Bear News Beartown News
OCTOBER 1, 2000



When I was a ranger in Rocky Mountain Park in Baniff, I was transfered to a new district. There was a stream of water coming out of a pass in the mountain that I was very interested in knowin' where it came from. I decided one day to travel to the top of the pass. I'd taken along lunch and my fishing tackle. On arriving at the top of the pass I saw a beautiful stream down in the valley below with a bunch of poplar trees growing near the river. I then decided on going down to try fishing in the stream.
While walkin' through the poplar trees near the river, I heard a noise off in the brush. Then I noticed a grizzly bear makin' for me. I climbed up the first tree that I came to. The bear walked around the tree and growled. Then he stood on his hind legs and tried to shake me out of the the tree. When that didn't work, he growled and left.
Thinkin' the bear had gone for good, ten minutes later I climbed down the tree, when to my surprise I see him walkin' on his hind legs towards me with a beaver in each front paw. I climed up the tree again. When the bear got to the foot of the tree he put the beavers down and growled at them. Then the beavers went to work. How the chips flew out of that tree.This was a bad situation! Soon the tree swayed and down I came.
What happened next you wonder?


The days have come when you can hear
An old gray squirrel cough,
A turkey sneeze, a chopper chop
An awful long ways off;

A thrashing outfit, too, resounds
All through the countryside;
There isn't nothing you can't hear,
Size up and subdivide.

It's fun to leave your coat at home,
And like as not your vest,
And roam the woods with one eye out
To spot a crowbird's nest;
It's easy now when leaves are thin-
"There 'tis, as sure as pop!"
No other way, for carrion crows
Don't let no earmarks drop.

There's new and old leaves everywhere, The past and present tense, And soon you come to Ely's line
And his pluperfect fence;
He hasn't fixed it since the time
They had the turkey shoot,
And them there crosslot Crams come through,
Erastus, Ned and Newt.

'Twas Preacher Beecher called these days
The gorgeous time of year,
And he used words for meat and drink
And air and atmosphere;
I'd like to tramp a day with him,
If he was here on earth,
'Twould add about two-foot, I guess,
To any wordsmith's girth.

Another thing that you can do
As you pervade the woods,
And that's to reinforce your hold
On root-and-erbish goods;
You know tall boneset, and you know
If gingshang grows around;
It's wuth, they say, when scalped and cured'
An English pound a pound.

Perhaps you'll bring back home with you
Some blackbry brandy root,
Or red thorn apples, cute enough
To make the youngsters toot;
Perhaps tou'll find some birch beer stock,
Whilst legging it about,
Or skunksfoot cabbage that will make
A sweeter kind of kraut.

Beats all how many things there are
Right 'round beneath our feet;
The season brings 'em out and makes
A tramp a glorious treat;
But don't taste blue cohosh
Or horrid henbane plant,
You'll want to go another day,
And if you do you can't.


A farmer named Muldoon lived alone in the Irish countryside with a pet dog he doted on.
One day the dog died, and Muldoon went to the Parish Priest and asked, "Father, the dog is dead. Could you please say a mass for the creature?"
Father Patrick replied, "No, we cannot have services for an animal in the church, but there's a new denomination down the road, no telling what they believe, but maybe they'll do something for the animal."
Muldoon said "I'll go right now. Do you think $50,000 is enough to donate for their services?"
Father Patrick asked, "Why didn't you tell me the dog was Catholic?"

An Irishman was walking along a narrow road with a bottle of very rare old whisky in the pocket of his coat. It had been a present from a good friend and he could hardly wait to get it home and sample it. Suddenly a car appeared out of the mist and knocked him into the ditch.
As he wasn't hurt very badly, he got up and started limping on his way. All of a sudden, he felt something trickling down his leg. "Oh, God," he prayed aloud. "Please let it be blood."




Copyright 2000 Claude Dern, All Rights Reserved
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