A Grizzly Thanksgiving

By Michael K. Farrar, O.D.

© God’s Breath Publications

 

The 1800’s were a rough and wild time for those stouthearted men who braved the dangers of the mountains of the west. Some sought adventure in God’s creation; others sought to spread the good news as itinerate preachers. I share with you a fictional story that could very well have taken place.

 

In case you are unfamiliar with mountain man lingo, I’ve attached a glossary below for you to study so you “yabberin yahoos” can know what’s being said.

 

Mountain Man Glossary

 

“BRAVE AS A BUFFLER BULL IN SPRING” a brave man.

 

“CONSARNED” expression of exclamation.

 

“DIGGINS” home.

 

“FREE TRAPPER” the ultimate mountain man. A trapper who was his own boss, not working for a fur trapping company.

 

“HYARS DAMP POWDER AN NO WAYS TER DRY HIT” a bad situation with seemingly no way out.

 

“ON HIS OWN HOOK” on his own or by himself.

 

“ON THE TRAMP” on the move.

 

“PEMMICAN” Indian word for pounded dried meat combined with dried berries or currants, mixed with melted fat and stored in cakes. It could be eaten as it was or turned into a rich soup by adding water and heating over a fire.

 

“QUEERSOME” funny or odd.

 

“SKY PILOT” a preacher.

 

“SLIK AS SHOOTING” something done very well by trapper standards.

 

“YABBERIN YAHOOS” noisy companions.

 

“YE KIN SLIDE” you’re crazy or you can go to hell.

 

The Story Begins…

 

Bob Thatcher was a big man. He was a good 280 pounds and stood 4 inches over 6 feet. He had traveled to the west to make his living selling beaver pelts. He had an ulterior motive though for heading west, he wanted to get away from civilization and his pestering father. Big Bob Thatcher had a Bible-thumping preacher for a dad and he had rebelled against him and religion since he could remember. He had tolerated his dad for years, but when his mom had died he saw no reason to stay. Off he went to seek adventure in the mountains of the west. Big Bob was now on his way to the trading post to trade his pelts, gather supplies and head out again. He enters the large hewn log building where he can trade his pelts for much-needed supplies. He approaches the owner of the trading post feeling hopeful he can stock up on supplies.

 

“How much for these!” thunders Big Bob. He throws a huge pile of prime beaver pelts onto the counter.

 

“Consarned, you hauled it in this time. You’re slik as shooting for a free trapper. Go ahead and get your usual stock. I’ll throw in some sugar and extra pemmican as a bonus.”

 

“Great, I’m on the tramp so I won’t be here long. I wanna get back so I can make somethin’ special for Thanksgivin’ tomorra.”

 

“Yep that’s right tomorra’s turkey day.”

 

Big Bob saunters over to the shelving and starts stocking up his pack with foodstuffs. Another man enters the trading post. He’s short, stocky and appears to be a little better dressed than Big Bob but he’s not town folk.

 

“I need some beans. Got any beans?” the man says.

 

“Yep, we’ve got a couple different types over thar in them barrels. Price is marked on top. Take yer pick.” Replies the trading post owner.

The man walks over to the barrels of beans and notices Big Bob.

 

“Say you’re a big one. Trappin’ good?”

 

“Yep, what’s it to ya.”

 

“Didn’t mean nothin’. Just curious. Ever read the Bible?”

 

“What’s the Bible got to do with anythun? What are you a sky pilot or something?”

 

“Yep. Sure am. Been doin’ the Lord’s work for 20 years in these parts. I just get this feelin’ I need to warn ya about somethin’.”

 

“Stay to yourself and mind your own concerns.”

 

“Sorry. I just get this feelin’ sometimes when the Lord speaks to me. I get this hankerin’ to say something to someone but don’t know exactly what to say.”

 

“Sounds queersome to me. Ye kin slide for all I’m concerned.”

 

“Don’t mean to rile ya. I’ll leave ya alone.”

 

Big Bob continues on trying to ignore the preacher. The preacher gathers a sack of beans and goes to the counter to pay. He asks the owner about Big Bob.

 

“What’s in his craw?”

 

“Oh Big Bob is okay. His dad was a preacher and that’s one of the reasons he’s out here. Couldn’t stand all that religion.”

 

“I see. Well I gotta give him somethin’ so you be prepared to help me if he flies off the handle.”

 

“Now don’t do somethin’ stupid.”

 

“Don’t worry. The Lord’s in this.”

 

The preacher cautiously walks up to Big Bob with a small leather-bound book in his hand.

