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THE NIGHT WHEN A MYSTERIOUS CALLER PAID US A VISIT
The night was one of those exceptionally cold ones. We were used to temperatures of 40 to 45 below zero, but seldom ever did the mercury drop to 50 degrees or lower. When it did, we all recognized that it was time to just remain inside near the fire until the biting cold passed. Even the sled dogs, our Huskies and Malamutes, would curl up in the snow, cover their nose with their tails, and let a blanket of snow cover them. Like us, they knew that the best thing any of us could do was to just wait it out. And that was just what we were all doing.
Kay was asleep in the upstairs loft of the log cabin, our three girls were all in one bed in a downstairs room, and Flint, our fourteen year old son was in his small room, under a pile of blankets, with a heavy animal hide thrown over all his other covers. As for myself I had stayed up until almost 2 a.m., sitting close to the 45 gallon drum that had been converted into a stove. Intermittently I sat toasting one side and then turning around and re-toasting the other side that had grown cold in the meantime. With a lantern hanging from the beam overhead I had, as usual, been reading and studying. Finally, after replenishing the fire one last time, I climbed to the loft and turned in for the night.
Immediately I dropped off to sleep only to be awakened about an hour later. It was my son’s voice calling to me from the steps that led to the loft. He was speaking in a hushed voice in an effort to avoid waking up the rest of the family. I heard his whispered, “Dad. Dad! Wake up, Dad.” Quickly slipping out from under the covers I padded over to the stairway, and trying to keep my voice low, I asked, “What is it Son?” Still whispering’ he said, “Dad, be real quiet, and come down stairs with me. There’s something really big just outside my bedroom window. It’s been standing right next to the wall where I sleep.”
Some might have thought it’s just a boy having a bad dream that scared him. That thought, however, never crossed my mind, because I knew my son too well. He was experienced beyond his years in taking care of himself in the bush, and in other difficult circumstances. Nor was he skittish, or prone to get upset over something that was inconsequential. If he said something was out there, then something was out there. The question was … what?
Moving silently, we approached his room. There was no door to open, and his bunk bed was located off to our right, in the opposite corner of the small room. The head of the bed frame was close up against the log wall and right next to the only window in the room’s tiny space. The place where he laid his head was only inches from the window.
The window was not made of glass but consisted of two layers of clear plastic, one on the inside and the other on the outside. They were nailed in place by a frame of one inch wide lathe. The plastic let in any outside light but was too cloudy to actually see anything outside. As for the cabin’s log walls, they were not tightly fitted together. To help keep out the snow and the cold the cracks were packed with chinking made of moss and mud.
One thing was sure … something was out there. Its heavy breathing could be plainly heard, and whatever it was had to be standing right outside the window next to the cabin wall. It had to have been only inches from where Flint’s head had been resting. It was easy to see why he had been awakened by the sound of its breathing.
At first he had laid there without moving, listening to be sure of what he was hearing. Then quietly he had crept out from under the covers and made his way to alert me.
Things now began to happen fast. Quickly backing out of the room, I climbed to the loft, whispered to Kay not to worry, that I would be back in a little while. Without waiting for her reply, I grabbed my clothing, descended to the floor below and quickly began donning the necessary wool garments, boots, parka, and mittens. Dropping some cartridges in my pockets, I took my rifle from its pegs over the door and we both stepped outside. As the door was opened clouds of ice cold air rushed into the opening, looking as if someone outside had set off a large CO2 fire extinguisher through the doorway. My son and I rapidly stepped outside and found that perhaps two feet of snow was covering the ground.
As silently as possible we moved toward the corner of the cabin.
Frankly, I was baffled at what we might find waiting for us. In weather like we were having most animals simply would not be on the move. As far as bears were concerned, they would, for the most part, be in hibernation, though some grizzlies do occasionally come out for a short period of time and then return to their den to continue their hibernation sleep. As for moose, if they had been anywhere near where we were staying I feel sure that I would have come across their sign. Besides that, they would have almost certainly have been at their winter gathering place on the far side of the mountain. At least that would have been the most likely place to look for them ... certainly not outside our cabin. It was, of course, obvious that it had not been a wolf. So what could it be? We had no neighbors, nor was it the kind of a night that any man in his right man would be traveling. And even if it had been a man, he would have sought to come inside and spend the night, not stand outside when he knew we would not turn any man away that was looking for shelter.
I had no answers that made sense. It was a weird and puzzling enigma, one for which I was anxious to find the answer. Consequently, we wasted no time rounding the corner of the cabin, and as quickly as possible we focused our eyes on the place where we knew that our mysterious visitor would be standing.
It was empty. Completely, and unmistakably empty.
Something large had been there all right, but whatever it was had somehow become aware of our intentions and had moved into the surrounding bush. At once we moved toward the window where it was plain to see that the snow had been disturbed. Immediately, falling to my knees, I yanked off one of my mittens and thrust my hand into the snow, feeling for some semblance of a track, but to no avail. Unlike snow in warmer climates, our snow is like fine powder that easily crumbles; it simply does not cling together and as usual, had left no clear, distinguishable print.
Such snow could be a blessing, or if you are hunting, a curse. We could be in snow up to our hips, yet when we finally entered our cabin, we merely had to knock the loose snow from our clothing, remove our boots and go inside. We brought no wet, slushy mess when we entered, much to our wives relief, I might add. Most of our cabins had what was termed a “mud room” just inside the door. It was here that we knocked the snow off, and if the weather was warmer we would rid ourselves of the mud that clung to our boots. Which, by the way, is why in the north, it is customary to never enter a cabin wearing shoes or boots.
Even though there were no identifiable, distinguishing tracks, it was nevertheless plain to see that something big had left a path of disturbed snow that crossed a small clearing and headed into the darkness of the thick spruce forest. So, heading into the trees, we followed the trail for perhaps thirty minutes before the biting cold drove us back to our warm cabin. In the bitterly cold weather my eyebrows and my moustache had quickly turned white covered with frost, and I could feel the hair in my nostrils freeze up. If I were to spit, the spittle would be frozen before it hit the ground. It didn’t take long before Flint and I both were envying the dogs lying somewhere under their blanket of snow, warm, comfy and with better sense than to be pushing through the snow without even a pair of snowshoes.
Our uninvited guest that night never returned … well, at least if he (or it) did return, we knew nothing about it. The following night the cold had dropped from the fifties into the lower forties (below) so once again, about 2 a.m., I slipped out of the cabin, alone this time, and spent two or three hours sweeping through the suspected area but heard nothing but wolves, and saw no other creature. What was it that had paid us a visit that previous night?
To this day … your guess is as good as mine.
Posted by cdrnorth at December 15, 2008 2:04 PM