It finally happened. After 25 years in the Canadian Bush I was stuck deep in the bush, stranded, center stuck, high centered, marooned without a shovel or hi boy. For two sleepless nights and almost three days, I grew to respect those that lived by trapping of homesteading. What raised the hair on my back was when the pack of wolves come to visit and howled for some time within 30 yards. I dare not get out of my bag to stoke the fire. There were six and had the Grand Cherokee surrounded. I imagined the movie "American Werewolf in London," and I was on the Moors. I was 15 miles back into the Saskatchewan FORREST. I had fire, water, sleeping gear by accident weapons and my two faithful dogs but I was stuck and was not about to walk the 20 miles back into town.
I counted on being found by Moose hunters. Who drove the trails in their quads looking for the elusive animals. We were coming back after a day of ruffed grouse hunting and with my limit I was anxious to return to the town bar where the Owner Carmen promised to let me watch the World Series. I would miss the greatest game ever played in the World Series where LaRussa and Lance Berkman undid the Sabermetrics and made baseball a game of magic again. Thank God they beat the Texans with two strikes against them.
By the second day, I was getting concerned as the snow fell. There was more panic than real but with the instinctive reactions to wolves singing at night and little progress trying to get the Jeep of center stuck and hoping for a sound my imagination was going wild. If I had SPOT but then again it is a weak system in the deep forest.
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