THE UINTAH BASIN IS HOME TO ALL SORTS OF HIGH STRANGENESS


                                                     

When a rancher bought the ranch in 1994, it had been vacant for seven or eight years. The rancher, his wife and two kids were curious about the impressive array of bolts that covered the doors and windows of the main house. There were deadbolts on both sides of the doors. Even the kitchen cabinets had bolts on them. And at both ends of the house, iron stakes and heavy chains had been installed. The rancher guessed the previous tenants had positioned large guard dogs in the front and back of the home, but he had no idea why.

On the day the family moved their furnishings onto the property, they had their first foreshadowing of the events that would follow. They spotted an extremely large wolf out in the pasture. The wolf cautiously made its way across the field, and, to the surprise of everyone, sidled up to the family, acting like it was a familiar pet. It had rained that day, and the family remembers the wolf smelled like a wet dog as they were petting it. 

After a few minutes, the wolf strolled over to the corral and grabbed a calf by its snout, attempting to pull it through the corral bars. The rancher and his father began beating on the wolf's back with sticks but it wouldn't release the calf. The rancher grabbed a .357 Magnum from his truck and shot the wolf at point-blank range. The slug had no noticeable effect. 

The rancher pumped another bullet into the wolf, which then let go of the calf but stood looking at the family as if nothing had happened. The rancher shot it two more times with the powerful handgun. The big animal backed off a bit, but showed no signs of distress, not even any blood. 

The mystified rancher retrieved a hunting rifle and shot the wolf again, once more at close range. The rancher is not only an experienced marksman but a big-game hunter of considerable repute. Five slugs should have been enough to bring down an elk, let alone a wolf. The fifth shot caused a chunk of hair and flesh to fly off the wolf, but it still didn't seem fazed. After a sixth shot, the wolf casually trotted across the field into a muddy thicket. The rancher and his father tracked the beast for about a mile, following its pawprints through the mud, but the tracks suddenly ended, as if the wolf had simply vanished into thin air.
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