Do you know about the Buffalo Ranch?

The US state of Colorado has a long and colorful history of strange and unexplained events. From the San Louis Valley to the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, residents have reported a wide range of bizarre phenomena, mysterious lights in the sky, unexplained sounds, and a disturbing pattern of livestock mutilations.
In this episode, we examine the experiences of one man who spent nearly a decade managing a remote buffalo ranch. an experience that would push him to the very edge of his sanity. It had been a long, exhausting day, and it was well past midnight by the time Jeff Sailors finally climbed into bed. He’d spent the afternoon and early evening constructing a new fence line on the eastern side of the property, then returned to the ranch house to tackle a backlog of chores he’d been putting off.
He hadn’t even eaten dinner until after 10:00, though he didn’t mind. He was still relatively new to the job, but he loved the freedom it offered, and he found the surrounding landscape intoxicating in its vast open beauty.
The summer heat had drained what little energy he had left. After such a punishing day of physical labor, sleep came quickly. A faint breeze stirred the curtains as he slipped into a deep, dreamless slumber. Soon, the only sound in the house was a slow, steady breathing, barely disturbing the heavy silence of the night. Less than 10 minutes later, that silence was violently shattered. Jeff was jolted awake by the blaring opening riffs of Immigrant Song by Led Zeppelin. The music was so loud that the walls seemed to tremble, and every pane of glass in the house vibrated as though it might shatter at any moment. Disoriented and still half asleep, he stumbled out of bed and made his way downstairs in a daysaze. As his senses sharpened, confusion gave way to disbelief. He owned almost no sound equipment, nothing more than a small radio on a kitchen shelf. There was no way it could produce anything close to this volume. He checked the living room. The television was switched off. That’s when it became clear. The music was coming from outside. It sounded as though a full concert had erupted in his yard.
Assuming someone had pulled up outside blasting their car stereo, Jeff stormed toward the front door. But the instant he opened it, the music stopped abruptly. completely. He stepped out onto the porch and looked left, then right. The night was now deathly silent.
The ranchard was empty. There were no vehicles, no headlights, no people, nothing but his own pickup parked nearby. He checked his truck first, then the barn, then the surrounding out buildings. Finally, he scanned the wide open pastures stretching out into the darkness. The only movement came from his two dogs, standing alert and uneasy.
He was completely alone. After a search lasting no more than half an hour, Jeff returned to bed, confused, unsettled, and deeply unnerved. The music had come from somewhere. Of that, he was certain.
What made it worse was the setting. He was living in the middle of a 15,000 acre ranch in a house located nearly a mile and a half from the nearest county road. And whatever had woken him that night had no business being there. Even if someone had managed to pass through the three perimeter fence lines, each secured with locked gates before reaching the ranch house, they would have needed a vehicle of enormous size to generate the sound levels Jeff had heard. Nothing about it made sense. But then again, very little about the ranch he now worked on made sense at all. As individuals go, it would be fair to say that Jeff Sailors has lived an extraordinary life. Today he owns an art gallery in Idaho with his partner Patricia where he runs a master horsehair hitching business alongside various traditional crafts. Born in Colorado, Jeff spent much of his childhood fishing with his grandfather, an experience that fostered a deep respect for the natural world. He began hunting at a young age and that passion combined with his love of wild places would go on to define him. At 18, he moved to Montana in search of work. Over the next 50 years, he traveled on horseback through some of the most remote wilderness in North America from the Canadian border all the way down to New Mexico, leaving hoof prints across landscapes few ever see. Along the way, he survived two bear attacks, narrowly avoided being mauled by an enraged buffalo, was struck by lightning twice, and even appeared in films alongside some of Hollywood’s most recognizable figures. He also spent 10 years working on a vast 15,000 acre ranch, managing a herd of more than 1,200 buffalo. It was during this period that he would encounter some of the most unsettling experiences of his life, events that would shake him to his core. When Jeff first accepted the position of ranch foreman, he heard quiet rumors circulating within the local community.
People spoke of strange happenings, not just on the ranch itself, but on neighboring properties as well. He paid them little attention. Jeff had never believed in anything resembling the phenomena the rumors hinted at. That changed within the first few months. One evening, his girlfriend was staying over. They went to bed around 10:00 on what had been a calm spring night.
