Category Archives: Stories

A Place to Be and a Place to Go

Saturday, 17, December, 1763: Eight Canada geese ke-honked, unseen and to the east. Orange, lavender and yellow marked the western horizon, beyond the Riviere aux Raisins. Snowflakes drifted all about. The air smelled stark and unforgiving. Mi-ki-naak’s nose dripped, but … Continue reading

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A Free Man in Eden

Mosquitoes buzzed about. A trade blanket, wrapped about the shoulders, pulled over Msko-waagosh’s head, fended off the barbed beasties. A nuthatch flitted to the fallen maple at his back. The little bird searched to and fro about the stout trunk, … Continue reading

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Such is the Mystique…

Gusty winds swirled ground fog. The air smelled of late March, not November, yet plain and ordinary. Dark clouds delayed first light. A large cedar tree, not eighty paces from Msko-waagosh’s humble wigwam, served as a temporary lair. The mist … Continue reading

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A Gobbler Dubbed “Black Bart”

Skin stung; eyes watered. The cedar bough bobbed in arrogance, celebrating its humble victory. Trail-worn elk moccasins staggered, then slowed. Thick clouds, coupled with night’s unforgiving abyss, shrouded the moon and stars. The glade demanded a heavy toll on that … Continue reading

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Chasing the Makings of Squirrel Stew

Black granules tumbled. The tarnished brass measure filled. Two taps against the Northwest gun’s inner bore freed stragglers, more habit than need. Two palm-sized maple leaves, yellowed and dry, rolled to the size of a death sphere, squeaked as the … Continue reading

Posted in Clothing & Accoutrements, Living History, Muzzleloaders, Squirrel Hunts, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

The Probability is Minimal

Monday, 25 April, 1763: “Ccttt…,” “To the right, by the tipped maple with emerging greenery,” Mi-ki-naak surmised. The second sharp “click” proved the first was not imaginary. The returned white captive fought the urge, did not turn, did not steal … Continue reading

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That Fine May Morn…

Bright green flesh fell. A tree frog landed on its back, splashing in the tiny puddle gathered in a cupped white oak leaf. The interloper squirmed and twitched, stretched and flexed before its left hind leg pushed it over. Rain … Continue reading

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A Time to Reflect…

Friday, 23 December, 1763: Two fox squirrels chattered. Sandhill cranes chortled near the Riviere aux Raisins. A crimson cardinal twittered about as if deciding whether to stay or move on. A solitary Canada goose uttered intermittent “ke-honks” on its way … Continue reading

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