The Traveling Sportsman
The bear,
rotund and grazing like an angus heifer, didn't hear the purring of the
25-horse outboard, didn't detect the splash of rubber boots hitting
the water, failed to notice the scrape of stone against aluminum. Two
deadly predators eased their boat ashore under the veil of wind that
had danced with island palm fronds, gusted over sperm whales and
lifted albatrosses over the Pacific.
Wavelets splashed against the rocky shore. The hunters crept
forward. Sedges rustled. Boots pressed carefully into damp stones.
Hemlock boughs bounced and soughed. Hands and knees brushed
softly against spring grasses. Purple-petaled shooting stars vibrated in
vernal ecstasy before worn incisors ripped them free and masticating
jaws ground them to mush.
Despite the enthusiasm of its spring foraging, the bear heard a
metallic snap. It raised its scarred head and stared down the bore of a
.284 just 40 yards away.
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