Watch Out For The Big Ones…


watHELLO GENTLE READERS,

In 1967, my family took a long-awaited fishing trip to Northern Ontario, Canada. We arrived in an unspoiled, idyllic (except for the mosquitoes) wilderness and started fishing the pristine, glacier-formed lake. After a few days of hauling in Northern Pike, we got a hankering for some trout fishing.

One of the employees at the camp where we were staying, a Native American of undetermined age or tribe, advised us that a trout stream was two pipes walk (the amount of time it took to smoke two bowls of tobacco) just west of the lake. Grandpa Lambert and I walked a pouch of Prince Albert and never found the stream.

By the time we arrived back to camp, every square inch of our exposed skin was crusted with blood. Mosquitoes! Super-sized Menu mosquitoes in Sam’s Club quantities.

After washing up, I walked down to the lake. Believe it or not, I saw two of these mosquitoes dragging an elk into the bushes. I overheard one say to the other, “Let’s get it hidden before the big ones take it away from us!”

Tom and LaVerna Vickers