The sap-encrusted bigfoot, Green Limb, sits with legs sprawled wide apart. He has the habit of sitting and picking at the leaves and limbs sticking to the patches of sticky sap all over his hairy body. He is busy doing that right now.
The time of year is summer. It is hot even though it is very early morning. Green Limb plans to hunt for blackberries when he is done picking burrs from a patch of sap on his right ankle. During the night as he slept, these sharp burrs scratched a deep cut into his left ankle when he positioned the right ankle over it. At last, he worked all of the burrs out of the sticky tree sap. Green Limb dearly loved the smell of tree sap, but he did not like its stickiness. Without giving it thought, he rubbed his sticky fingers into the fine dirt at his knee and then rubbed a fistful of it into the sap where the burrs had been. Now the spot on his ankle was just a little less sticky.
Finally, with grooming finished, Green Limb rose to his big feet and ambled down his favorite trail to Bright Creek. When he took this particular trail he was never sure who he might meet at water’s edge, lapping up the green liquid. Never did he come upon deer, for they were afraid of him. As well they should be, for he’d quickly make a satisfying meal of them.
Brushing aside a fir limb, he spied the broad back of Amos, a happy local bear sitting with rear paws dangling in the cool running stream. Green Limb slowed his decent, thinking he would play a trick on Amos. This bear sitting in the hot morning air was a brown bear. He was a very mild-tempered brown bear and so Green Limb didn’t worry that a trick would go wrong. In fact, Green Limb chuckled to himself as he formed his plan in his bigfoot mind.
Green Limb slowly and quietly lifted his right foot. He carefully placed it in the deep track of the well-used trail. Both feet now were painfully wedged into a narrow crack. Before Green Limb could throw out his arms for balance, he crashed forward. His massive chin grazed Amos’s shoulder. Green Limb laughed as hard as he could to reassure Amos that he meant the bear no harm.
“What’s going on, Green Limb?” Amos puffed out in astonishment.
“I was planning to sneak up on you. Guess that didn’t work out.”
“Oh, you silly bigfoot, I knew you were back there. I could smell you from the time you came over the top of the ridge.” Amos laughed good naturedly, rubbing his shoulder where Green Limb hit it. “Come on and sit with me.” He patted the spot next to himself. “The water is cool and pleasant.”
“Pull hard,” Amos shouted out in pain.
“I am pulling hard. Stop shouting, you little runt.”
“Now there’s no need for such harsh words, friend bigfoot.” Amos whimpered. His feelings were hurt.
Both forest animals swiveled their heads around to better see what was coming down the path.
Preston, it was Preston the mountain lion. He was coming for his morning drink. In their predicament they were at the mercy of this strong animal.
“Quick, roll under that bush.” Green Limb whispered. Over and over they tumbled until they both were hid from
Preston’s view. But Preston had whiffed Green Limb’s putrid odor. He knew the bigfoot was near.
“Green Limb, where are you? I can smell you. Come on out.”
Preston shouted, between purring contentedly and sniffing the air.
“What are we going to do?” Amos whispered into Green Limb’s ear.
Green Limb grumbled something inaudible. Just as he turned over, his ankle came loose from Amos’s ankle. “Good, we’re free of each other. Let’s get to our feet and swim across to the other side.
Preston will not think it worth the effort of getting wet just to harangue us.”
They took with them an exciting story that they repeated whenever appropriate during their long lives. They never saw each other again, but they never forgot each other, because of the exciting adventure they shared at Bright Creek.