louder.

Several minutes passed with nothing happening. Our little part of the world was still deathly silent.
PLOP.
Something landed in the water right next to our canoe. PLOP. PLOP PLOP PLOP. It became apparent that the thing was throwing pebbles or something at us.
Okay, now this is getting fucking ridiculous, I thought. Bears   don't fucking throw things. Both Kyle and I simultaneously drew our   hunting knives from their sheaths, as if that was going to do anything   whatsoever.
What happened next was something I will never forget. It is something   that both of us wish we had dreamed. It is something that we don't even   speak about when we see each other almost 20 years later. Jesus, I'm   getting goosebumps and quite nervous even typing this.
CLINK. Something landed in our canoe. CLINK CLINK. Two more somethings   landed in our canoe. CLINK CLINK CLINK. Ok, enough with fucking THROWING   SHIT INTO OUR CANOE!
It was then we realized that whatever the objects were had come from   above, NOT from either side. We looked at each other, our faces so   white they rivaled the moon. At the same time, our gazes drew upward.
There it was. Sitting in the tree. OUR TREE. The tree to  which  we were tied. You know that goat in Jurassic Park that was tied  up for  the T-Rex to eat? Yeah, we were that goat.
I swear to christ that this thing must have been a child of the moon.   The moon seemed to cast down its light on our friend in particular,   illuminating it much more clearly than anything else in the area. It   was as if the moon wanted us to see this thing in all its glory.
It was humanoid- it had the body of a man with the head of the skull of   some kind of animal. It looked kind of like a wolf or coyote or   something similar. The eyes glowed yellow, and there was fur covering   the shoulders and upper body. This thing was built like a tank, too.   Its muscles rippled under its pale skin. It breathed deeply and slowly.   In one hand it held some sort of staff that was maybe 3 feet long with   a huge knot at one end. Around its neck there was a pouch made from   leather.
Oh, one thing I should mention is that this tree had no branches on the   lower half of the tree where the creature was. It was grasping the tree   with one arm, the staff clutched tightly in that hand. Its feet seemed   to be dug into the tree trunk.
With its free hand, he pointed at us. Keep in mind that Kyle and I were   in opposite ends of the boat, but each of us swore that it was looking   straight into the eyes of each of us. Strangely, our sense of 

fear went   away once it gazed into us. A sense of calm and 'This is gonna be ok'   came over us. Slowly, it withdrew its outstretched hand, opened the   pouch around its neck, reached two long fingers inside and took   something out. It slowly extended its arm again, and dropped the   objects into our boat.
"GWAHHHHHHHHHHHHH SSSSSSSSSSSSSKKKKKKKKKKKKKHHHHHH" is the best   approximation of the sound it made. It pointed at us again, then   pointed off into the distance, to our right.
It leapt from the tree, landed with a very quiet splash, and darted   off. The clouds gathered around the moon, and all the swamp's   inhabitants began making their music once again.
Of course, we didn't sleep a wink. We sat in silence for the rest of the night, too awed and scared to speak.
The direction it pointed to turned out to be the way back to the trail.
The objects in our boat?   Alligator teeth. Freshly dug out from a recently dead gator.
It was clear that this thing had been watching over us.
Once we got back to the canoe center, we told the story of being lost   and the gator to the park rangers and Kyle's family. We left the part   about our friend out. After we all settled down a bit, we talked to the   rangers about the history of the swamp, hoping to gain some insight   into what had happened. They mentioned nothing about ghosts, and   scoffed at us when we brought it up. They did say that many indian   burial mounds have been found, though... some 4000 years old.
Anyway, Kyle and I talked it about once and only once after it   happened. It was so amazing, unbelievable, and awe inspiring that we   have no need to discuss it I guess. As for telling the story, no one   would believe us anyway.