Hunter Disappears – Found Dead Suspended in a Tree the Next Day, Mystery Deepens

There are places in the woods where silence feels heavy, and the trees seem to hold secrets that never quite fade. The strange death of Clayton Reed in the forests of Maine is one of those stories—a case that leaves behind not just questions, but an uneasy sense that something is watching from the shadows.

The Vanishing

On November 19th, 2003, Clayton Reed, a 37-year-old sawmill worker and lifelong hunter, left his home in Bangor, Maine, for a day of deer hunting. He was in good spirits, well-prepared with his gear: rifle, knife, backpack, thermos, food, and a GPS navigator. The plan was simple—hunt near the old abandoned quarry northeast of Bangor, and return before nightfall.

Clayton was experienced. He knew the local forests intimately, and the quarry area was familiar ground. He drove his Ford F-150 along Highway 9, then down a country road to the quarry, surrounded by dense woods and marshy trails. He parked, locked the truck, and set out into the forest.

He never returned.

The Search

When Clayton didn’t come home that evening, his wife Sarah grew anxious. She called Clayton’s brother Daryl, who knew his usual hunting routes. By morning, with still no word, Daryl drove out to the quarry. Clayton’s truck was parked, locked, with keys in the ignition and a map on the seat. His hunting gear was gone.

Daryl found bootprints leading into the woods. He followed them 200 meters before the terrain became too dense and swampy. Realizing he couldn’t search alone, he reported Clayton missing.

Sheriff McIntyre launched a search operation. Officers, volunteers, and guides combed the forest, following Clayton’s tracks northwest from the truck. The prints were clear—standard hunting boots, size 44—until, at the edge of a clearing, they simply ended. No more footprints, no broken branches, nothing.

Nearby, Clayton’s rifle leaned against an oak tree. The magazine was empty, the bolt open, and three shell casings lay in the grass. The rifle was clean, carefully placed—not dropped or thrown. No blood, no evidence of a hit, no sign of a struggle.

The Investigation

As the search continued, a sheepdog named Rex picked up Clayton’s trail but stopped where the footprints ended. The dog whined and refused to go further, despite encouragement from the handler. Experienced in dozens of searches, Rex had only ever acted this way near a cliff or when sensing danger.

Teams spread out, searching ravines, thickets, and swamps. Days passed with no results. Then, on the morning of November 23rd, hunter Brian Stone noticed a dark shape in the fork of a pine tree, 200 meters north of where the tracks had ended.

It was a body.

The Discovery

Clayton Reed was found lying on his back in the fork of a pine tree, 4.5 meters above the ground. His legs dangled, arms outstretched, head thrown back, eyes open. There were no footprints below, no broken branches, no evidence of climbing. The trunk was smooth, with no scratches or marks up to 3 meters high.

An officer tried to climb the tree but found it nearly impossible without equipment. When the forensic team arrived, they used a ladder to reach the body. Clayton’s clothes were intact except for a badly torn collar. There were deep, dark marks on his neck, and his backpack and knife were missing.

The Autopsy

Dr. Elizabeth Turner performed the autopsy. Clayton had died of cardiac arrest—massive heart failure. But he was healthy, with no history of heart disease. His neck showed deep compression, but not from hands or rope. The marks were atypical, as if something had squeezed with tremendous force but left no clear fingerprints.

Blood tests revealed sky-high levels of adrenaline and cortisol, indicating severe fear or shock before death. No drugs, alcohol, or poison. Breakfast was still in his stomach, confirming he’d died just hours after eating.

The Scratches

Forensic investigator Richard Cole found deep, parallel scratches on the bark of the pine tree, just below where Clayton’s body was found. They were fresh, about 5 cm long, straight and deep—too sharp for animal claws, too irregular for tools, and located at a height no human could reach without climbing.

On the ground, a patch of soil was compacted, as if something heavy had pressed down, but it left no clear print.

The Locals Speak

Detective Henderson interviewed locals. Elderly Ruth Collins described hearing strange, high-pitched cries from the woods on the night Clayton vanished—neither animal nor human. Forester Peter Graham reported finding animal carcasses in recent months, killed with deep, clean wounds unlike any local predator. He’d also seen large, elongated tracks with three or four toes, 30 cm long, which vanished into the forest.

Hunters began avoiding the quarry area, reporting odd animal behavior, malfunctioning equipment, and compasses pointing in the wrong direction.

The Evidence

Photos of the tracks showed prints too big and deep for any bird, too elongated for a bear. Biologist Dr. Julia Cross at the University of Maine confirmed the tracks didn’t match any known species. She suggested a deformed animal or an unknown object, but couldn’t say more without physical samples.

The scratches on the tree didn’t match any local predator. The official report stated Clayton could have climbed the tree while disoriented, then suffered a heart attack. His family disagreed—Clayton’s old shoulder injury made climbing impossible.

The Aftermath

Clayton was buried on December 12th, 2003. At his funeral, hunters shared stories of seeing something large moving on two legs in the forest, of strange tracks, and of screams in the night—always near the quarry.

The investigation was closed. The forest returned to silence, but the story lingered.

The Unanswered Questions

How did Clayton end up high in a tree, with no signs of climbing or struggle? What left the strange marks on his neck and the scratches on the bark? What creature could terrify a healthy man to death, then vanish without a trace?

Locals still whisper about the quarry woods. Some say it’s haunted. Others believe something unknown stalks the trees, watching, waiting. The case of Clayton Reed remains unsolved—a chilling reminder that the forest keeps its secrets well.

And somewhere in the woods of Maine, the silence grows heavier, as if the trees remember what happened that night—and are waiting for it to happen again.