by Michael Joy
Sasquatch across the camp fire
Michael Joy
Published by Michael Joy
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COPYRIGHT Michael Joy 2013
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I could barely see the flicker of firelight reflected on the trees as I approached my campsite. With the wind at my back it was only then that I smelled my visitor, a Sasquatch had accepted my invitation. I slowed my breathing and tried to keep my footsteps steady and unhurried. Over my shoulder I carried a long gun by the sling, this left my hands free for a fishing pole and only a small string of trout. I breathed deeply to see if I could learn anything more of my visitor.
Sasquatch smell deep and earthly with none of the rancid stench you get from a bear. I had been burning juniper and cedar boughs for two days now hoping that the scent would draw one of the broad backs down to parlay with me. It had been long since I had met with any of their people and I did not know whether their manner of meeting had changed in those decades.
I was a long hike inwards from where I had left my vehicle in what was at least an area of public lands that prohibited motorized vehicles, and allowed only bow hunting in season. This meant that it was as isolated from people as one could manage and so I assumed a good place to seek out one of their number.
I knew that Sasquatch are loners, preferring their own company for weeks at a time. The wind was coming from my back and therefore he should be able to tell that only my scent was on the wind, and I brought no companions. Behind me on the other side of the stream a forest fire had reduced most of the underbrush this made it less attractive but it should serve to re assure my visitor that we were alone.
Coming into the small clearing which held my fire I could see the Sasquatch seated on the other side of the clearing his gaze upon me. He was sitting on a short length of tree trunk and leaning against the trunk was the haft of a war club, conveniently to hand. I assumed that if he had felt threatened he would have met me with the club in his hand. He pointed to the other side of the fire, my pack had been moved there. This meant that I would be sitting where the wind would carry across my left shoulder and move the smoke away from us both rather than into my face or his. Therefore I unshipped my shotgun and holding it by the barrel leaned it gently against the pack that held many of my provisions. I wondered in passing whether this meant that he had an objection to my personal hygiene, taking a full duck in an icy mountain stream is not pleasant and I had been content with a sponge bath under my arms.
When I had left to go fishing that pack had been hung from a tree branch more than 12 feet above the ground and 20 yards from the fire. Sasquatch leaned forwards and reached out one large hand to stir the stew pot releasing a flood of steam and the scent of cooking goulash. Near the fire I could see a number of empty foil pouches held down, by a small rock.
Sasquatch was reddish-brown, the hair not quite thick enough to be called a pelt. He had broad blunt features which went well with the heavy strength of his limbs and great muscled hands. Seated as he was I could not tell for sure how tall he would be if standing. Did it really matter? A Sasquatch is both broad and deep so that one my height would likely weigh 300 pounds. If he was only a foot taller than me he would likely mass 450 pounds.
His muzzle was slightly protruding in the teeth; I could see he had more incisors than most men.
I started with sign language, "friend…. Eat across fire…" I had been practicing the movements.
He snorted "you want to talk short man?"
"Sorry, the last time I spoke to one of your people we used sign language."
"Most people use English now." His voice was low and rumbly, probably as low pitched as I could hear easily. He continued. "Most of our people used sign language in the years past to communicate with the tribes; it was easier than learning all those languages."
"So they taught you so that they could trade?"
"Who knows, I think in their legends it was one of their medicine men who taught it to the other tribes and then he taught it to us."
"Really? I have heard the story a couple of times, sometimes it's a great chief and other times it's the trickster who does the teaching."
He smiled a smile that showed too many teeth," In our legends we are the ones that taught the tribes." He was studying me closely. Far to the side there was a bow and arrows I brought with me. It had been stored with the pack and as appropriate for a long bow in storage it had not been strung. Now it had been strung, it was a light bow with a draw weight of less than a hundred pounds. "So you are the one they call the Bowman you have talked with others of my kind before. So I will tell you part of another story, it concerns the one they call the trickster. After he learned that people of the tribes had been taught to speak with their hands he went out and talked to men around campfires and he spent much time making sure that they learned the language and used it often, the difference was that each time he taught it around the campfire he changed it in small ways, so that in the end the men he has taught will seldom reach agreement. So now we use English there is at least general understanding of what the words mean."
He leaned forwards to stir the stew again. "So what will we talk about?"
"Someone contacted me; they said there is a reward offered for anyone who can bring in proof that a Sasquatch is real. It's a great deal of money. Almost $3 million."
A Sasquatch grunted." We heard 2 million euros."
"You know?"
"Yes we know."
"So what can we do to help?"
"Probably nothing. The reward is offered, by a media conglomerate, is it not?"
"I don't know the details."
"I had hoped that you were a deeper thinker. Do you play chess?"
I glanced at the great club leaning against the tree trunk he sat on. The tree trunk was over a foot around and 3 feet long. I knew that most men could lift and carry something that size only with difficulty, while gathering wood from my fire I had become familiar with most of the fallen trees and branches immediately around the clearing. He had brought his own furniture for the meeting.
It was so simple to look at the broad blunt features and the hairy face and think primitive, but I knew more than him. Did I play chess? The question everyone asks when they want to test your tactical sense. I find chess boring, who wants characters, who have limits placed on them. At the same time I had expected him to show surprise, not that he would have as much knowledge of the situation as I possessed.
More disturbing than the club were the stew pot and the empty packages of goulash, I take it for granted that a Sasquatch will have acquired some material possessions that he finds of use. They could be bought or stolen. My stew pot is smaller than the one on the fire and I had only two foil packs of freeze-dried goulash in the heavy pack that I had carried in. Sitting there under the rock, I counted four empty packages. From the scent rising from the stew pot everything that had gone in there was the same vintage. Where had
those come from?
"So who told you to find us?" He continued.
"It was a phone call, from someone who said they knew I had met with your people and I was heading in this direction anyway, they said you should be warned."
"So you do not know the person. How do you know there is a threat?"
"Well I checked the Internet, there is a website set up where they are offering the reward. If you want to check on it, the contact will direct you to a law office, where the lawyers say they are holding the funds in trust."
"Even out in the woods we know better than to just accept a statement taken over the phone."
He began to ladle hot stew into my mess kit. Then he pulled the stew pot towards him. He readied a giant spoon he had been using to stir the pot. "So you came all this way just to pass a warning and an offer of assistance." I had been aware that we were alone, of course I had planned it that way so that he would come out to talk. Somehow I now felt more alone.
I tried to explain my concern differently."When there's that much money on offer, people can convince themselves to do some pretty stupid things. Did you ever hear the story of about a man who went hunting, and after he'd wander around in the bush for a couple of hours he heard a deer in the brush, then as he aimed his rifle he saw it move and he fired three times. Then he hurried over to learn that on the other side of the bush what he had heard was the radiator
