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Obituary: Robert Taylor Abductee?

From: Terry W. Colvin <fortean1.nul>
Date: Mon, 02 Apr 2007 19:26:34 -0700
Fwd Date: Tue, 03 Apr 2007 06:49:13 -0400
Subject: Obituary: Robert Taylor Abductee?

Source: The Economist Print Edition - London, England, UK


Mar 29th 2007


Robert Taylor

Robert Taylor, a possible victim of alien abduction, died on
March 14th, aged 88

What was it about Bob Taylor? He was an unassuming man, steady,
phlegmatic, with a thick brush of white hair and a craggy
outdoorsman's face. He liked a pint, and a dram too, but not
when he was working. He smoked, but not too many. In his house
at the edge of Dechmont Woods near Livingston in West Lothian,
where he had worked all his life as a forester, there were very
few books. And certainly there was none that could explain what
happened to him on November 9th 1979, and why his trousers, of
thick navy serge like a policeman's and with useful pockets in
the sides, should have ended up in the archives of the British
UFO Research Association.

Mr Taylor set off that morning, with his red setter Lara, to
check the woods on Dechmont Law for stray sheep and cattle. It
was a damp day and, after he had parked the van and set off down
the forest track, even the noise of the Edinburgh-Glasgow
motorway was muffled by thick, dark fir trees. The dog ran, and
Mr Taylor's trudging wellingtons made the only sound. Then he
turned a corner into a clearing filled with light, and saw it.

It was a flying dome , 20 feet wide, hovering above the grass.
No sound came from the object, and it did not move. It seemed to
be made of grey metal, shiny but rough, like emery paper. About
half-way down it had a circular platform, like the brim of a
hat, set with small propellers. There were darker areas on it
that might have been portholes, but the strangest thing was that
the dome would be solid one moment, transparent the next, so
that Mr Taylor could see the fir trees through it, as if it was
trying to camouflage itself.

Both he and the dog stood stock-still with surprise. But then,
suddenly, two smaller spheres dropped out of the dome and came
trundling across the grass, one to his right, one to his left.
They were covered in long spikes, like navy mines, that made a
ghastly sucking sound as they dug in and out of the mud. They
grabbed his trousers, one on the right leg, one on the left,
ripping right through to his winter long johns, and giving off a
foul choking smell like burning brakes. Mr Taylor felt himself
being pulled towards the craft; then he blacked out. When he
came to, the visitors had gone.

So far, so impressive a story to explain a dishevelled
homecoming on a Saturday night. But it was in mid-week and at
midday that Mr Taylor crawled home, with the dog but without the
van, with a graze on his chin and his trousers torn, covered in
mud and with a thumping headache. His wife called a doctor and
the police. Mr Taylor felt no need for the doctor, and after two
days of a wild, craving thirst and the weird brake smell, he
felt fine. But he took the police to the scene.

And there was the evidence. A large circle and inner ladder
marks, which had flattened the grass but not dented the ground,
as if a heavy craft had hovered but not landed. Forty little
round holes, leaving the circle clockwise and anticlockwise, as
if spiky mines had indeed rolled out of it. But no track
entering or leaving the clearing, making the machine's arrival
impossible unless it was a helicopter or something dropped by a
mobile crane; and nothing of that sort had been seen in the area
that day or the day before.

Lights over Livingston

The detective sergeant in charge of the case did not believe in
space visitors. Mr Taylor's boss at the Forestry Department did
not believe either, and thought it was probably some secret
device being tested by the government. UFO debunkers thought Mr
Taylor might have seen a magnified image of Venus distorted by
the earth's atmosphere, which had made him fall down in an
epileptic fit. The press came; and by the time the story reached
Edinburgh, it was small furry creatures that had poured from the
spacecraft to attack him. I know what I saw, said Mr Taylor. So
doughtily and drily did he stick to his tale (and kept a camera
with him ever after, to take the aliens' pictures if they ever
came for him again) that the police opened a criminal
investigation for assault, the only one in Britain to arise from
a UFO sighting . It remains open.

Mr Taylor's neighbours proving much more sceptical, he
eventually moved away to an undisclosed address. But he also
became the most famous witness to aliens in Britain. His
trousers were taken to spiritualist meetings to be analysed by
psychics ( I feel pain from these trousers ), and on
anniversaries of the sighting UFO-spotters would gather in the
clearing, just on the off-chance.

The aliens, meanwhile, did not give up. Since that November day
they have filled the skies of West Lothian with glimmering
discs, strange lights and bouncing balls of fire. The Falkirk
Triangle now registers more UFO sightings, around 300 a year,
than any other spot on Earth. A good many happen outside the
Forge restaurant in Bonnybridge, where fireballs sail over the
trees and wingless planes are seen in the fields. Some experts
say West Lothian may be a thin place , offering a window from
the Earth into another dimension; others say the sightings are
linked to the lack of jobs locally, and cheap liquor. But some
know the aliens are just looking for Bob Taylor, or his dog, or
his van, in the place where they last saw him, suddenly amazing
them in a clearing among the trees.


"Only a zit on the wart on the heinie of progress." Copyright
1992, Frank Rice

Terry W. Colvin,
Sierra Vista,
fortean1 at mindspring.com
Alternate: fortean1 at msn.com

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