Election Year Summer

Its summer in Michigan. One can tell by the hatch of orange cones, orange barrels, detours, and heavy equipment working on the roads. On the positive side, the end result of all that activity is smoother roads, so I guess the benefit outweighs the inconvenience. 

Its also an election year, so all the roadside construction signs are intermingled with political advertising signs. When politics aligns itself with road construction, it's the one time we can actually see the tax dollars, that we sent to those people whose names are on the signs, being put to good use. 

Now, normally, I try to avoid political discussions, but I wanted you to know that I am going to support the candidate most closely tied to those road improvements. You see his orange signs all over near road construction sites. His name is Lou Stone ...

It's My Birthday ... Darn It!

OK, I'll admit it. I'm getting older. Today happens to be my birthday and although I usually don't pay a lot of attention to my birthdays, this one comes with a twist. I hit 67 years today. Now there's nothing special about 67 except that for the past 365 days, that's the age I thought I was!

Yep! Every time I filled in a questionnaire, I listed my age as 67. The doctor's office, the bank, the IRS, the state ... everyone thinks I was 67. Including me, apparently. Just another sign of Old Timer's disease.

So now I have an interesting dilemma. Since I never "lived" my 66th year, should I recapture that time for myself and tell everyone for the next 365 days that I'm 66? I would hate to mislead people into thinking that I look older than I claim to be. 

On a positive note, I have an opportunity to relive my 67th year! How many people get a chance to repeat their age? I could claim that I was 67 years old for 730 days! Maybe I could fix some of the screw-ups I pulled when I was 67 ... ?

In a way, I feel like I'm turning my clock back in the fall of my life to gain some extra senior citizen discounts. It's a small victory over aging. Another small victory over aging is that I won't recall that anything bad happened to me when I was 66.

The only thing that really bugs me is that I missed being 66. It was my only chance to be 66, two thirds of the Devil's mark. I missed the chance to use inflict some really bad puns like "I'm sexy six" or "sixty sex". 

It's late and I'm getting a headache, so I'm going to bed. I hope I don't wake up to be 68 tomorrow. 

Royal Dun

Wanted - Outdoor Business Opportunity

It's been a few years since I retired and I'm beginning to look for opportunities to keep myself busy when the fishing is off. If I can earn a few extra bucks doing it, even better. One of the things I always thought might be fun to do is to own and operate a campground. After all, I enjoy the outdoors and what could be better than taking money from city slickers who want to park their RVs on your property.

So it was that I began my search for suitable land or, better yet, a private campground that is up for sale. It didn't take long to see signs along the road advertising a campground that was up for sale. Interestingly, the signs were all hand written and contained scant contact information for the campground.

When I stopped to check some of the signs and talk to the property owners, they all wanted a few dollars for their trouble. Then it occurred to me that my readers could help. Does anyone know where Camp Firewood is?

Royal Dun

Dad's Advice

I recently had the double pleasure of attending my nephew's wedding. I say double pleasure because a) it was a happy family gathering that united two young people about to begin their journey through life together and b) because it wasn't mine. I wouldn't have the energy.

In the Narthex of the church, my sister-in-law created a display of wedding photos of both sets of grandparents and parents. Boy, we were all young then! And thinner with darker hair ... with hair. Seeing my little brother's wedding photo reminded me of a piece of advice our Dad shared with us at the time. Chris was the last of us three boys to get married and it was at his reception, that Dad called us together. He wanted to speak with his three sons. As we stood before him, watching his face, Dad placed a hand on the shoulders of my brothers and looked each of us in the eye. Then he spoke with fatherly authority.

"Your mother and I want you boys to know that we love you and we love the women you've chosen to marry. Don't come home!" Then he patted us on the shoulder, turned, and headed for the punch bowl. I didn't know what to think at the time, but I never forgot his words.

Over time, I realized what he meant. He knew there would be times in our marriages when we would be unhappy. He knew that marriages are tempered by hard times like steel is tempered by fire. When times would get rough for us, quitting and running 'home' to mommy and daddy was not an option. We were making our own homes and we were expected to make it work.

