FLOTILLA 49

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2. Stories From the State: BELOW:

 

 

The following story is true. Names have been withheld to protect the less then bright.

This and other stories in the following months have been donated by:

Thomas Beveveto, Waterways Conservation Officer, Southern Chester County, District 84, Pennsylvania Fish & Boat Commission

FROM THE POOP DECK

In the days of sail, the water cask was called the scuttlebutt. Here the sailors would exchange rumors hence the name scuttlebutt for rumors. Today the drinking fountain is called the scuttlebutt but it is still the place for rumors. Now the poop deck was officers country. Officers were believed to know what was going on, they had the skinny. So the real information came from the poop deck. Over the years the poop deck was shortened to poop. Hence the poop is the true story. RW

                              "Arn't Beavers Just So Darn Cute"?

  While John F. was fishing for trout in the burbling East Branch of the White Clay as it meanders it's way through the lovely countryside of Southern Chester County near the Auburn Rd. Bridge, he saw some geese, a pair of wood ducks upstream and a beaver on the far bank. He studied the animals with curiousity while they studied him right back. John took a deep breath of the crisp spring air and admired the blueness of the sky and listened to the breeze rustling through the tree tops and the sound of the water cascading over the rocks at his feet as he waded the stream, relishing his commune with nature and the tranquility of the moment and his favorite pastime while being overcome by a wave of pure peace and contentment. Looking back at the beaver he was just in time to see it charging him at full speed like some crazed apparition right out of a Tazmanian Devil cartoon! He could not even believe what he was seeing. In seconds the beaver had shredded his waders and was savagely biting him at numerous spots on his body including his legs, arms, underarms and knees. While blood dripped from numerous savage wounds on his body he tried kicking and punching the beaver to get it to leave him alone, but the beaver was unrelenting and continued its vicious attack. When John told me this story today, along with about 10 stocking helpers, we all waited with bated breath to hear what came next. John paused for effect, impatient I said "So what did you do?" John  looked at me and said, "I drowned it!" You can't drown a beaver I said. John said, "why not"? I said because they can hold their breath for at least 15 minutes. He said "I know! I had to hold it under water for at least 15 or 20 minutes while it clawed at my arms till it finally stopped moving!" The game commission was called and helped recover the body of the 64 pound beaver which tested positive for rabies. John got the rabies shots and will be fine except for scars, the worst of which are on his legs which some of the stocking helpers really wanted to see, but that's where I drew the line. I refused to let him pull down his pants to show everybody, though he started to, along busy Route 340 during the beginning of rush hour. The moral of the story is that just because its warm and fuzzy, and maybe even just a little bit cute, that doesn't mean it's warm and friendly.