Many things have changed since my youth. Take camping for instance. Back in my childhood days, camping generally consisted of a blanket, a fry pan, an ax and a fishpole.
In the excitement of youthful adventures, in my seveth year; Raymond and I decided to camp out and spend all night fishing on Skull Creek.
Getting to the creek and selecting a suitable sandbar in the early afternoon, we still had time to fish after camp was setup and firewood gathered. But that evening the fish weren't biting, so after a few hours of no bites we decided to go to bed early and catch them when they came out for breakfast the next morning.
It seemed that I had barely rolled up in my blanket and had dozed off, when a thrown stick hit me in the head. Rousing up, I noticed that the campfire had burned down to a low flame, but i had enough light to see, to scoot over to where Raymond was laying. When I got there, he said not a word, but simply pointed into the darkness where huge luminous eyes stared at us from the bushes.
A quick war council and we decided that we were surrounded by a pack of ravenous grizzly bears, who must have tracked us upstream from the Deepfork swamps.
Now these grizz thought they had a couple of tasty younguns to chomp and chaw and gnaw they bones. Little did they realize that they had stumbled upon two mighty warriors of the Creek Nation and though there was no doubt that we'd be bear poop in the morning, it wouldn't be without a fight.
At a given signal, Raymond and I sprang to our feet. He had the ax and I had a piece of firewood. Back to back we stood and faced that pack of bears and my heart swelled with pride that Raymond protected my blindside, as I did his.
With a savage scream, Raymond threw the ax and charged the bears he faced. I followed suit with my stick. The bears in front of me were cowards and with a grunt, turned and fled. My path cleared and as I was running in the general direction of home anyway, I decided that my grandmother must be warned about the bears. I knew that Raymond was well on his way to being a bear's healthy constitutional, but swore that once the alarm had been raised, we'd all come back and avenge him.
One of the bears gave chase. I could hear him puffing and panting close behind, but my feet grew wings and over the ground I flew.
Imagine my delight, when upon reaching the house I found Raymond there. It was a miracle and I'm still in awe, today. Our joyful reunion awoke my grandmother, who was anything but pleased to hear how those bears had not only ruined our fishin trip, but also interupted her sleep.
The next morning...around noon; She sent us back to get our gear.
Sure enough, there was the tracks as plain as day. Those wiley bears had tied cow hooves onto the bottom of their feet so no one would know they were in the area. Yup. That's one of their favorite tricks, but everyone knows that.
In the excitement of youthful adventures, in my seveth year; Raymond and I decided to camp out and spend all night fishing on Skull Creek.
Getting to the creek and selecting a suitable sandbar in the early afternoon, we still had time to fish after camp was setup and firewood gathered. But that evening the fish weren't biting, so after a few hours of no bites we decided to go to bed early and catch them when they came out for breakfast the next morning.
It seemed that I had barely rolled up in my blanket and had dozed off, when a thrown stick hit me in the head. Rousing up, I noticed that the campfire had burned down to a low flame, but i had enough light to see, to scoot over to where Raymond was laying. When I got there, he said not a word, but simply pointed into the darkness where huge luminous eyes stared at us from the bushes.
A quick war council and we decided that we were surrounded by a pack of ravenous grizzly bears, who must have tracked us upstream from the Deepfork swamps.
Now these grizz thought they had a couple of tasty younguns to chomp and chaw and gnaw they bones. Little did they realize that they had stumbled upon two mighty warriors of the Creek Nation and though there was no doubt that we'd be bear poop in the morning, it wouldn't be without a fight.
At a given signal, Raymond and I sprang to our feet. He had the ax and I had a piece of firewood. Back to back we stood and faced that pack of bears and my heart swelled with pride that Raymond protected my blindside, as I did his.
With a savage scream, Raymond threw the ax and charged the bears he faced. I followed suit with my stick. The bears in front of me were cowards and with a grunt, turned and fled. My path cleared and as I was running in the general direction of home anyway, I decided that my grandmother must be warned about the bears. I knew that Raymond was well on his way to being a bear's healthy constitutional, but swore that once the alarm had been raised, we'd all come back and avenge him.
One of the bears gave chase. I could hear him puffing and panting close behind, but my feet grew wings and over the ground I flew.
Imagine my delight, when upon reaching the house I found Raymond there. It was a miracle and I'm still in awe, today. Our joyful reunion awoke my grandmother, who was anything but pleased to hear how those bears had not only ruined our fishin trip, but also interupted her sleep.
The next morning...around noon; She sent us back to get our gear.
Sure enough, there was the tracks as plain as day. Those wiley bears had tied cow hooves onto the bottom of their feet so no one would know they were in the area. Yup. That's one of their favorite tricks, but everyone knows that.
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