We did. No one in our family has been divorced or even separated for four generations. My older brother is celebrating his 50th anniversary this year. My hot chick wife and I are working toward 45, and little brother and his wife are celebrating their 40th this year. Good advice, Pop. Thanks.

Royal Dun

Fly Fishing Equipment is Becoming Too Complicated

OK, I admit to being somewhat old school but I think I'm right on when I tell you that selecting fly fishing equipment now requires a degree in mechanical engineering. Allow me to use an example from a recent fly fishing catalog. This is the description for a fly reel.

"A fusion between the free-form structures of a cast spool and the mechanical integrity of a CNC-machined case, [our reel] is a hybrid.

The case, CNC-machined here in the U.S. from 6061 bar-stock aluminum, delivers maximum structural rigidity and durability all wrapped in a harder, brighter finish.  The spool, pressure cast with radiused compound curves, near zero-radius inside corners and a precise fit and finish, delivers both value and sex appeal."

What? Huh? Come again? I could kind of understand what they meant when they described "A fusion between the free-form structures of a cast spool and the mechanical Integrity ...." but then they lost me. Actually, I was not aware that a cast metal fly reel spool was considered a free-form structure. I thought they pretty much needed to be round(ish). Mechanical integrity I understand. That means it works right and probably won't fall apart in midstream when you're fighting a large fish (not that I know how that feels).

I have no clue what a "CNC machined case" is, so I Googled it. Turns out that CNC means Computerized Numerical Controlled. A computer program operates the cutting machine that makes the reel body. That used to be done by a human operating a lathe (manual), or by inserting a disk or tape into the machine (numerical control).

Next, I had to find out if 6061 bar-stock aluminum was the best material for a fly reel. I found out that 6061 aluminum is commonly used to make aircraft wings. Not the strong, durable wings on military or commercial aircraft, just the less strong, less durable wings on personal aircraft. On the other hand, 6061 does not corrode, even if the finished is nicked, so I guess that's best for a fly reel like mine that spends a significant amount of time under water.

Do you know what a radiused compound curve and a zero-radius inside corner are? Turns out its a fancy way of telling you that there are different sizes of curved parts in their fly reel. Since every curve is part of a circle, every curve has a radius, so using radius to imply action makes a lot of sense if you can get another $100 for it. As for the zero-radius inside corner, that means there is no curve where the parts of the reel body make a 90-degree angle. Good thing or the spool would not fit on the reel body.

Finally, the ad says all these features add value and  ... sex appeal. Trust me. After standing in a cold stream at midnight waiting for the Hex hatch for the sixth night in a row, wearing a pair of waders over the same clothes worn five days in a row, a fellow needs a little sex appeal. In fact, the reel would be the ONLY thing in camp with any sex appeal. Even so, in the last 55 years of fishing, I've never been accosted by any females, much less females trying to snuggle up with my reel. 

So here I am enrolling in a college program for mechanical engineering so that, when I graduate in four years, I can make an intelligent, educated choice for the device I use to hold my excess fly line.

Royal Dun

The Reason Why the Universe is Expanding

About a week ago, I was looking for a way to relax after dealing with a string of disrespect, power egos, theft, and news about people killing other people for no reason or even worse, for God. It was raining, so a relaxing evening on the stream was out. I read for a while, then decided to vegetate in front of the television. I'm a bit of a nerd for science programs, so I tuned into a Public Broadcasting Station that was airing a series about the universe. 

I learned that stars have a life cycle. In about 5 billion years, our own sun will expand into red giant and engulf Mercury, Venus, and Earth. In short, all humans left on earth will die. The only hope for human survival will be to relocate to other planet(s) surrounding other stars, maybe in other galaxies. We will be the universe's immigrants. I will not be around then, but it saddens me to know that here will be no more trout fishing on my favorite streams. Maybe I should fish in the rain more often.

