Monster

This afternoon was finally winding down. We had finished hanging the engine and rigging the skis on a newly rebuilt Stinson 108. I unfolded from the rear seats of the plane after returning from a rather chilly shakedown flight, and was met with the message that my buddy had shot a bear across the lake that is too big to move by himself. I quickly phoned Bran to meet me down by the bay with my hip boots and pack, grabbed the chainsaw winch and drove down to meet her. The boat ride across the lake drove the cold deeper with each spray of icy water across my face as the bow of the boat broke through wave after wave. As we approached the shoreline my thoughts of my personal misery dissipated as I saw my buddy standing on the beach with hands in the air in triumphant exuberance. We jumped in the inflatable jet boat and rocketed up river to the kill sight of his first Brown Bear.

The Bear "Kenny"


What Big Paws You Have