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I feel I need to set the record straight concerning Watchman’s sadly mistaken yarn. It seems he was a might crazier than usual. The truth of the story is a bit different than that snowcrazed varmit remembers. I had been out prayin and meditatin when I got a hankerin to start wittlin a fine piece fer my wife. I was just sittin back eyein my wittled owl for the final touches when ol’ Watchman came stumblin into my camp.
Seems he had been out trappin and couldn’t find his way back to his camp. He kept mumbling something about that low down skunk Walks Tall leavin him out in the wilderness to die. Poor ol’ Watchman took one look at my wittled owl and got a raven mad look in his eyes (moreso than usual!) He grabbed hold of the owl and tried to pluck the feathers out of it sos he could eat it, right then and there. I had to wressle it away from him soas he wouldn’t break what few teeth he has left.
I gave him some vittles out of my supplies and listened whilest he told what happened. He and Walks Tall set out to find the creek to set their traps fer beaver. There was a smidgen of snow on the ground and they spotted some tracks so they decided to find who they belonged to. They were watchin the ground so hard that they got snowcrazed and laid down their traps. They had spent near a month tryin to remember where they put em. (It turns out the tracks were their own. They had been walkin around in circles.)
When his belly was full and he was rested, I helped him find his way back to his camp, which was a small lean to that had fallen under the weight of the half foot of snow we got the night before. There we found poor ol’ Walks Tall. He had managed to stumble round til he stumbled back to their camp. He was in sad shape, but did seem to have his belly full. Their camp was real slim on supplies, so I offered to leave what supplies I had with me since I had more back at my camp. That’s when ol’ Watchman really went raven mad cuz he discovered the supplies had been eaten by Walks Tall. He ranted and raved. Whilest he was a stompin and a snortin. Ol’ Walks Tall just sat there with a silly satisfied grin on his face.
By the time Watchman started windin down, it was startin to get dark and I needed to get back to my camp. I woulda stayed, but I wouldn’ta gotten a wink of sleep. So, I left those two varmits to settle their difficulties. (I knew that with their bellies full, they would be discussin til the early hours and then get some sleep and set off in search of their traps the next mornin.)
--Terry Bushwacker Campbell