I also learned that most physicists are convinced the universe began with a rapid expansion of a 'singularity', whatever that is. The theory is popularly known as The Big Bang Theory.  At first, scientists once thought that the gravity would eventually slow the galaxies as they flew through space, then eventually the gravitational pull would cause everything to collapse back into the 'singularity'. But recent observations have proven that to be wrong.

In fact, the other galaxies are flying away from our own galaxy at ever increasing speeds! This observation has, in turn, led to the theory of dark matter and dark energy. I'm not really going to discuss the theories of dark matter and dark energy except to say that many of my night fishing experiences have involved dark matter (like unseen logs) and dark energy (like falling as a result of dark matter). Instead, I want to share my thoughts about why the universe is behaving this way.

I recently had a eureka moment while visiting a local big box store. I watched people cutting in front of each other to get a parking space 10 feet closer to the door. I saw people leaving shopping carts in any place other than the rack provided for them. There were people cursing at each other and their kids. Their kids ran amok throughout the store, handling produce with their grubby, snot-coated hands without any discipline from a parent. When I left the store, I saw two dogs left in a locked car with the windows rolled up. Suddenly, it all made sense to me. The other galaxies are running like hell to get away from us before we start the emigration!

Royal Dun

Fly Fishing Companions

Fly fishing is a solitary sport. Even though hordes of fly fishing enthusiasts travel for hours of miles to gather on the banks of their favorite stream on opening day, fly fishing itself is a solitary exercise. Robert Traver captured this concept in his book Trout Madness (Simon & Schuster, 1989).

"... I need not consider the convenience or foibles or state of hangover of my companions, nor, more selfishly, feel any guilty compulsion to smile falsely and yield them a favorite piece of water."

Royal Dun

Nemo the Turkey

On the usual route from the city to our home in the 'burbs' we pass by several homes that either back up to a wooded tract or are spaced about 100 feet apart. One of  these homes has several domesticated chickens that hang around the yard doing whatever chickens do. About a week before Thanksgiving Day, my wife and I were driving by and spotted a turkey, a jake, scratching and pecking along with the chickens. 

It was an amusing sight to see this lone jake, four times the size of the chickens, feeding with them. He showed no particular concern about the passing cars as he and his smaller dining buddies worked the lawn only 10 feet from the road. No nearby flock was ever seen by us. This time of the year, turkeys flock together, move around, and establish wintering grounds. That's the reason it was so unusual to see a lone turkey.

Every day we would see the jake picking through the grass with chickens. My wife observed that such behavior could only be the result of superior intelligence. She figured the turkey was hiding from hunters. With Thanksgiving only a week away, passing himself off as a chicken was a stroke of genus genius, so to speak. She named him Nemo, after the Disney Pixar character who hid from dangers among his friends.

After Thanksgiving, both the chickens and Nemo disappeared. We don't think they were victims of the homeowner. Snow came early this year, so the chickens most likely treated to their hutch. As for Nemo, we wish him well, wherever he is. Each time we pass, we look toward the house with hopeful anticipation.

Royal Dun

Michigan Tries to Collect Sales Taxes on Out-of-State Sales

My state, Michigan is pushing hard to collect sales taxes for all internet sales by Michigan residents. Well, senators and representatives, now we know for whom you really work.

First, the argument about a fair, equal playing field for storefront businesses is a specious and biased. When items are purchased on-line there are significant shipping charges attached (creates shipping jobs). That makes internet prices relatively equal to storefront prices, even though storefront businesses pay very little for shipping on a per item basis. 

Secondly, if I buy something out of state, the transaction occurs where the money is exchanged for the product (according to the Generally Accepted Accounting Principles (GAAP). Since the money is received and product shipped out of state, no state taxes are due except perhaps the state housing the distribution center (an incentive for states to attract distribution centers).

Third, if I purchase anything out of state what right does my state have to levy a tax on it? Yes, I am familiar withe the "use tax" concept and it should go the way of laws protecting slavery.

