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- Jun 14, 2005
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Every time I read this passage from "Woodcraft and Camping" I tear up in laughter. Not sure why, other than I'm easily amused
The meeting occurred, as usually was the case with large game, on dry,
oak lands, where the undergrowth was hazel, sasafras, and wild grapevine. As
before, I had paused for a rest, when I began to catch glimpses of a very black
animal working its way among the hazel bushes, under the scattering oaks, and
toward me. With no definite intention of shooting, but just to see how easy it
might be to kill him, I got a good ready, and waited. Slowly and lazily he
nuzzled his way among the trees, sitting up occasionally to crunch acorns, until
he was within twenty-five yards of me, with the bright bead neatly showing at
the butt of his ear, and he sitting on his haunches, calmly chewing his acorns,
oblivious of danger. He was the shortest-legged, blackest, and glossiest bear I
had ever seen; and such a fair shot. But I could not use either skin or meat, and
he was a splendid picture just as he sat. Shot down and left to taint the blessed
air, he would not look as wholesome, let alone that it would be unwarrantable
murder. And so, when he came nosing under the very tree where I was sitting, I
suddenly jumped up, threw my hat at him, and gave a Comanche yell. He
tumbled over in a limp heap, grunting and whining for very terror, gathered
himself up, got up headway, and disappeared with wonderful speed--considering
the length of his legs.