Tag Archives: French Fusil de Chasse

A Two Hour Diversion of Sorts

Step by step, center-seamed moccasins paralleled the path. The hired post hunter left no trace. That December’s still-hunt dropped over the ridge crest, then followed the earthen doe trail. Twenty paces to the northwest the faint, crescent-shaped curve of the … Continue reading

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Careful Research Opens the Door…

Retaliation extracted a tolerated agony. Thorns poked, prodded and prickled. Mosquitoes buzzed about. The trade blanket, pulled tight as in a winter squall, offered some protection from itchy welts, but the cost was excessive heat, dripping perspiration and dehydration. In … Continue reading

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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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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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Only a Sentence or Two…

Daylight waned. Two gray squirrels frolicked, uphill, forty paces ahead. Half-hidden by boughs, a plump fox squirrel leaped from cedar top to cedar top. The hired hunter did not glance up, but detected the movement. A blue jay perched on … Continue reading

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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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A Chance for Rabbit Stew

Snowflakes drifted in calm air. The white blanket, laid upon the glade an hour or so before dawn, proved a pleasant surprise. A hint of aromatic red cedar teased the nose. Two square-cut trade shirts, a wool sleeveless waistcoat and … Continue reading

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