Without warning, the atmosphere turned violent. Fierce winds began battering the exterior walls. Support beams groaned under the strain. Picture frames rattled loose from their hooks and crashed to the floor. The entire house shook as though caught in the grip of an approaching tornado. Fully aware that there was no basement, Jeff pulled his girlfriend from bed and rushed her into the nearest closet. For 2 or 3 minutes, the noise intensified to an unbearable crescendo. Jeff was certain the house was about to be torn apart. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, everything stopped. It was as if someone had flipped a switch. The wind died. The rain ceased. The thunder vanished. The house stood in absolute silence.
Stepping out of the closet, Jeff picked his way past fallen paintings and moose antlers that had been ripped from the walls. He made his way downstairs and onto the front porch. Above him, the sky was perfectly clear. Every star was visible. There wasn’t a cloud in sight.
Not even the faintest breeze stirred the night air, deeply unsettled. Jeff went back inside to clean up the damage and tried to get some sleep. But the following morning would raise even more troubling questions. At first light, he walked the perimeter of the yard and noticed something that immediately caught his attention. The ground had been completely scoured. The house sat in the center of a 4acre enclosure with an automatic gate at each end. Once a week, the buffalo would pass through, churning the soil so thoroughly that Jeff could easily spot tire tracks from any vehicle that entered. This time, the ground told a different story. When Jeff walked over to the nearest automated gate, he could clearly see his girlfriend’s tire tracks on the far side. left behind when she had arrived the night before. On the side where he stood, however, the ground had been scoured completely clean. As he expanded his search, the scale of what had happened became clear. A perfect circle roughly 400 ft in diameter surrounded the ranch house, which sat precisely at its center. Every inch of ground within that boundary had been stripped bare, as though nothing had touched it for years.
No footprints, no tire marks, nothing.
From that moment on, Jeff began paying much closer attention to the stories he’d heard. It wasn’t long before the disturbances escalated. He was woken repeatedly in the middle of the night by deafening rock music or by torrents of tropical bird calls echoing outside the house. Sounds wildly out of place in the Colorado high country and with no identifiable source. It was the morning after one such incident that Jeff experienced one of the most unsettling events of his time on the ranch. He had spent the early hours of the night walking the property, trying unsuccessfully to trace the origin of the strange bird calls. Eventually, exhausted, he gave up and went to bed.
When he woke at first light, he went downstairs to make coffee before starting the day’s work. As he rounded the corner into the kitchen, he stopped dead. Spread across the floor in front of him, arranged with deliberate precision, were the entire contents of his refrigerator, every item had been laid out in a perfect triangular formation, measuring roughly 6 ft across.
At the time, Jeff had two dogs. One was an Australian Shepherd named Moer, a seasoned ranch dog who had once saved Jeff from a buffalo charge. The other was a young blue healer he was temporarily looking after for a colleague. Muner, in particular, was highly alert. If anyone so much as turned off the county road a mile and a half away, he would bark and whine, giving Jeff plenty of warning. Yet, neither dog had made a sound that night.
When Jeff tried to let them outside, both animals refused to cross the kitchen floor. They planted themselves in place, visibly distressed. He had to lead them through the living room instead just to reach the front door.
Outside, Jeff searched for footprints, disturbed soil, any sign that someone had entered the house. There was nothing. The triangle, it seemed, was not an isolated incident. It would reappear again and again. On one occasion, the ranch manager, who lived about a mile away in a sprawling 5,000 ft home, called Jeff in the early hours of the morning. He said he had woken to find every single light in the house turned on, including the lamps beside his bed. They agreed to meet at first light. As Jeff prepared to leave, he opened his front door and stopped short.
Lying just beyond the threshold were three items from his kitchen drawer, a knife, a fork, and a spoon, once again arranged in a precise triangular pattern. As he walked the yard, he found more triangles. At the entrance to every outbuilding, silverware from his kitchen had been carefully laid out in the same configuration.
Later, he learned that the exact same thing had occurred at the ranch manager’s house. At first, the events were strange, almost abstract in their precision. But that sense of intrigue would soon give way to something darker.
