Who Was Wearing The Bell
Man I have a bunch of these stories. I was in SAR as well, but all my creepy experiences have happened while camping or hiking.
This one's pretty tame...I almost always camp waaaay out, I'm talking 30-40 miles down unnamed dirt roads, up mountains, in canyons, etc.
A couple years ago I was camping alone out on a prairie flat, halfway surrounded by a forest. It's nearly winter and there's not a soul within 50 miles I bet. My big hound dog was with me, as always. It was cooold, like well below freezing, so I had a roaring campfire going.
Jake the dog was in & out, he'd wander off for awhile, get cold, and come back for attention and warmth. He has a bell around his collar so I can know where he is.
I'm drinking beer and listening to music, so I'm not paying much attention to his whereabouts. Mind you, it's pitch black out there other than the stars.
So after about 20 minutes, I hadn't seen Jake, so I call him. Nothing. I turn off my music and call louder. Nothing for about 5 minutes.
I hear his bell, so I'm relieved. I heard his bell behind me, which was odd, the treeline was in front of me, where he had been sniffing around earlier.
Thinking he was nearby, I relaxed and refocused on chopping some more wood. I could faintly hear his bell jingling behind me still, sometimes closer or further, and I figured he was doing the hound dog's job and smelling all around.
I'd say about 40 minutes goes by, and I hadn't heard his bell or seen him. So I call him again, and get up to walk towards the treeline. Big dark forest of ponderosa pine looms in front of me.
I shine my fairly bright flashlight around and into the trees. Nothing.
No sound, no sight. I'm starting to get nervous, getting "the willies" or whatever you want to call it. I hear some crunches in the woods, like sticks and stuff breaking.
Not knowing where my dog is, or much of anything other than "ok I'm going back to the fire where my shotgun is". I get back to my truck and my fire when I hear absolute PANIC barking from directly in front of me, from the treeline.
Tearing across the field is my dog at full tilt. You could never mistake a hound dog's panic bark from a bey or a yip or whatever else, it's unlike anything.
He ran behind me for a moment, and then underneath my truck.
Here's the creepy part: no bell.
He had his collar on, and the bell was clipped to it with a carabiner.
Sure as shit I put us both in the cab of the truck for the rest of that frozen night. To this day I still have no clue who or what was wearing that bell behind me for a few hours on a rural prairie flat in winter.