Bears at the Maul
By Andrew Smith

Like hunting almost any other dangerous quarry, bagging a good Christmas gift takes courage, skill and determination. In this age of catalog shoppers and McDonald's gift certificates, it's a rare sportsman that still enjoys the challenge of actually shopping for Christmas gifts. But for those that do, the rewards are many.

"I thought hunting grizzly bears with a bow and arrow was exciting" said Fred, a hunter who had already successfully completed his first Christmas shopping season. "But it was nothing compared to this. I mean Grizzlies will charge you, but they don't mean anything by it other than that they intend to rip you to shreds. Hell, Christmas shoppers smile at you when they intend to rip you to shreds. And if you get between an old sow, 'er shopper, and the gift she's trying to get at, look out!"

Fred's experience is typical of many first time Christmas gift hunters. He underestimated the strength and stamina required to bag his quarry, and at first went home empty handed.

"I wanted to get something for the wife" he said. "We been married twelve years, and I just figured, 'Why not?' I wanted to get her one of them salad deals, where you put stuff in one end and salad comes out the other. I actually found one, and it was the last one they had. I thought I oughta test it out before I bought it, so I took it over to the lingerie department and run some socks through it. It did fine, but then my dang sleeve got caught in it somehow, and next thing I knew the thing was chewin' at my elbow."

This is where Fred's years of hunting and outdoor experience helped him deal with the emergency calmly, rather than by breaking into a panic.

"I screamed at the top of my lungs" he explained, "and tried to get my shirt off. But what happened is, I fell into the perfume rack and knocked it on top of myself. The whole place smelled like a French fruit factory. I finally did get my shirt off, but by that time that dang salad contraption had ate up my whole sleeve and started on my beard."

The experience was too much for Fred.

"I took off runnin'" he recounted, "and I was hollerin' too. I didn't know where I was going. The thing was about to eat my head when I crashed into a woman with a beehive hairdo over in the missus section. The thing must like hair 'cause it left go of me and went for her instead. I thought my troubles were over, but when I stood up I had got one of those nighties on me somehow. You know, those chiffon deals? It was real cute, but it wasn't my size or color. Anyway, next thing I know this policeman comes up and says I have to leave the store."

Fred didn't let his early setback ruin his hunt though, and eventually he brought his saga to a successful conclusion.

"Couple days later I went back," he reminisced "but this time I was ready. I shaved all the hair off my body so the things couldn't get me again, and I wore a full camo outfit from head to toe with face paint and body armor, so the policeman wouldn't recognize me and make me leave again."

Surprisingly, it didn't work.

"I don't know how he recognized me, seeing as how the first time he seen me I was wearing five different perfumes and a pink chiffon nightie, and this time I was bald, camouflaged and had ammo belts across my chest; but he must have. I didn't even get close to the appliance section before I was asked to leave."

Recognizing the elusive nature of his quarry, Fred decided to change tactics. And this time it worked.
"I walked into this one store to get some anti-freeze, and I seen it. It was a down parka. 'Just the ticket' I thought. And this time everything was right. I was upwind of it, and it hadn't seen me yet. I stalked across the boot and mitten section, and when I peeked around the corner; there she was. Pow! I got her right there."

Fred took his trophy home that day, but still feels he has a little to learn about the hunt.

"The mistake I made," he said "was when I got it home I laid it out on the kitchen table and skinned it. Well, you can do that with deer, or furbearers, but not with a down parka. I don't know if the things eat chickens or what, but the guts was all full of feathers and they got all over the house. I nailed the skin out on the shed to dry, but when I went back and checked it, why there wasn't much to it at all."

So he gave his wife the anti-freeze.

"Anti-freeze. Yeah. Well, that way the engine don't freeze up, you know?"

He had this advice for other hunters who intended to take up the challenge of Christmas shopping.

"Well, the key to any successful hunt is comfortable footwear. If your feet hurt maybe you dropped a cinder block on them and you should be more careful."

Merry Christmas.