Hoooowwwlll! Greetings, little saplings! Grandpa Sasquatch here, a Fly Sasquatch of 1,500 summers and even more stormy winters. Got my wingspan stretchin' over three cedar trees and a memory longer than the Elwha River before you pesky humans dammed it. You all gather ’round, ’cause I got a tale that'll curl the moss on your boots.

This ain’t no campfire story ’bout how I wrestled a grizzly bear for a salmon. Nope, this is ’bout pollution, that slithering serpent that chokes the forest and fouls the rivers. Back in my younger days, when the Quileute still carved canoes from fallen giants, the salmon runs were so thick, you could walk across the Quillayute without getting your toes wet. The air smelled of pine and saltwater, not… well, whatever that stink is wafting up from the south these days.

Used to be, old Hawking, the human Hawking – not the smart one trapped in the chair, that’s a Keanu paradox I don’t even wanna ponder – he was a friend. Shared berries, taught me some star names. Then he got greedy. Sawmills, factories, dumping waste… everything for a shiny rock he called 'profit.' He became my nemesis.

I took to the skies, a whirlwind of fur and feather, and found the source: a pipe spewing black sludge into the river. It stunk worse than a skunk convention in a garlic patch. I roared, a sound that shook the mountains and sent eagles scattering. I ripped that pipe out of the ground with my bare hands, scattering Hawking’s workers like pine needles in a hurricane.

But the damage was done. Many salmon died that year. The Quileute went hungry. And Hawking, well, he just built another pipe. That’s the trouble with humans sometimes. They learn the wrong lessons.

So, I started haunting him. Followed him everywhere, screeching and flapping my wings. I'd drop rotten fish on his fancy car, stamp on his freshly planted flowers, and leave… evidence… on his doorstep. Drove him near crazy, I did. Finally, he moved away. But others took his place.

Now, I see some of you littl’uns lookin’ worried. Don't fret. Old Grandpa Sasquatch ain't given up yet. I’ve got grand-Sasquatch-lings now, and I'm teachin' them to respect the forest and fight for the salmon. We might not be able to stop all the pollution, but we can sure make it stink a little less. Hoooowwwlll!