In March, roughly 2 months after Jeff had moved onto the property, the livestock began to die. Not far from the ranch house, he discovered the remains of a mature male buffalo. And whatever had been playing games with symbols and sound now seemed ready to escalate. Jeff had heard the stories about livestock mutilations long before he accepted the job. At first, he dismissed them as either the work of predators or acts of sabotage carried out by competitors looking to harm the ranch owner. But over time, as the incidents continued, he began to notice a number of deeply unsettling consistencies. Throughout his years on the ranch, Jeff observed that the mutilations followed a strict seasonal pattern. They began every year in March and continued through October, with nothing occurring during the winter months. Each carcass was left in a distinctly unnatural state when the victim was a female buffalo. There was always an elliptical incision on the underside of the abdomen. One side of the cut appeared to have been made with surgical precision while the other was jagged and burned. Many internal organs were missing. Yet there was never any blood at the scene. In every case, the cow was pregnant. The fetus had been removed from the uterus and placed carefully at top the mother’s body. The mutilations of male buffalo were even harder to explain. In these cases, the penis was always missing, but the manner of removal defied anatomy. A bull buffalo’s penis measures roughly 3 ft in length and is enclosed within a protective sheath that covers it entirely. Yet, in every incident, the organ had been severed cleanly at its base near the scrotum, while the outer sheath remained completely intact. This would have required reaching deep inside the sheath to make the incision.
Something that should be physically impossible. As if that weren’t disturbing enough, each mutilated animal bore an additional marking. An orange triangular imprint appeared somewhere on the body. On bulls, it was usually found on the head. On cows, it appeared on the rib cage and sometimes on the calf itself. Over the 9 years Jeff served as ranch foreman. Between 20 and 30 buffalo were killed each year, resulting in annual losses approaching $50,000. Given the scale of the losses, it was inevitable that local law enforcement would become involved. At the time, the county sheriff was a man named Wall-E, well-liked throughout the community. As the mutilations continued, Wall-Ally became a frequent presence on the ranch.
During his visits, he would witness some of the most disturbing incidents of his career, one of which would ultimately drive him to resign from his position altogether. For years, strange fluorescent orbs had been reported floating above and around the property.
There was growing speculation that these anomalies might somehow be connected to the mutilations. Jeff and Wall-E spent many evenings attempting to pursue the lights across the ranch, but they always seemed to evade capture, staying just out of reach. One evening, Jeff was sitting in his living room reading when his radio crackled to life. Wally called in to say he had a ride along with him and wanted to conduct a patrol of the property. Jeff agreed. About 10 minutes later, Jeff watched from the house as the sheriff’s headlights passed through the yard and continued out across the open acreage. Much of the ranch consisted of rolling terrain. And every so often, Jeff caught brief flashes of the Jeep’s high beams cresting hills and dropping into gullies beyond the horizon. Nearly an hour into the patrol, the radio suddenly erupted. While he was shouting, he said he was surrounded and that he was getting out immediately.
Then the transmission went dead. Jeff tried repeatedly to raise him. There was no response. Grabbing a fully loaded AK-47, Jeff stepped out into the yard.
Roughly 10 minutes later, he saw the distant glow of the sheriff’s headlights flickering in and out as the Jeep raced back across the far hills. Something had gone terribly wrong out there. As the Jeep struggled across the uneven terrain and finally crested the last hill no more than 100 yards away, Jeff stood frozen, scarcely able to comprehend what he was seeing. Trailing the vehicle were six luminous green orbs arranged in a loose semicircle behind it. The sheriff was driving at speed. Jeff could see that Wally had a pistol in each hand, firing wildly out of both sides of the vehicle as he steered while his terrified ride along cowed in the passenger footwell. The orbs maintained their formation, closing in as the Jeep barreled toward the autogate. As while he reached the gate where Jeff stood, the two orbs closest to the vehicle blinked out of existence. Then the next two vanished. Finally, the last pair disappeared entirely. Without slowing or looking back, Wally accelerated past Jeff and continued all the way to the county road, disappearing into the night. Jeff was left standing alone in the darkness of the ranchard, shaken to his core. 5 days later, the sheriff handed in his badge. In the aftermath of these events, the ranch began receiving visits from individuals claiming to represent various federal agencies.