 

“Don’t want to be a pest, but yur goin’ need this.”

 

“You again. What do I need a book fur?”

 

“Look I just get this feelin’ that the Lord wants me to give you this book.”

 

“Throw it in my bag if you want if it’ll get ya off my back.”

 

“I suggest you keep it on your person.”

 

“Ya tellin’ me what to do?”

 

“No, just makin’ a suggestion. “

 

“Sure, sure, if it’ll get ridda ya.”

 

The preacher hands Big Bob the book and he sticks it inside his coat. The preacher walks away, praying under his breath to his Lord and Master. “God please deliver Big Bob from danger.”

 

Big Bob gathers his stock of food and exits the trading post. He heads for the woods and his diggins. After a few hours he comes to an open meadow. As begins to cross the meadow he hears a noise in the tree line. He knows what it is and reaches for his Hawken rifle. Grizzly bears frequented the area and were hard to kill. Adult Grizzlies were as big as an ox weighing in at between 800 and 1200 pounds. The only sure kill for a Grizzly is a brain shot. Big Bob had seen Grizzlies attack men with 8 bullet holes in them through their lungs and heart. They were just down right hard to kill. Big Bob would rather fight three Indians than one bear.

 

He primes his rifle and studies the trees. No sooner has he readied himself then he sees a huge Grizzly roaring out of the woods in his direction. Big Bob knows he is on his own hook. He steadies himself, takes aim and fires. He hits the Grizzly in the chest. The bear is several hundred feet away and he manages to knap his flint and re-prime his rifle. He gets off one more shot for another chest shot. Nothing is stopping this locomotive of brown fur.

 

Big Bob drops his food sack hoping it might distract the Grizzly and heads for the cliffs nearby. He knows that a Grizzly can easily outrun him so he shoulders his rifle and runs for his life. In his mind he prepares to do battle with the devil bear. He will try and make as much distance as he can and then make his stand.

 

He can almost smell the foul stench of the Grizzly’s breath right before he makes his move. He pulls his rifle off his shoulder and swings as he turns. The butt of the rifle strikes the Grizzly on his huge black nose and breaks into a thousand pieces. The Grizzly stops in his tracks surprised by the attack. Catching the stunned Grizzly off guard, Big Bob swings his hunting knife with all his strength. The knife sinks deep into the bear’s shoulder and is pulled out of Bob’s hand as the huge bear recoils.

 

Bob sees his chance and continues to head for the cliffs along the river. The bear regains its sense of purpose and follows on his heals. Bob reaches the edge of the cliff and manages to crawl underneath a dead tree to reach the safety of a small ledge. Thundering on the other side are the roars of the angry Grizzly.

 

Big Bob is trapped. The ledge is a dead end with a sheer drop off into the river basin fifty feet below. The cliff rises several hundred feet above him and in front of him is the massive dead tree with an angry Grizzly bear on the other side. Big Bob thinks to himself, “Looks like I’m going to be the Grizzly’s Thanksgiving dinner.”

 

The strong Grizzly begins tearing into the dead tree. Big Bob knew it was the end. With nothing to defend himself he reaches in his coat and pulls out the leather book the preacher had given him. He opens it and smiles an ironic smile. It was a Bible. He thumbed its pages to a verse his father had shared with him before he had left home. Psalms 23:4 “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”

 

Big Bob looked up into the blue sky and begins to pray.

 

“Lord. I’ve been runnin’ from ya. I’m brave as a buffler bull in spring, but I’m hyars damp powder an no ways ter dry hit. I haven’t spoken with ya for a long time, but I’m askin’ if you can have mercy on me. I wanta make peace with ya. I know ya spoke through that sky pilot in the trading post. Whatever ya can do, do it now.”

 

Suddenly the Grizzly dislodges the dead tree causing it to cascade off the cliff and onto the banks of the river far below. Seeing its opportunity it lunges at its prey. Big Bob’s thoughts go to his father and mother and the faith they lived. He whispers, “Lord God.”

 

Big Bob sees a flash of white beside the bear. The huge Grizzly loses its balance and falls all the way to the bottom of the ravine and is impaled by a long tree limb. It sputters a roar and dies.

 

Big Bob stares at the smiling angel as it fades from sight. He glances down at his new friend and companion, the Word of his Lord. He whispers, “Thank you Lord.” Then he stands up and shouts. “THANK YOU LORD!” The words echo through the valley over and over again till they reach the ears of the sky pilot, the itinerant preacher. A small smile appears on the preacher’s face. “Happy Thanksgiving Big Bob.”