And LongLeggedy Beasties

Ann returned from the fourth or eighth sanity walk of the day, of course in the company of the dog and her playmate.

“You’ve got to come see what the dogs were chewing on back across from the fire pit. I don’t know what kind of animal it could be but there’s part of the backbone and it’s human-sized at least.”

I harrumphed, familiar with the way new sightings can take on larger-than-life dimensions here in the outback of Floyd County. I said I’d take a look at it eventually.

“No! If we don’t go soon other animals could drag it off.”

She was right. And her description did make me suspicious that I’d find what I did indeed find, skull still connected to a half-dozen uneaten vertebrae: the skull of an adult black bear. Impressive canines, Past Beast.

It remains high in the crotch of a tree along Nameless Creek where the dogs can’t reach it. I will fetch it home and secure it in a high dry place where the sun and various carrion beetles can continue their defleshing, and in about six months it will find a place on or near my desk–a symbol of life in this valley–and death. And so it goes.

Alas, poor Yorik.