cellini's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Facing charging bears and having to pee &shit I have a couple of days worth of stuff to talk about. But first, dub. Jesus fuck how I love old-school Kingston Jamaica dub. Give me the old fucking S.E. Pottinger shit. NOW. I have been back on a dub kick, playing my old dub discs for the last 4 or 5 days now. Inject that shit directly into my veins, please. Today was a hard hunt. I was guiding today. We got out there and what I was finding was bear sign, in spite of expecting to hunt deer. Bear sign fucking everywhere. It isn't hard to spot when you know what to look for. Nothing but a bear turns great big rocks over to dig out the grubs and stuff underneath. I could also see where they had been digging for acorns under the leaves. Big, wide pug marks where the broad front feet had torn the ground apart. Prints of the toes and claws in the soft Earth. This was of interest to my client. And as it turns out I know quite a lot about tracking and hunting bears. He wanted a bear. Suddenly he wanted to get bear in the worst way. And since he had one on his license automatically (I love the licensing system in this state), I agreed to pursue the matter. I have a rule about bears while guiding clients. They get to take a shot on their own. If the bear drops to the shot, then great. If it keeps moving then the rule is this: The client is requested to please run as fast as humanly possible to our rear and in the general direction of his vehicle while I hold fast and start shooting. Bears are good to eat and we have scads of them around here, so I don't feel badly about my clients taking one. I think that they especially get their money out of my bear rule. It is one thing to feel like you learned two hundred dollars worth of skills by hunting with me for a day. It is quite another thing to know that I will risk horrible mutilation and or death at the claws and teeth of a large apex predator for you, dear client, in exchange for that $200 daily fee. You get to run away while I crouch there on bended knee trying to put a good shot through the brain of a large, furious bear running straight at me like a freight train full of fangs. Hey, you're welcome. Yes, tips are quite welcome. Anyway, that was my day at work today. How was yours? Gosh, did the lady in the next cubicle really hand you *that* much paperwork? Goodness me, you had to work until 7 pm on that report? Actually I don't want to sound rude. I love this job much more than I ever enjoyed my desk job. My worst day of guiding beats my best day at a desk hands down. In fact, I LIKE THE WORST DAYS THE BEST. Yes. I find that I am the most satisfied with my work when I have spent the day knee-deep in a swamp, or freezing my ass off on a hillside, or dissecting some huge beast, or trying to keep some huge hairy thing with claws and fangs from killing and eating me. _________________ Oh right, yesterday. I'll come back to yesterday in the next entry. Right now I have to pee. 9:36 p.m. - 2010-12-10 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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