This story is fiction but I am using the blogging name of a fellow Skinny Moose Media blogger who asks to be recognized and written about. He calls himself, The Adventurist.

The Adventurist ventures into parts unknown as well as parts known looking for, well, adventure(s). His latest attempt at adventurism (is that even a word?) is to get other writers to write about him or something he’s written, etc. and in turn he will return the favor in some form or other.

I normally don’t participate in such things but my pea brain got to thinking and I thought, “What can I do different?” Here’s my story…….and I’m sort of sticking to it!

~~~~~~~

In a far away land, even beyond Oz, lived a man of poor means, needy, living on the edge, squandering for food most times but a clever man indeed. Before The Adventurist became a world renowned writer of his outdoor adventures, he often traveled for days throughout the forest in search of food to feed his family.

The Adventurist was keen in his senses and unlike most of us common people, had a way of communing with the animals of the forests, the birds of the sky and the creatures of the waters. In short he was a good poacher, never lacking for food but could just as easily been nominated for an Oscar for his acting ability had such awards still been in existence today.

One day The Adventurist grabbed his gun and grain sack and headed into the forest. It was a typical day of gathering food for The Adventurist and as he turned to head for home, believing he had captured enough meat to feed the hungry another day or two, he met up with the local forest law enforcement officer, once called a game warden, but these days referred to as a Species Viewing Preservationist Police.

The Adventurist and the SVPP chatted briefly when the man of authority asked The Adventurist what he had in his grain sack.

“Nothing really!” replied the Adventurist.

“Then you won’t mind showing me what the nothing is in your sack that is bulging the sides then would you?” asked the SVPP.

With that The Adventurist tipped his grain sack upside down and out fell a rabbit, a grouse, a Canada lynx and a loon. The SVPP stared unbelievingly at what he saw knowing full well that the rabbit and grouse were out of season and the Canada lynx and the loon were still heavily protected species.

“I think you have some explaining to do young man!” the SVPP said in a slightly raised voice.

The Adventurist was no dummy. He had been down this road before and thus began his sad tale of his starving family. For nearly 15 minutes The Adventurist lamented to the SVPP about his life’s whoas and the hard times that had befallen him and his family. He told of the unusual illnesses and diseases each child of his had contracted and how, once a writer of outdoor tales, was suffering terribly from writer’s block with seemingly no cure.

Fortunately for The Adventurist, the SVPP was a sucker, probably a long lost member of the now defunct democratic political party. Needless to say, the SVPP began to lecture The Adventurist back.

“You know,” he began. “There a laws in this country that prohibit people like you from killing the government’s animals. If we allow your kind to kill them off, the rest of us won’t have any animals to look at when we go to the forest on vacations. But I understand your grief and sympathize with the struggles you are going through. I once endured similar pains but now my government takes care of me. I have this job.”

The Adventurist stood silently by and listened being careful to exuded the body language and facial expressions that would tell the SVPP he cared, when in fact he just wanted to get out of there and leave this loser behind. He knew he had to play the game though.

“I tell you what I’m going to do,” said the SVPP. “If you promise me you’ll never do anything like this again, I’ll let you off the hook, only because I feel sorry for your family. I need remind you also that there are plenty of animals out there that you can legally take during the season but you can’t kill protected species. Do I make myself clear?”

The Adventurist was at his best. He mustered a large tear that cascaded down the front of his cheek. This touched the SVPP who actually bent over and began picking up the illegally taken animals and put them back in The Adventurist’s grain sack.

The two men turned to walk away from each other when the SVPP stopped and spoke with The Adventurist one more time.

“Before you go,” inquired the SVPP. “I’m just curious. Have you ever eaten a loon before?”

“Why, yes!” The Adventurist hesitantly said. “I found one dead in the road once and my family was very hungry. I took it home and salvaged what I could.”

A bit puzzled looking, the SVPP turned once again to walk away and then asked, “What does it taste like?”

“It’s kind of a cross between a spotted owl and a bald eagle!”

Tom Remington

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