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During these past few chapters we’ve seen how the sporting world of hunters has been thrown into a humongous amount of upheavel. Such is understandable. We have, after all, been discussing the tremendous peril involved for those courageous men who, possessing “the right stuff”, are bold enough to dare face the polar bear. Our fast-paced world offers many adventurous careers which can place a fella’ in great jeopardy. Astronauts sitting atop 10,000 tons of volatile rocket fuel. Jet pilots zipping along faster than a speeding bullet. Submarine crews plying the murky depths of our seven seas. Flagmen on highway construction jobs!! Hazardous duty pal, very dangerous work. All these fine people deserve bonus compensations for their efforts toward bettering the world. However, let’s look at perspective here , get everything squared away and in it’s proper place. Polar bear hunting ranks as the world’s most dangerous occupation. The expected life-span of idiots who indulge in this sheer madness is but a few short years. None have died of natural causes or old age. Regretfully, this kind of info has created a scenario I don’t wish to be associated with. Seems more than a few local hunters had Arctic expeditions in advanced planning stages when this story began, but have since cancelled those excursions and opted for more timid outings. The Chinese have a saying for such decisions , “saving face.” I have one that ain’t nearly so complimentary, “chickened out.” I know these RAMBO HE-MEN, and believe you me they have egos the size of mountains. However, these gents have changed considerably over the last few weeks, seem more subdued, no longer display the blustery demeanor of “The Great White Hunter.” Gone is the bravado and self-confidence, replaced by hesitation and doubt concerning their hunting skills. After all, we’re talkin’polar bears. Not bunnies and bushy tails! However, it’s not my intent , nor desire, to deprive anyone of life’s joys and pleasures. I feel guilt-ridden about those cancelled hunting forays and realize atonement is called for, even demanded. I very much wish to set the record straight and do what’s right in this matter. So then, let’s clear the air of disinformation and hearsay. Let’s erase from the slate any and all rumors that might have been sown and sprouted, albeit unintentionally. Let’s get rid of gossip which has, maybe, been erroneously implanted here. Good-bye to second-hand reports from the grist mill. These macho-men should realize they can track down the polar bear with a 100 percent guarantee of their personal safety. No harm will befall them. There is a method, one I’ve perfected and used hundreds of times over the years…
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This concluding chapter holds a lesson for die-hard hunters headin’ north in quest of the polar bear. Read carefully, allow the advice to sink in really deep, follow instructions to the letter, and find yourself rewarded with a handsome dividend…your life!! It is of paramount importance to “travel light” while tracking the albino bruin. Thus we’ll begin our homework by calling attention to, and correcting, one pre-conceived notion that all outdoorsmen are guilty of… ye dummies insist on totin’ along too much firepower on safaris into the wild. Leave them gol-durned cannon and elephant guns at home! Don’t get yerself weighted down with such bulky gear. Mobility is needed when trudging across the Arctic. Freedom of movement is crucial, an absolute must. So let’s break some bad habits…leave the big guns, tents, and cooking gear where it rightfully belongs; in yer smokehouse or other outbuildings ( however meager the offerings, we’re gonna’ live off the land. Such as that might be at the North Pole ). Actually, a fella’ needs only a sparse amount of equipment on his northern trek. Forget high-powered rifles. Don’t even think about bow and arrows. Knives are a useless nuisance, clubs a burdensome bother. Such weapons are non-essential and totally obsolete when stalking the white carnivore. We’ll carry only two items…a trusty keyhole saw, and a 17 ounce can of that most delectable of all green vegetables, peas. That’s it, nothing moreis needed. We’re now outfitted for polar bear huntin.’ A sidenote concerning that can of peas. We need to remind ourselves periodically of one important factor…the polar bear is never, never the HUNTED. The polar bear is always the HUNTER. One goof can have dire consequences, error will oft-times prove fatal. I mean, we’re talkin’ life, limb, and the pursuit of happiness. So don’t cut corners by purchasing cheap peas. Get the very best…insist on the Del Monte brand! Now then, let’s run through a step-by-step procedure of our strategy. On arrival at the North Pole we’ll get immediately to the task at hand. We implement our plan by walking out onto the packed lake ice and selecting a likely spot. The next step is to saw a hole in the ice exactly 4 feet in circumference ( exactness is critical at this stage, so ya’ might want to measure ). Next, open yer can of peas and scatter them around the hole. Don’t practice thrift here, sprinkle ‘em liberally. Okay macho-men, All is in readiness. Retreat to the nearest place of concealment, crouch low and wait patiently. The irresistible aroma of peas drifts across the bleak tundra to reach the sensitive nose of ye olde polar bear. Be vigilant, for he is coming and fast! Remain calm as he races past your vantage point, sniffing nose leading him straight to the food source. Our plan is about to pay off, a bountiful harvest soon to be reaped. Old Bruin is predictable. He shuffles in close to the lure we’ve prepared. Glancing around to make certain no one is lookin’ his way, HE QUICKLY TAKES A PEA! At that precise moment you sneak up from behind and KICK HIM IN THE ICE HOLE! The End M. L. Wilkinson September, 1984
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