Finally, I buy locally first when I can, but guess what? Retailers stock their shelves with the merchandise that brings the greatest profit, not the greatest customer satisfaction. I like to see, touch, and smell my merchandise when possible but when the choices are so limited, I might buy on-line. 

Instead of helping consumers find ways to stretch their dollars, and have better choices, I view congressional support for the Marketplace Fairness Act (S.743) as working against my interests as a citizen and for the interests of the business lobby. In the end, I can do very little. After all, those with the guns (power to arrest) are able to rob from the citizens with impunity.

Royal Dun

Another Weird Thought

Most people wouldn't, but it's possible to make an Internet inquiry about how many birds there are living on the planet. The answer is an estimated 100-400 billion. In addition, according to Melanie Driscoll, a biologist and Director of Bird Conservation for the Gulf of Mexico and Mississippi Flyway for the National Audubon Society, about 5 billion of them die every year in the United States.

In spite of what my outdoor compatriots may tell you, I consider myself normal. I notice large flocks of blackbirds flying around in the autumn sky, so I assume other people do as well. In addition, there are birds flying all around us in the trees and bushes. They visit our feeders by the dozens. So, the other day, I was watching a large flight of geese fly over me in several V formations and I wondered ... why don't we ever see a bird fall out of the sky from a heart attack, stroke, or old age?

Oh, I know. You're going to tell me about the 2011 Beebe, Arkansas incident on New Years Eve when some 5000 blackbirds mysteriously fell out of the sky around 11 PM. Turns out the birds were apparently migrating over Beebe at the same time the city fathers set off the town's New Years Eve fireworks. 

Its not that the city fathers bagged all 5000 blackbirds, but apparently, the shock waves from the blasts either knocked the birds unconscious or discombobulated the birds' sense of direction and attitude. In their attempts to come out of an explosive tail spin, they flew into wires, smoke stacks, towers, and tall buildings. I'm telling you this so when the sky lights up over Prentice N. Largefonte's camp on the opening day of grouse season, you'll know why.

Royal Dun

Expectations

Last October, Muddler Mike introduced me to electronic cigarettes. Turns out is was a less expensive alternative than tobacco, especially since I never smoked at home. Well, the last electronic cigarette I purchased lasted over 6 months, so I reached the conclusion that I had quit smoking. This spring, I let Muddler know how upset I was with him.

"I don't drink to excess and I don't womanize. Now that I don't smoke, I'm damn near perfect and people are beginning to have expectations of me!" I said in exasperation. Muddler remained expressionless and took a drag on his e-cigarette. 

"None of us have any expectations of you." He said as he  exhaled a cloud of water vapor in my direction.

Late Night Fishing

The other night I told my wife that my fishing buddy and I would be fishing the hex hatch on the North Branch and we would be late, but I promised to be home by midnight. Well, we fished for hours, then sat in the darkness to rest. We were thirsty, and we were tired from wading, when he broke out his bottle of Bombay gin. We headed for home long after midnight.

Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock in the front room started up and cuckooed 3 times. Quickly realizing my wife would wake up, I cuckooed another 9 times, then sneaked into bed. I was quite proud of myself for coming up with a quick-witted solution, considering the influence of that evil drink.

The next morning, my wife asked me what time I got in, and I told her midnight. She didn't seem disturbed at all. I figured I got away with it. Then she said we needed a new cuckoo clock and I asked her why. 

She said, "Well, last night our clock cuckooed 3 times, then said, "Oh, crap," cuckooed 4 more times, cleared its throat, belched, and then cuckooed 5 more times before tripping over the cat".

Royal Dun

The Loss of Bill

Bill is a cherished friend. He was the president of a local fly anglers club when I lived in Baltimore. He was one of those fellows with the charisma to get people involved, so I joined the club and eventually served on the board of directors with him. Bill also “drafted” me into serving on the board of directors for the Mid-Atlantic chapter of The Federation of Fly Fishers. He was also active in The Brotherhood of the Junglecock, a national youth organization dedicated to perpetuating the sport of fly-fishing. Bill was an entrepreneur and owned his own business. He retired after 20+ years in the National Guard as a warrant officer, one of those senior non-commissioned officers who knew how to get things done. 

