It was Father’s Day and the Manasadi River Hex hatch was on. More accurately, the Chukar Harbor Ancient Order of Sportsmen (CHAOS) hatch was on. This when CHAOS fathers find it strangely attractive to bring their children along to an otherwise fine time of courtship between fish and anglers. As the adults set up camp, the children are off to explore and impose upon other campers.
CHAOS children occupy themselves by gathering green leaves and wet twigs for the campfire, and exploring the riverbank. Small children learn about water depth and velocity by tossing anything within reach into the river. Sticks, pebbles, boulders, bugs, turtles, and snakes have all been instruments of such learning. On this particular trip, Prentice N. Largefonte closely observed their activities and waxed philosophic, as he was wont to do around an evening campfire.
"Imagine what it must have been like for the prehistoric men who camped here some 20,000 years before us." Prentice said to the group that had gathered around the campfire.
"They were lucky to survive the mosquitoes without bug dope." Ivan O’Dodge muttered as he sprayed his hands and rubbed the oily substance on his unshaven face.
"I don’t mean the things they had or lacked." Prentice replied. He pointed to several children trying to roast marshmallows in a fire the size of a Viking funeral pyre. "Just think; our ancestors were once the children gathered around those night-fires. They listened to their fathers tell stories of great hunts and big fish, just as we listened to our fathers, and our children listen now."
"They probably listened to your ancestors thump their chests, and boast about their spearing skills." Flint Locke harrumphed.
"Nothing’s changed in 20,000 years!" Icair laughed and waved his arm to indicate those present. "A bunch of grungy Neanderthals, with scruffy kids, exaggerating around an evening fire".
"It’s not so much the stories, C.F". Largefonte was still staring into the scotch in his tin cup. "We teach our kids the same skills learned by our ancestors when they were kids. Things like building a shelter and cooking over a fire. The culture of family camping hasn’t changed much since then."
"OK, I guess some things are the same." Abel Andretti chimed in. "We still teach our kids how to make a shelter, even if it comes in the form of a tent these days."
"And how to forage for food …from an ice chest". O’Dodge added as he put some more marshmallows on his son’s six-foot roasting stick, now burned halfway through. "Then we teach them to protect their food by placing the ice chests under a picnic table bench before going to sleep."
"That just entertains the raccoons by providing them with a short puzzle to solve before they raid the contents." Icair added. "However, I do recall Abel teaching his kids how to find the North Star.
"That would explain why his family came from out West!" O’Dodge grinned.
The banter continued into well into the night and contained no TV, cell phones, video games, or Facebook. It was comforting to know that CHAOS offspring will be proficient in their ancestral skills. Things like building a campfire the size of a Viking funeral pyre, tarping a campsite without setting the tarp on fire, uphill hiking in waders, recognizing Poison Ivy by touch, properly hiding a picnic table, and cooking with sand are important and valuable skills.
Royal Dun
No comments:
Post a Comment