Issue 87, Spring 1983
Now I will tell Meader’s story; I have a moral in view.
He was pestered by a Grizzly so bold and malicious
That he used to snatch caribou meat from the eaves of the cabin.
Not only that. He ignored men and was unafraid of fire.
One night he started battering the door
And broke the window with his paw, so they curled up
With their shotguns beside them, and waited for the dawn.
He came back in the evening, and Meader shot him at dose range,
Under the left shoulder blade. Then it was jump and tun,
A real storm of a tun: a Grizzly, Meader says.
Even when he’s been hit in the heart, will keep running
Until he falls down. Later, Meader found him
By following the trail—and then he understood
What lay behind the bear’s odd behavior:
Half of the beast’s jaw was eaten away by an abscess, and caries.
Toothache, for years. An ache without comprehensible reason.
Which often drives us to senseless action
And gives us blind courage. We have nothing to lose.
We come out of the forest, and not always with the hope
That we will be cured by some dentist from heaven.