Rancher Feeds Sasquatch for Two Decades on British Columbia Ranch

There's something about a firsthand account that hits differently than any blurry footage ever could, and a recent video making the rounds on YouTube delivers exactly that kind of gut-punch storytelling. A 71-year-old rancher named Harold Weekes, who has run cattle on 60 acres of leased crown range in British Columbia since 1982, shares a remarkable 20-year relationship with a Sasquatch that began one brutally cold December night in 2004. What started as a chance encounter in his equipment shed turned into two decades of quiet coexistence along the Chilcotin plateau, and the story takes a heartbreaking turn this past November. Weekes describes finding a seven-foot-tall Sasquatch wedged into the corner of his shed between a grain auger and a stack of fence posts. The creature was malnourished, its dark coat patchy and dull, with a deep, half-healed gash along its left forearm that had reopened and crusted with frozen blood. Rather than lunging or roaring the way a cornered wild animal might, it simply looked at him with what he describes as total exhaustion. That moment of eye contact changed everything. Instead of calling anyone, Weekes leaned on advice his late father-in-law had given him years earlier, a piece of old bushman wisdom passed down from a man who had trapped and guided out of Anaheim Lake for three decades. The advice was simple: leave it food and leave it be. So that's what he did. And the Sasquatch kept coming back every winter for 20 years. What makes this account so compelling is the cultural backdrop Weekes weaves throughout. He mentions the Tsilhqot'in people, who have lived across this plateau and the surrounding uplands for longer than any settler family's records go back. There are old stories in those communities around Anaheim Lake and further west about beings in the mountains that are treated with a particular kind of caution, not fear exactly, but a settled understanding that certain parts of the high country belong to something else. Weekes never asked anyone to explain those stories in detail because it never felt like his place to ask. The Chilcotin region of British Columbia has long been considered prime Sasquatch territory. The vast, remote landscape of lodgepole pine, bunchgrass, and endless sky stretching toward the Coast Mountains creates the kind of habitat where a large, reclusive hominid could potentially thrive undetected. Indigenous oral traditions across the Pacific Northwest and Interior BC have referenced these beings for thousands of years, long before European settlers ever set foot on the continent. Names like Dzunuk'wa among the Coast Salish and various other terms across different First Nations languages describe similar entities, often with specific behavioral traits that match modern sighting reports remarkably well. Then comes the part that will stay with you long after the video ends. This past November, the feeding trough by Weekes' hay shed sat untouched for four straight nights. On the fifth night, something smaller came out of the black spruce at the edge of his north pasture. It was hurt. It was alone. And it looked at him, in his words, the way a child looks at the only adult left in a room. The baby stayed under his hay shed for six weeks. By the time it finally walked back into the timber, Weekes says he understood something about that Sasquatch and about himself that he had spent two decades refusing to look at directly. This is the kind of story that reminds us why the Sasquatch question matters beyond just the pursuit of evidence. These are living beings in a shared landscape, and the people who encounter them carry those experiences for a lifetime. Weekes lost his wife Denise to cancer in 1998, just six years before that December night in the shed. The emotional weight of his account is impossible to ignore. The video is worth every minute. Weekes' voice carries the kind of quiet authority that only comes from living something rather than researching it secondhand. Watch it, sit with it, and then come back and tell us what you think.