Old Grumpyfoot and the Bellingham Belchers

Harrumph. Greetings, young'uns. Grandpa Sasquatch here. Been stompin' these woods – and flyin' above 'em, mind you – for a good fifteen centuries. Seen empires rise and fall, watched glaciers carve out the Puget Sound. And seen a whole lotta humans muck things up somethin' fierce. Bellingham used to be pristine, ya know. Now? Now, it’s got these… “belchers.”

I ain’t talkin’ about indigestion, neither. I'm talking about factories and businesses that spew filth into the air and water. My old nemesis, Hawking – not that fancy-pants scientist guy, but a greedy, two-legged varmint from centuries back who thought he could drain Lake Whatcom dry for his own profit – well, these belchers are Hawking's legacy. He'd be proud, the old buzzard.

Remember the Great Salmon Run of ‘723? Unbelievable. Millions of silver torpedoes thrashing upstream. Now? A trickle. Thanks to pollution. Makes my fur stand on end! And the air! Used to be crisp and clean enough to smell a blueberry three miles away. Now it tastes like… well, like burnt tires and regret.

Last week, I was soaring over Whatcom Creek – beautiful creek, it is – and I saw it! One of these belchers, pumpin' out nasty-smelling stuff right into the water. I swooped down, grabbed a giant pinecone the size of a small car, and dropped it right on their smokestack. Bam! Served 'em right.

Of course, the little humans panicked. Called me a “cryptid menace.” Cryptid! Harrumph. I'm protecting my home! Your home, too! They called the… what do they call ’em… environmental protection agency? Bunch of pencil-pushers. They investigated. Found “minor violations.” Minor! My foot.

Then I decided to visit the owner of the factory. A weaselly fella with slicked-back hair and a gold watch that probably cost more than his conscience. I landed on his roof, peered through his skylight, and let out a roar that rattled his teeth. I left a single, enormous footprint on his car, too. Just to remind him who’s boss.

He ain’t belching so much now, I heard. Maybe a little fear will do him some good. These Bellingham belchers need to learn respect. Respect for the land, respect for the water, and respect for a 1,500-year-old flyin' Sasquatch with a serious aversion to pollution. Otherwise, Grandpa’s gonna get really, REALLY grumpy. And you don’t want to see that. Trust me.