YOU CAN CALL ME FRED
The area was known as the Little Delta region but I was beginning to wonder if it shouldn’t have been called Little Hell. For two days I had walked in a circle due to losing my compass somewhere while trailing the biggest moose I had ever seen, hoping to get a shot. When I discovered my compass was missing I wasn’t too alarmed at first thinking I would have no trouble backtracking to camp but it’s amazing how much this country looks alike when you’re down one compass.
I always considered myself an above average woodsman but I made the mistake of not taking notice of landmarks as often as I should have. I had enough gear to spend a couple nights out but with evening shadows coming for the second time since I left Forgotten Creek what I would do after that weighed heavily on my mind.
I had spent the day in a steady drizzle climbing the surrounding hills trying to spot a recognizable landmark. Soaked and tired I spotted a fallen spruce that would help block the wind and give me a place to stretch the tarp I carried to keep the rain off. I gathered the drier branches lying underneath the trunk and using dried needles and smaller twigs I soon had a fire going to dry out.
I was eating the last of the jerky and trail mix I had taken with me when I left the cabin and was thinking I would need to pick off a grouse or two tomorrow. I was listening for anything that sounded like a bear in the darkness and soon discovered that everything sounds like a big Brownie when you’re out in the wilderness alone.
I was trying to fight off sleep when I looked up and saw him standing just outside the light given off by my fire.
“Mind if I share the fire?” he asked.
“Where in the hell ...I mean sure be my guest.” I replied.
“Had any luck?”
“No for the last two days I have been los..I mean kinda scouting”
“I see. Good way to get to know the country.” He said while picking up a branch and poking the fire.
Realizing I was carrying on a conversation with someone whose name I didn’t know I stuck out my hand and said
“Name’s Glenn good to meet you.”
“You can call me Fred.” He replied.
“You know I used to hunt up here with a fella named Glenn” He added almost as an afterthought.
Still not wanting to confess my predicament I casually asked what he thought the best route to Forgotten Creek was from here. Asking if I had a pencil he drew a rough sketch of where we were and the most direct route to the creek. I felt immense relief having met this stranger who seemed to be as much a part of this area as he was in it.
I excused myself to step in the bush to relieve myself and as I was coming back I started talking to Fred once I was in earshot of where I had left him.
“You were asking about the hunting well I saw the biggest….”
As I came in sight of the campfire he was gone and at first I though maybe he had taken his own trip into the bushes but it was then I noticed the hat he had been wearing lying on the ground with a note stuck in the brim. Picking the paper up I read what he had wrote before leaving.
"I was noticing your bow you should try a Kodiak." Happy Hunting FB
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