Don’t Let The Truth Get in the Way of a Good Story
Tall Tales and a Bit of Fine Liquor
You’ve heard the fish tale. It was how big? Telling the story of the great catch again, your friend's hands spread even further apart as the bass miraculously grows.
Speaking of…I was at a gathering with stories of wildlife encounters circling around the group. Tall tales and a bit of fine liquor were warming us when one person joked, “Don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story.” Hints of exaggerated laughter bounced around the circle.
Someone asked, “What’s your most terrifying picture, Brad?” I grinned, answering, “From an alligator encounter near Lakeland, FL.” I told the ring of friends, “I was hiking the wetlands when a massive alligator stared me down. His mouth was open, ready to chomp as if I was a Subway sandwich. In the picture, his eyes stared into mine, glaring, and his mouth was open as if ready to take my leg. Pretty terrifying.”
Then my wife, Carolyn, said, “Tell them the whole story, the real story.” Sheepishly, I looked around the circle.
“Okay, I was on a trail, water to my right and a strip of land about fifty feet on the other side. A massive alligator was there, and he lazily yawned. My camera came up, focusing the zoom lens. Then the nightmarish alligator turned to find a more comfortable place to sleep. As he did, I caught his image. His yawn was half closed with a gaggle of threatening teeth, intimidating eyes catching mine as he turned. The terrifying image was actually a yawning twelve foot alligator finding a more comfortable place to sleep.”
Nervous laughter erupted from the group. Then, one of them joked, “Bighorn rams scare me. You ever see them head-butt?”
“Oh…Oh,” I remembered. “Once I was just outside the park near the Fall River Entrance. I’m photographing two rams head-butting when suddenly one turned, eyes on me, and he came rushing down the hill ready to send me airborne. A huge ram, he had nearly full curled horns. I captured a couple of shots before I had to run for my SUV, beating the beast to my door. I ended up staring through my windshield as he glared back at me.”
Carolyn cleared her throat, giving me a sideways glance. One of my friends laughed, saying, “Tell the whole story, Brad.”
I sighed deeply. “Well, that’s pretty much the story…except.” My friend smiled, “Go on.”
“Okay. So I’m standing in front of my car, and there’s about thirty people there watching a group of bighorn sheep. One crazy guy has walked up the mountainside, and he’s literally within feet of the rams. One turns on him, testosterone raging. Terrified, this crazy man jumps behind a tree. When he does, I’m right in the ram’s line of sight.”
My eyes grew wide with the story. “The ram keeps coming. I realize I’m the next target even though I’m a good seventy-five feet away. I captured a couple of quick images, then turned, scrambling to my car. The other thirty people were running too. The ram stops about twenty-five feet in front of my SUV looking for a target, but everyone is safely locked in their cars.”
“So it wasn’t your issue,” my friend chuckled. “It was the guy up the hill.” I grinned, saying, “The guy up the hill…well, he was worthy of a touron video.”
“So,” Carolyn said. “Tell them why you carry bear spray.” I nodded, and began the story.
I turned serious. “First, bear spray is an effective deterrent against an aggressive bear or other large wildlife. While it causes temporary irritation to the animal's eyes, nose, and lungs, it does no permanent injury and wears off within an hour. Bear spray’s a safe deterrent against any large, wild animals.” I looked around the group and saw the nods.
“So, It was July 1 a year ago. I’m on a very active trail behind the campground in Kawaneeche Valley, but no one’s around. Then I hear the sound of a charging animal. I turn around and a cow elk is running at me. Knowing I’m in trouble, I rush off the trail and hide behind a five foot wide evergreen.”
“The elk stops on the other side, her eyes locked on mine as she watches through the branches. I’m yelling trying to scare her away, but my 180 pounds is not a threat to her 600 pounds, so I change strategies. I switched back to my work experience as a school superintendent, talking calmly, my voice soft as if trying to soothe a distraught mother.”
“As the elk watched me, I moved left. The cow elk paralleled my movement. I moved right. She moved with me, her eyes threatening. The dance went on, and I yelled for help. No one heard. She was intent on stomping this hiker.”
“I took my camera and strap from my shoulder. Gripping the strap, I prepared to defend myself. I was so frightened, so terrified that I was ready to swing $7,000 in camera equipment to protect myself. I didn’t want to hit her, but it was my only defense. That’s when the elk charged around the tree. I swung the camera barely missing her nose. She jumped back and came at me from the other side. I swung again. She stepped back, moving ten feet away. Seizing the moment, I slowly bushwacked backwards, praying I wouldn’t trip. The cow watched me, but she let me go.”
“At the campground, I learned she had a late calf two days before, and had even been stomping on tents.” I shrugged. “So now I carry bear spray because you never know.”
“Ok,” my friend pointed. “Now tell the actual story.”
I told the exact same story.
