Funny Story:
I grew up in New Zealand with the stories told of the wildness of Canada by my Canadian father. Moose, Bears, Polar Bears, Avalanches, and so on. When our family returned to Canada in the 80’s, we settled on the out-skirts of my fathers childhood home, Thunder Bay. Having arrived back in winter (not the most pleasant transition) I was eager to explore my new home and the first sunny spring day set out to catch a big Northern Pike. Had my eye on a quarry just down the road and set off all alone with my tackle box and rod. The first cast was trilling, total silence of everything man, completely loud with everything nature. Thrilling, but scary.
2nd cast, waiting for that inevitable hit. Nothing. 5th, 10th, 20th cast.
BOOM! The earth seems to shake and I was running before I knew what happened. Out to the road, full dead run, took a look over my shoulder to see if I was being chased – nothing, just a bobber, 20ft back, bouncing alone the road, steadily following.
I ran all the way home. Exhausted, I reach the house and crashed through the front door, startling my father who was sitting at the kitchen table.
Between breaths, I stammered out my brush with death and my miraculous escape.
He listened completely, right to the end. Then after a pause, busted out in the biggest laugh I have ever seen him have. Tears came to his eyes he laughed so hard. It took him almost as long as it took me to run home to explain my first meeting with the Canadian Beaver.
Everytime I see one I think of that day, and now even laugh about it.