Beaver Tales by Bachmann

Bachmann Beaver @ It's Just Some Pancakes.com 2014

But first, a note from Georgie …

You are all familiar with my most notorious Companion, Bachmann Beaver.  Well, he’s been hounding me so much lately about telling his tales that I’ve finally relented and given him his own column on the blog.  I didn’t proofread or edit his work so I can’t guarantee it’s grammatical correctness.  Nor can I endorse the validity of any of his claims.  He is Bachmann, of course, so I would expect there to be a fair amount of … let’s call it embellishment of the facts.  Anyway, enjoy.

When I was just a young kit, growing up on the Little Nokasippi River in the wilds of Minnesota, I became friends with the mysterious, yet very real creature known as Bigfoot. Yes, Boggy Bill(as he liked to be called by his close friends and relations) and I had many adventures on the river in our youth. I remember once, when I was home recovering from a tail sprain … Bill and I went fishing and ended up in a heck of a pickle. You see, I was supposed to be in bed, resting my tail and at my dam window I heard this tapping sound. I looked over and there was Bill, looking for all the world like he was heading to Sunday church. It was the darndest sight! Now, you have to know Bill to really appreciate how ridiculous he looked – all dressed up in his finest Montgomery Ward polyester blend suit, his head hair slicked down with opossum grease … what a hoot! I got out of bed and opened the window and asked Bill what the heck he was doing and why was he so gussied up? Old Bill just laughed and said he’d been over to the local campground where some family had been having a reunion. He dressed up and just blended right in, he said. He said he enjoyed some mighty fine snacks and even got an invite to the next year’s reunion over in Niagra Falls! Oh, that Bill! Anyhoo … Bill had a hankering for some fresh trout so he asked if I wanted to go on down to our special spot and do some angling. Of course I said yes – I just love me some broiled trout cooked in some garlic, lemon butter with a little Parmesan cheese sprinkled over the top (so tasty). I got my fishing pole and tackle box and snuck right out the mud room door without my Mama ever being any the wiser. We caught 25 of the most delectable looking fish that afternoon. Boy was my mouth watering by the time we decided to call it a day and head home! On the way back, Bill said he wanted to make a quick pass through the campground, just in case those reunion people had left anything behind. (He had tasted some little meatball things in a crock pot that he was crazy over – said they were smothered in grape jelly and chili sauce.) So we took a shortcut to the campground and wouldn’t you just know it, a daggone park ranger happened upon us carrying two big old baskets of fresh caught trout. Well, with Bill in his suit and me in my favorite fishing hat, I guess that ranger figured he’d come across a fisherman and his son trying to illegally obtain some supper. He tried to handcuff old Bill and Bill just went crazy. He ended up throwing that ranger fellow clear up into a big pine tree and tossing his car keys into the river. Heh heh heh … I don’t have to tell you how silly that dude looked flailing around in a tree crying about his dang keys! Wheeee … what a day that was, I tell ya.

Leave a Reply