Veteran Biologist Captures Six-Foot-Ten Bipedal Figure on Florida Trail Camera

There's something about trail cam footage captured by an actual wildlife professional that hits different. When someone who spent 14 years working as a biological technician for the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission tells you they sat in their truck for six hours before driving home because of what was on an SD card, you listen. That's exactly what happened with Clint Adair, who shared his story over on the American Bigfoot Files YouTube channel. And honestly, this one has all the hallmarks of footage that deserves a closer look. Adair was part of a black bear monitoring initiative that deployed 16 Cuddeback Attack IR cameras across a 12-mile transect running through some of the most remote terrain in the Ocala National Forest. We're talking about 383,000 acres of sandpine scrub, longleaf pine, flatwoods, cypress domes, and blackwater creek drainages that the road system barely touches. The interior drainages feeding into Hopkins Prairie and Farles Prairie are about as remote as anything you'll find east of the Mississippi, and the isolated cypress heads don't even appear on recreational maps. For two years, Adair did his routine swaps every six to eight weeks, hiking through brutal Florida heat, wearing long sleeves to protect his arms from the scrub oaks, drinking two quarts of water minimum before finishing. He found exactly what the agency expected: black bears, deer, turkey, bobcat, feral hog, even a couple of Florida panther spore images and a river otter traveling overland between two drainages. Then he got to Unit 11. Unit 11 sat at the northeast end of the transect, about two and a half miles off Forest Road 88 through a section of forest that doesn't get much recreational traffic. The longleaf pines in that area are second growth, but 80 to 90 years old, meaning a high canopy with wire grass understory and a clear line of sight between the trunks. A shallow blackwater creek, maybe eight feet wide at its widest, ran through the area with tannin-stained tea-colored water and a white sand bottom that showed tracks clearly when water levels dropped. Adair mounted the camera on a longleaf pine about 30 yards south of the creek crossing, six feet off the ground, angled slightly downhill toward the sandbar on the north bank. Standard bear monitoring setup. The first three swaps in September 2015, November 2015, and February 2016 produced exactly what you'd expect. Then came April 2016. Clip 14 of 23 in that batch. Timestamp: 11:47 PM. Eleven seconds long. The trigger event was at the creek crossing, which was standard. But what filled the frame was not a bear. Here's where Adair's professional background really matters. He knew exactly what that Cuddeback Attack IR could capture in that habitat. The no-glow infrared illuminator produced clean images out to about 40 feet in open terrain, and in that longleaf corridor with the high canopy and sparse understory, he could see clearly to the tree line on the north bank about 50 feet from the lens. The sandbar at the crossing was lit well. The two longleaf trunks flanking the crossing on the far bank were visible at their bases. In clip 14, the subject entered frame from the right, moving west across the sandbar. It was upright. It walked on two legs the entire time it was in frame. It cleared the sandbar in six strides and moved into the shadow of the north bank tree line. Eleven seconds from entry to exit. Adair watched the clip four times before putting words to what he was seeing. His description: a person who is very large and not wearing any clothing. Now here's where the measurements come in, and this is why a trained biologist's account carries weight. During camera setup, Adair had measured the reference trunks on the north bank at 6'10" to the base of the first branch on the left-side tree. The subject's crown at the moment it passed between those two trunks cleared that branch. The subject was taller than 6'10". The build across the shoulders was broad. The arms, visible swinging during the six-stride crossing, hung low relative to the torso, reaching to a position Adair estimated at mid-thigh in their lowest forward extension. The coat was a very deep brown, dense-looking, not the sparse short coat of a black bear, but something thicker and layered. No bear walks like that. No bear walks upright across a sandbar in six coordinated strides with arm swing matching gait. Adair had seen dozens of black bear clips on trail cameras, and none of them looked like that clip. The Ocala National Forest has long been considered prime habitat for reports of a reclusive hominid, with the regional name often being the Skunk Ape or Florida Wildman. Florida's vast swamplands, dense cypress stands, and remote interior drainages have produced sightings for decades, and researchers have long pointed to the state's unique ecology as ideal cover for a large, intelligent primate that could remain hidden from casual observation. The tannin-stained blackwater creeks, the isolated cypress domes that don't appear on recreational maps, the roadless interior that the road system barely touches, these are exactly the kinds of conditions that make Florida such fertile ground for ongoing encounters. What makes Adair's account stand out is the level of detail that comes from someone trained to observe wildlife professionally. He didn't just see something strange, he had the reference measurements, the camera specifications, the habitat knowledge, and the two years of baseline data from that exact transect to compare it against. When he says the gait didn't match any bear he'd ever documented, that's coming from someone who had spent years documenting exactly that. The clip is only 11 seconds long, and like most trail cam footage, it raises more questions than it answers. But for anyone who's spent time in the Bigfoot research community, a nighttime trail cam capture showing a bipedal figure over 6'10" with broad shoulders, long arms, and a dense dark coat crossing a remote creek drainage in one of Florida's most isolated forests, that's the kind of data point that earns a spot in the permanent record. If you want to hear Clint Adair tell the full story in his own words, including what happened after he pulled that SD card, head over to the American Bigfoot Files channel on YouTube. The video is worth your time, especially if you're interested in how a career wildlife professional processes an encounter like this one.