By the late 90’s, Bill’s health was beginning to fail due to diabetes. Eventually, he stopped smoking, but it was too late to prevent his health from deteriorating. The first thing to go, that I remember, was a numb foot that prevented him from wading the rocky-bottomed streams of Maryland and Pennsylvania. After I left the East Coast, I returned a couple times to fish with Bill and some other friends in north central Pennsylvania. The last year that I was able to make the annual trip, Bill was too ill to come. His health was so frail that he was afraid to be far away from a medical facility and the nearest one to our cabin was over 45 miles away, nearly an hour and a half by car in mountainous roads. 

I still am in contact with Bill, occasionally by telephone, but most often through emails. Bill still has his same sense of humor judging by some of the YouTube videos and other stuff he sends to me. Bill has also become a fervent devotee of the Tea Party movement and he frequently “pummels” me with tea party propaganda that he finds on the Internet. 

Sometimes, I scan the material, consider it poking fun at the president (which is a great American pastime protected by the 1st Amendment), grin, and simply delete it. Other times, I go to Snopes.com to qualify the claims. Sometimes I reply to his Tea Party pap with the Snopes link and a subject line that says “The Truth”. I try to strike a balance with this because I do not want to lose a friend over fanatical propaganda.

What increasingly disturbs me are the contemptible, offensive lies being spread by these people. Only 30 seconds of research enlightens me about the unmitigated bile being distributed by Tea Party fanatics. It is my opinion that President Obama and our congress’ efforts are not evil, just sometimes naive, misguided, or poorly implemented … and sometimes they are spot-on. 

Our nation has always overcome naive, misguided policies and poorly implemented ideas. Always. However, the adulterated lies being sent to millions of people via the Internet are truly evil. They defile our great nation and the people that make it great when they are different from themselves. These lies destroy our ability to hold meaningful discourse. Thinking for ourselves is the only weapon we have to defend our nation against the ignoramus’ among us. 

So ignore the Tea Party. Ignore the Republicans. Ignore the Democrats. Consider all political ads as outright lies, because they are. Every single political ad is a lie full of half-truths and innuendos. If you hear something that you do not like, there is no doubt you are hearing a lie.  

Even those ads that do not throw mud at the opponent, hide the shortcomings or the weaknesses of the candidate being supported. If a candidate sounds too good to be true, they are lying to you. Stay informed. No one can defeat an educated, informed populace. 

The last time I spoke with Bill, he was on his Tea Party stump, the gist of which was how President Obama was tearing apart the constitution and turning us into a socialist, if not communist, nation. When I questioned some of his statements or asked for examples, he said I was just “an Obama guy”. 

That seems to be a typical ideologue response these days. When their ideas can’t hold up to valid questions or logic, they label and attack the person. Listen for the attack when someone wants to discuss the issues. 

When I hung up, I had tears in my eyes. I have seen my friend lose his physical health and now … now he has lost the ability to think for himself. 

Royal Dun

Semper Fidelis

By December of 1969, Congress was desperate for more cannon fodder to sacrifice on behalf of Nugyen Van Theiu, the President of Viet Nam. So they instituted a draft lottery and I won third place! My lottery number was three. At the time, I was in college studying sororities and my grades were suffering consequently. I was a prime target for the draft. 

In January of 1970, Uncle Sam let me know that my student deferment was revoked and I was reclassified 1-A. I was going to be in the army in the very near future. The only control I had over the circumstances was to deny Uncle Sam his draft and enlist in another branch of service. Because I was enrolled in college, the Air Force would put me in a deferred enlistment program, allowing me to finish my semester of college and report for duty in August 1970.  I signed up.