Among the most notable were agents from the FBI. On one occasion, several federal personnel stayed on the property for an extended period, coordinating with a fixed wing aircraft that flew repeated high alitude circuits over the region. For the most part, the agents kept to themselves. But after spending time speaking with them, Jeff managed to get one of the younger recruits to open up. What the agent said suggested that the FBI knew far more about what was happening on the ranch than they were willing to admit. When Jeff pressed him directly on the implication, the young man abruptly left the property and never returned. About a week later, two more visitors arrived. They claimed to be affiliated with a university in Michigan and said they were working on behalf of a federal agency. Their purpose was to collect necropsy samples from one of the mutilated buffalo. Unlike the previous officials, they were approachable and willing to talk. Coincidentally, a female buffalo had been found mutilated only days earlier. Jeff led them to a ravine where the remains of deceased cattle were dumped. When the scientists examined the most recent carcass, they were visibly stunned by the nature of the injuries. They were equally disturbed by the presence of older remains, mummified buffalo that had been lying there for years without decomposing in any normal way. They questioned Jeff about this. Jeff explained that he had spent much of his life around dead animals, both as a hunter and through his work with horses and mules. Until coming to this ranch, he had never seen a carcass left untouched by scavengers or blowflies.
Yet none of the mutilated buffalo had been consumed by carrying feeders of any kind. Unsettled, the two men collected their samples and prepared to leave.
Before they did, Jeff asked them to contact him if anything unusual turned up in their analysis. About a month later, one of the scientists called.
What he reported was deeply troubling.
According to the lab results, the blood in the mutilated animals had crystallized and become toxic. Jeff knew this could occur naturally only if an animal had been driven to extreme exhaustion, essentially run to death, suggesting that something had terrified the buffalo to the point of cardiac failure. Even more disturbing was what they found along the precise incision sites. Tests showed that the hemoglobin in those areas had been exposed to temperatures exceeding 1,100° F. This conclusion was based on structural changes that occur in hemoglobin when it is heated beyond that threshold. Jeff asked the obvious question. Could a laser have caused this? The scientist reluctantly agreed that it was the only plausible explanation. The problem was scale. At the time, the only lasers capable of producing that level of heat belonged to the US military, and deploying one would have required two semi-trail trucks just to transport the equipment into the field. Which left one final, deeply unsettling question. If it wasn’t the military, then what was operating on that ranch? Despite being a highly experienced hunter, Jeff never found a single track on the ranch. No footprints, no tire marks, no signs of human or animal activity that might explain what was happening there. In fact, he never found tracks of anything at all. We first encountered Jeff Sailor’s account while researching lesserknown reports connected to Skinwalker Ranch in Utah. During that process, we came across a small YouTube channel Jeff had created to document his life in the American wilderness. Over time, we exchanged correspondence with him on several occasions. Although he has since gone silent and has not updated the channel in more than 2 years, his videos remain occupying a quiet corner of the internet that is equal parts haunting and compelling.
While Jeff’s experiences differ in certain details from those reported in the Uenta basin, the underlying phenomena appear strikingly similar. It is important to state clearly that we are presenting Jeff’s accounts at face value and extending him the benefit of the doubt. Notably, he never identified the ranch by name in any of his videos and avoided providing precise location details. Beyond stating that it was in eastern Colorado, he referred to it only as the Buffalo Ranch, which is almost certainly not its real name. Some may view this anonymity as suspicious.
However, Jeff’s genuine affection for the land, even in light of what occurred there, is evident. We believe his reluctance to identify the property stems not from deception, but from a desire to protect both the ranch and its owners. We strongly encourage viewers to visit Jeff’s channel, which we have linked in the description. While the ranch related videos are compelling, his broader stories about life in the American West offer valuable insight into his character. The manner in which he recounts events, his tone, pacing, and body language, suggests someone reliving deeply personal memories rather than inventing them. Whether or not you ultimately accept his conclusions, his sincerity is difficult to dismiss.
Importantly, Jeff’s claim that the FBI became involved is verifiable. Archive Freedom of Information Act documents, also linked in the description, confirm FBI correspondents discussing cattle mutilations and other unexplained phenomena in Colorado during the 1970s.
These records further show that Senator Floyd Haskell pressed the bureau to investigate the matter on behalf of his constituents. Jeff provided a critical clue by stating that the ranch was located in eastern Colorado. When combined with his descriptions of the surrounding terrain and the orientation of the property and cross-referenced with the FBI documents, we believe the ranch was most likely located in either Elbert or Morgan County. This conclusion is further reinforced by the presence of another nearby property where even more disturbing events reportedly took place known to researchers only by the pseudonym Clear View. And that is a story for another time. Join us next week.