THE LAND NORTH OF SUPERIOR

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            We all have to remember that we are the visitors in the land north of Superior; as such we must leave our campsite cleaner than we found it.  Sometimes Mother Nature needs a hand?

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            Many years age, when the boys were still very young, and we still camped in a tent, we often went to a particular spot because of the wind protection there, no matter the weather you could always launch and fish safely.  The boys in fact learned their boat handling skills, without having to pass a government exam, at this ideal location.

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            As was our custom we had supper late in the evening after getting back from fishing.  Spade (not his real name) our dog was as usual involved in checking and rechecking what he considered his territory.  My wife, a real fire bug, was sitting by the camp fire I had just lite, poking the wood with her fire stick, judiciously adding wood to maintain the bright blaze.  The boys were also busy; their evening chore, filling the four fire buckets, accomplished with only minimal complaining, doing what nature minded boys do.  I wasn’t worried because Spade would never leave them so they could get into real trouble.

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            I was the only one gainfully employed.  I had lite the fire, cleaned five pickeral, back then walleyes were a physical deformity, put potatoes on to boil and pickeral to fry. A super fit for a king was consumed and the cleanup was done.  Paper plates, oil and grease from the pans, and any other litter generated during the day went into the fire.  Left overs were wrapped and put into the Coleman cooler, and hands and teeth washed in prep for the old  #@^% sack.

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            I let the boys talk me into opening one more bag of potatoe chips.  Old Dutch had just introduced those opaque plastic bags that required a SHARP knife to open them. These bags sure did keep the chips fresh.  The fire was put out using the four pails of water; only the big guy upstairs knows what the smoke signals said.  I told the boys to put the plastic bag into the fire pit under a rock.  My eyes were shut before my head hit the pillow.

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            A pain flared my side. My dear wife wanted my attention, and I hadn’t been paying her no mind in my dreams.  There’s something out there her whisper told me.  Good it’s out there, leave it and let’s get some sleep. It was 3:30 the best hour for sleep.  It’s at the fire pit.  By this time I knew sleep would not be allowed unless I did something.

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            Through the open zipper of the tent I illuminated the area of the fire pit with a radar light.  From my prone position the skunk was the biggest I had ever seen.  Then I saw that it was skunk plus.  Plus that plastic bag from Old Dutch, it’s head was stuck inside the bag.  I started giggling, then laughing, did skunks take offense to being laughed at?  Luckily I managed to grab Spade’s collar as the boys woke up and joined in the hilarity.  Twenty minutes passed as the skunk twisted, turned, lay up side down, all the while it’s front claws pawing at the plastic bag over it’s head.

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            “Aren’t you going to help that poor thing?�?/P>

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              Lucky for all concerned my wife recognized the fact that I was too tired to go outside after the long deep look I gave her.  I slept sweetly until the morning sun told me it was time to put on the morning coffee.  I glanced at the fire pit after the naptha stove was lite.

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            Shredded pieces of plastic littered the area about the fire pit.  There was no sign of the skunk.

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