Near the end of that semester, one of my fraternity brothers, Kent, returned home on leave from the Marines. As it turned out, his sister was getting married the week after he was to supposed to report back for deployment to Viet Nam. During our discussion, he mentioned that the Marines would extend his leave by one week, if he could recruit another person to sign up. I told Kent I would go sign up for him and I did. The recruiter arranged for Kent's extended leave, and I signed up to be a Marine ... on the delayed enlistment program. 

Kent attended his sister's wedding that summer of 1970. By the time the Marines came looking for me, I was already serving in the U.S. Air Force. Like so many people, I lost touch with most of my college friends. My career took me all over the eastern states. Not long ago, I returned to my home town to settle into retirement. I recently ran into a former fraternity brother and we began thinking about a reunion. That's when I found out, 44 years later, that Kent never made it home from Viet Nam. 

Today is Memorial Day, 2014 and I cried thinking about Kent and the other 58,000+ men and women who died in Viet Nam. However, I have never been more proud of outsmarting Uncle Sam in 1970. 

Semper fidelis, Kent. Semper fidelis.

Royal Dun

A 21-Gun Salute to Our Veterans

Today is Memorial Day, 2014. Across the street from my home, there is a community cemetery, and every year, our township hosts a small parade and ceremony to honor those citizens who have fallen while defending our nation. We sometimes forget that our military is mostly comprised of our youngest and strongest citizens. Our nation's young men stand and take their turn to defend our nation as I did when I was their age. 

This year, the band played the anthems of all the branches of military, the local dignitaries gave their speeches, and someone read President Lincoln's Gettysburg Address. Finally, a National Guard squad fired off a 21-gun salute. They did not do it properly. 

Very few people, including veterans know how to execute a proper 21-gun salute. We have become accustomed to seven men or women in uniform firing three volleys of seven shots, but a proper 21-gun salute is comprised of four volleys. 

The first volley is a single shot. One rifle firing the first shot of a new nation born in defense of individual freedom. Two volleys of seven shots come next to represent stability and unity of all. The fourth volley of six shots represents the missing man volley in honor of those who gave their lives for us. All together there are 21 shots: 

1 ... 7 ... 7 ... 6

Enjoy your family today. Your freedom to do that has been purchased by many young men and women who will never have the same opportunity.

Royal Dun

Bad News

It happened. I turned 65 years old and went to the doctor for my first Medicare checkup and received some horrible news. I was 10 pounds over the weight limit for my float tube!

Well, I'm working desperately to address that situation, but its going to be very difficult to save enough money for a bigger float tube by opening day.

Royal Dun

Spring's Arrival

Thursday marks the first day of spring, not to  mention my bride and I will celebrate our 43rd anniversary. We have already acquired some spring bulbs and another outdoor wind ornament.

Some years ago, I was told that St. Patrick's day is the time to cut your roses down to 12 inches or so to invigorate them and produce healthy plants. Well, St. Patrick's day was yesterday. Maybe tomorrow I'll dig them out of three feet of snow so I can trim them.

We've been looking for our Crocus' to be popping up, but they're hard to spot under the snowbanks.

May B. Knott ... sitting in for Royal Dun

Brought to You By NAFTA

When the North American Free Trade Agreement was signed in 1993, I never had much opinion about it one way or another. I agreed with its premise of expanding trade between Canada, Mexico, and the United States as I thought it would bring medication prices down, help move labor across borders where it is needed, etc.

Instead, twenty years later, I find it costs me far less for one of my medications if I order it through a Canadian pharmacy (it ships from India). I pay about half the cost (including shipping) for a 90-day supply than it would cost for the generic in my local pharmacy.

It seems like we hear of more cases of contaminated food than before. Although it is difficult to blame it on NAFTA, much of our produce and vegetables are imported, especially during off-seasons.  When I go to the store now, I have to check the expiration date on every single item I buy. On a recent trip to the grocery, I found about 10% of the items sitting on the shelves was expired. One product was outdated by 7 months!

I realize that sub-standard management oversight and training of help, poor attitudes of people stocking the shelves, and labor shortages all contribute to this. Even so, I wonder if NAFTA really means No Aliment Fit To Accept.

