From the beginning of time, life seems to be filled with “conspiracy theories,” many of which turn out to be true.

I would imagine that when the theory was put forth that the Earth was round and not flat, the theory was labeled a “conspiracy.” and those supporting it were “conspirators.” Eventually, the flat Earth idea was tossed as the “conspiracy theory” was proven that we are living on a round Earth.

One “conspiracy theory” that has floated through several generations is the one pertaining to Bigfoot, the creature that roams about in nature. Although this has never been proven or disproved, I met a woman many years ago at a small gathering and instantly felt a sisterly bond as we were both from the same state. After meeting socially several times, one night she asked me if she could share something with me, and if I would promise not to laugh or think she was crazy.

My curiosity was dialed up, and I readily agreed to her conditions. She had grown up on the family farm in the southern part of our state. As she began her story, I knew she was telling the truth. One evening around dusk, she was out in the yard near their home. She looked up and saw what is commonly called Bigfoot. That area of the state had reported various sightings, but there had never been any conformations. This creature had raided their chicken coop, regurgitated on their truck, and headed back into the woods, leaving a repulsive scent behind him. I believed her and still do.

Conspiracy theory? Not in my mind, but some things are hard to prove, especially to a parent.

My mother was an “I’ll believe it when I see it” type of person. Most of the time growing up, when I told my mother something she hadn’t seen with her own eyes, I was told it was my imagination. My imagination became code for conspiracy theory.

When I was a senior in high school, we had made our yearly trip to Mullet Lake. We were staying in a different cabin that year because the one we loved to vacation in was being fumigated for bats. Apparently, the wet season the area had experienced that summer had caused the bats to seek shelter in different areas, including in cabins.

We unpacked and set up housekeeping for the next two weeks. As we went in and out of the cabin, we constantly made sure that nothing flew in with us.

After five days, I decided to take a short nap in the bedroom my mother and I shared. My father and brother were in the other bedroom. We did not have doors, but vintage twin bedspreads on rods covered the openings to our rooms.

I started to drift off to sleep and heard a squeak. At first I thought it was the old metal bed springs on the vintage steel bed, but it wasn’t. I arose from the bed trying to hone in on the small squeak. Finally, I zeroed in on a little mirrored cabinet located on the wall over the bed.

After trying to peer behind the cabinet, I went to the kitchen area to inform my mother that something was making a squeaking sound behind the cabinet in our room. Mother reluctantly came with me into our bedroom. We stood in the room for five minutes, and there wasn’t one squeak heard. With a roll of her eyes, mother told me her famous phrase, “It’s just your imagination.”

However, I knew imaginations don’t squeak, and I was sure there was something behind that cabinet. That night we ate supper, had a rousing game of cards, enjoyed fudge, and drank frosty root bear. Mother and I went to our bedroom, and my father and brother went to their bedroom. As we put on our pajamas, I kept listening for any squeaks. I finally told mother I believed there was a bat in our room behind the cabinet. Mother told me I just had bats on my brain.

We crawled into bed, pulled the covers up, and turned off the light. I kept my eyes wide open. Mother pushed open the bedspread over the doorway a little so we could see into the kitchen where we had left on a night light. All of a sudden I heard the squeak, and this time it was moving. I heard a flit, flit, flit sound and knew something was flying around in our bedroom.

I poked my mother and told her there was a bat flying around in our room. Mother immediately dismissed my words with her “imagination” statement but stopped midway when she sat up in bed and saw the bat fly out of the room into the kitchen.

She screamed, Father came running, and she told him there was a bat in the kitchen. Father had nothing to catch it with, so my mother handed him a flip flop and told him to hit it with the flip flop. Father informed her that wasn’t going to work. I went out of the bedroom window and ran to get the owner. He quickly picked up his fishing net and entered the kitchen to capture the creature.

The next morning we were moved into another cabin, but when we discovered a bat in that cabin, Mother and Father decided enough was enough. We packed our bags and headed home. From that day forward, whenever mother started her “imagination” statement, all I had to do was say, “squeak, squeak, flit, flit” and she didn’t doubt me.

Nature and humans have their own unique set of conspiracy theories. I believe if you hear a squeak, you should go seek the answer to the mystery because it just might become a part of history.

Hmm, I wonder if there is a man in the Moon?

Kim Fortune is a freelance reporter and columnist for the Huron Daily Tribune. She can be reached by emailing hdt_news@hearstnp.com.