In this day and age, everyone is trying to find novel ways of finding bigfoot.

They sing, they dance, they hoot, they howl, they play music, they blast calls, they play musical instruments, they even cook bacon.

They run through the woods and fields on ATVs and dirt bikes, they bang on trees with their special "bigfoot wood knockers", they rove through fields and forests on public and private lands with and without permission, all hoping to get the next "Patty film" or to be the next Matt Moneymaker. (Insert any other name you prefer)

They put out game cams, pheromone chips, and plant recorders, leave shiny play things, and use infrared and other special cameras.

They take photographs of everything and record the night away and every little thing becomes bigfoot.

I went to bed last night with a song running through my head: Sounds of Silence. (The Simon and Garfunkel version, if you must know. The first and best, although the one by Disturbed is pretty good, too.) Anyhow, this stirred the little grey cells (Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot reference) and this morning I was left with this clear thought:

Do you want to discover more about one of the most wonderful things to enter our lives? Or do you want to join the circus of confusion?

Do you want to be the one roaring around on an ATV or dirt bike, scaring off the wildlife? Or do you want to be the one to come up over the hill and see below you a still form gazing intently and silently at you?

Results can be obtained from any and all of these behaviors. I know that.  There is not one certain way to ensure results. You can't guarantee a free creature is going to perform on command. That's not how it works.

And I'm not saying that a few soft whoops, maybe a knock, or even a scream or howl might not get a result. But we never consider the fact that we have no idea what those things really mean.

One of the most consistent behaviors I have seen through the years -- through the decades -- that seems to produce the most experiences is -- silence.

People going about their business, taking a walk or a wander through the woods near their home, or across the fields, maybe a walk through a public park. They come around a stand of trees or come out into a clearing by a stream, and there it is. Something that can only be a bigfoot.

It is the people who make the trees and forests a refuge, a place to be honored, to be cared for. Those who go into those places that are special, who honor the ones who live there, sometimes leaving a gift of an apple or some such thing. Not to change the behavior of the sasquatch, but to honor him, to thank him for allowing the intrusion into his space, to thank him for the privilege of being able to enjoy what he enjoys, the nature of the area, the beauty of the living things there, to take in the peace.

You won't see these people shown on TV or on YouTube or sharing their experiences on a Facebook page. They hold these things close to their hearts and souls, knowing the miracle that is there for them. And knowing that to share is to open themselves to disbelief, ridicule, and even an invasion by the very people who come with the best of intentions, but who walk away calling it a hoax because their actions, their ways of provoking a response did not work.

Think about it.