Evolution Has a Ways to Go

Prentice N. Largefonte hit 80 last year and we spent several evenings on the river together. He can still out-wade, out-cast, and out-fish me when he's in the mood, but last year was the first time he asked me to tie a fly onto his tippet for him. The light was failing, and his hands were just unsteady enough that his fishing would have been done for the day, had I not been there to help. On another of our evening forays, he commented to me that it is getting difficult for him to cut his toenails. He said "it hurts'. I managed to dodge the topic by mentioning that my hearing was getting worse and worse.

Nature exacts certain tolls for allowing us to age. Things like hair, hearing, flexibility, and sexual prowess diminish and are replaced with bladders and bowels that are more active. We also gain greater awareness of muscle groups that can ache. The other day, as I was getting ready to dress, I realized that I too found the task of trimming toenails more arduous than before. It may have been due to some new muscle group that was announcing its presence or some other muscle group that refused to stretch to accommodate my task.

Nevertheless, I resorted to sitting on the edge of my bed and crossing my leg so that one foot rested on the other knee, in the normal fashion that men sit.
It was then that I noticed a flaw in human evolution. The sole of my foot was facing me and the toenails all faced away from me. In order to trim my nails, I had to twist my foot to an angle I could reach with the clippers. It hurt! It occurred to me that evolution would better serve us if toenails were eliminated from our feet, since we no longer need them as claws. Our species lost that need several millennia ago, so what's the deal? We lost our tails, why not toenails? I suppose its another toll exacted by Nature, just so we remember who's in charge.

Now I'm thinking about camping and fishing with Prentice next summer and I'm wondering what incapacities he will share with me. I'm prepared to tie some more flies on for him but if we're sitting by the campfire and he hauls out a set of nail clippers, my hearing will suffer even more degradation.

Royal Dun

The Life of Wunipaq

Wunipaq was born in the spring, one of many, many generations of the Anibish tribe. As an infant, he marveled at the colorful birds that visited his tribe and sang songs for them. Sometimes, creatures from the forest would enter his village to the delight of all the Anibish children. At night, he could see shiny specs in the sky above him. Some winked at him and some moved quickly across the heavens. He wondered if they were distant Anibish tribes, close enough to see him and wink at him, but so far away that their voices could not be heard.

In his youth, Wunipaq learned that all the creatures of the forest looked up to his tribe. The Anibish were well respected across the region for providing food and shelter for homeless travelers in the forest. Nothing was ever asked of these travelers, even when his tribe suffered from thirst or hunger themselves.

Wunipaq also learned to speak in his youth. His voice, like those of the others in his tribe, was carried in the wind. At times, their voices merged with those from other tribes and the whole forest was awash with the voices of the Anibish.

In his adolescence, Wunipaq learned how to make food along with the other Anibish children. They made their food from nutrients provided by the forest and it was this food called sugar, so freely shared by his tribe, which was food for so many travelers. He was proud of his place in the universe.

As an adult, Wunipaq wore the scars of time. He was not as supple as in his youth and he was unable to produce as much food as he had when he was young. His body seemed stiffer and he noticed some changes in his color.

In the final stage of his life, Wunipaq’s body turned yellow. Not the yellow of illness, but the brilliant hue of life celebrated. He and his tribe lit up the forest as they aged. Wunipaq was sure those distant tribes he saw in the sky as an infant could now see his tribe as they twinkled into the heavens.

One day, Wunipaq learned the true value of his place in the universe. One-by-one, then many-by-many, his tribesmen gave up their positions so younger generations could grow. They gently swooped to the forest floor. His tribe gathered there to wait for the winter. When the snow came, his tribe was covered and sheltered from the winter sun. The Anibish of Wunipaq’s generation slowly released their remains to the soil until they were no more.

In the spring, the snows melted and the water carried the sugars and nutrients down into the soil where his tribe could gather them together. In a few weeks, a new generation of Anibish would be born.

Royal Dun