The Hell with Bigfoot

I'm not telling you Bigfoot doesn't exist. I'm saying, the hell with him. You don't need him.

I understand. You want awe in your life. Your boyfriend or girlfriend or husband or wife is starting to bore you. Your job is a drag. It all seems kind of humdrum and predictable. If Bigfoot suddenly marched onto the front page, you'd sit up and take notice. Suddenly the world would bring you some excitement and awe!

OK. Fair enough. Who doesn't want awe? And throw in mystery and excitement while we're at it. Those are great things to add to anyone's life. But I'm saying you don't need to turn to urban myths and supernatural nonsense to get there. If you're watching a so-called "documentary" on the Discovery channel and it's recycling that faked 1960s footage of Bigfoot wandering through the woods, maybe that should trigger your BS detector. You're setting your standards pretty low. Maybe the fact that this "documentary" is sponsored by Jack Link's beef jerky or Mike's Hard Lemonade should suggest something is amiss. It's not that these aren't fine products, worthy of your attention; it's that one doesn't normally associate them with serious exploration of the natural world.

But that's just it. Awe has become associated with the supernatural. When did that happen? Why does the real world no longer excite us? Is there nothing about it that is wonderful or "awesome?" There's an area of study known as cryptozoology - the search for previously unknown life forms. It's a perfectly legitimate area of study, or it should be. Lord knows there are plenty of unknown species living on this planet. In fact, there are probably more unknown ones than known. Their discovery and classification should be cause for celebration. But cryptozoology has been hijacked by idiots and hucksters and urban myths and pseudoscience. No wonder fewer and fewer legitimate scientists want anything to do with the field.

Maybe there is something large and hairy trekking around the north woods somewhere and maybe there is something large and scaly swimming around Loch Ness, but there is not a shred of hard evidence to support either one to date. As I teach my first year students, the plural of anecdote is not data.

So does this mean I am a spoil-sport who has no understanding of what it means to feel awe? I seriously doubt it. I'm a big fan of awe; it's just that I look elsewhere for it. I believe you can stay in the natural world and experience plenty of awe. But I think that awe is even sweeter when you know it's not made-up stuff used to sell beef jerky to gullible people. There's no need to delve into the realm of BS or BF (Bigfoot) to find that awe. And just to be clear, I'm not talking about our need to experience danger or thrills, like watching a scary movie of a bug-eyed alien chasing a bunch of screaming kids around a parking lot. That's not what this is about. I'm talking about where we find real awe and wonder, not cheap thrills.

Here are some examples: The oceans on this planet (arguably the ocean since there is really just one big one that we've given different names in different places) are largely unexplored. There are things living down there that we have absolutely no knowledge of. You'll hear it said that if you drop a bucket deep (or maybe even not so deep) into the ocean and bring it up, there's a very good chance there will be a few unknown species swimming around in there. Understandably, they'll be small. Is that a problem? Does awe need to come only in large sizes? So how about the recent expedition (not covered by the Discovery channel, as far as I know) into an extinct volcano in Papua, New Guinea. More than 40 new species were discovered, and they were not the kind of organisms that required a microscope to see. Can you imagine a rodent over four feet long? Better yet, it was a very friendly critter. There was nothing in its natural history to produce a fear of man.

People will tell you they read supermarket tabloids ("Woman Gives Birth To Alien Baby") just for fun. In fact, that is the single biggest defense offered by people who regularly purchase such publications. It's interesting that most people believe they need a defense. Nobody I've ever met felt compelled to blurt out a reason when they held a copy of the New York Times or the Biloxi Sun Herald . But catch someone who's just bought the National Inquirer orThe Globe, and they'll tell you it's "just for fun." What they need you to know is, "I'm not the kind of empty-headed, gullible idiot who reads this rag and actually believes the crap they print. I do it just for fun." I suppose that's an important distinction to make, but there's also a chance that the "Bigfoot Stole My Baby" headlines actually do inform or reinforce the world view of some of these people. Plainly not you or your aunt Laura, but somebody down the street from her, perhaps.

Admittedly, scientists don't do a good job of communicating their work. Science is not well publicized. It isn't "sexy." I don't mean just the scientists, themselves, aren't sexy. It's how they do their jobs and what they find. Much of the science news I read is boring and, remember, I'm a scientist. Incredible opportunities to make science interesting are lost. Too many science reporters (or medical reporters) are not specially trained. They may be staff writers who pissed off their editors and got stuck with this assignment. But neither their hearts nor their heads seem to be in it. No wonder most readers or viewers yawn through such coverage. They're waiting for Bigfoot to make the front page. And while they're waiting, that story about Bigfoot stealing the Shroud of Turin that appeared in this week's supermarket tabloid will have to do.

Is there an optimistic way to end this piece? Let's try this. We haven't hit rock bottom yet. Someday you'll meet somebody who not only believes in Bigfoot (because of evidence he saw on a hard lemonade-sponsored documentary), but also believes the government has kidnapped a living specimen and is holding him prisoner in a special facility in Roswell, New Mexico.

Neither I nor anyone should ever deflect you from your search for awe. But neither should anyone, whether merchant or hoaxster, send you on a contrived journey to the supernatural to find it. There's enough awe for anyone who wants it, and it lives within reach in the natural world around us.

Bigfoot illustration: Athena Gubbe