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I sat around the fire that we had made to cook our pine chili. It had been a long day of lumberjacking. We would sit around fires like this whenever we were on an extended job. It was the best part of the day. Young Henry was on my shoulder sipping pine chili out of an acorn bowl. The boys were rowdy that night. Splinter face Pete was spinning yarns about his conquest of the ladies. How much of it was true I don’t know but knowing Pete there was more truth than fiction. Spitting Dave spoke up.
“Gosh Pete. With all these stories I think I am going to have to put new meaning to the term lumberjack. I guess more jacking and less lumbering!” We all laughed. “What I mean is I am going to rub my penis until I ejaculate. This is due to my current state of arousal which you, Pete, have gotten me into. That is to say not because I have any attraction to you or any other male but rather the stories you have been telling have aroused me and there are no women present to help satisfy this very natural urge.”
That was Spitting Dave. Always explaining himself. That is why for a while we called him “Explaining Steve”. We all retired to our sleeping bags but we called them “slumber cunts” which was the parlance of the time. I am not sure what woke me. It was the dead of night and all the boys were sleeping. I caught the scent in the wind. It was a gentle breeze that blew through my beard which helped filter out the scent. Bear. And he wasn’t far. Maybe he smelled the chili. Maybe he was just curious. Never the less I couldn’t take a chance. I put a fist full of tobacco in my mouth and walked away from camp towards the smell. I saw him standing on two legs against a tree. Arms folded. He was huge and he was waiting for me. I slowed my gait as I approached cautiously. Brian. Fucking Brian the Grizzly. My strong wood tempered hands tightened on my ax. Brian had a bit of a reputation. Stealing, lewd behavior, rape, murder, see-sawing on government land, mopery and extortion were just some of the crimes this bear had been accused of. The problem is townsfolk never believed a bunch of rowdy, unkempt, face down in the dirt drunk lumberjacks when we would drink our way into town for help. It isn’t easy for a woodsman to ask for help of any kind so maybe it was to settle our nerves. All I know is that three of my good friends had been killed by this bear and I am pretty sure he had touched me inappropriately as I slept one time. All I knew is that it would end tonight.
“Alright Brian. You fucking asshole. It’s just you and me. I’ll fight you like a man right here. No tricks. No bear traps. Just a man vs. a bear who has been acting like a dick.” He unfolded his arms and dropped to all fours. He stared at the ax in my hand. Then at me. I nodded and tossed it aside. It was then when the fear hit me. What had I gotten myself into? This bear had taken down Tough Michaels who was the toughest SOB I had ever me. I watched him clean his own penis with sandpaper. I had seen him choke out a tree. Brian had torn him to shreds. I rolled up my sleeves and spit out my tobacco. I told Young Henry to hide under a nearby log. As I got closer I saw what I was up against. He had to be near 850lbs and twice my height when he stood up. He let out a roar that shook me to the bone. Then he charged. Such speed! He closed the distance between us in seconds. Then I shot him in the face with my revolver and he dropped dead. Bears are so dumb.
-Lumberjack Joe Steelington
August 1935