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Sittin around the ol’ campfire the Dude says, “Where did ya get the bear claw?” Instantly, it took me back to the sunny Sunday morning on the Muskawatta River when I was tossing two fresh fillet salmon steaks into my cast iron fry pan a sizzling with sweet butter. The ol’ peculator was a bubbling up a western tune with every perk when all of a sudden over the horizon came this big bounding black bear a growlin and snortin anda heading straight for my breakfast. What’s a man gonna do? I made my little stature look as ferocious as a possible and bellowed out a war cry that even scared me. That ol’ bear stopped dead in is tracks, turned around abruptly and promptly charged right into this humongous pine tree, face first. he just stood there for a moment, swaggered a bit, then fall backward wacking his massive head on a protruding rock. Yep, he was down for the count, dead to the world, out like a light as pine cones fall all around him. I went back to eatin my breakfast, downing the last drop of coffee, and using my bannock to suck up all those mighty fine juices. All the well that mangy bear just lay on the forest floor completely unconscious. With the dishes done and the pack zipped it was time to clear on out and mosey on to the next campsite when I thought to myself, “No one is gonna believe this story without evidence.” I didn’t have a camera, cell phone, and I’m not an artist. Then it me. I took out my trusty Bowie knife and cut off one of those there claws. He didn’t flinch, move, or grunt. When I got back to base I washed the claw off and got some genuine Ojibwa beads and made myself a necklace, the one I’m wearing right now. Yep, bears don’t want to mess with this guy. “Really,” says the Dude. “You actually cut off a claw?” “Sure did,” I ways, “Has Northern Dancer ever told a fib before?”
Poto One – the beads. Photo Two – my hammock blowing in the wind – like me 🙂
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