| Sandin Phillipson | | | | |
| | | | The fourth night, as dusk approached, I sat |
| The first Summer that I lived in Colorado | | | | with the window rolled down, waiting. After |
| provided me with an opportunity to do some | | | | three nights in a row, would the porcupine |
| field work in the western Rocky Mountains. | | | | pursue his apparently insatiable lust for |
| To reach my first campsite, I followed a | | | | rubber? I was a trespasser in his territory, |
| rutted dirt road along the bank of Hell | | | | but I had my own goals to achieve. Although |
| Roaring Creek, and found a rocky path that | | | | not a charging grizzly, he had already |
| led to an abandoned mine. A cold, mountain | | | | demonstrated the capacity to leave me |
| stream gurgled and murmured within its narrow | | | | stranded in the wilderness. I wasn't |
| banks, at the bottom of a narrow defile | | | | entirely pleased with what I was |
| carved by furious erosion to expose towering, | | | | contemplating because after all, the pistol |
| jagged cliffs of maroon sandstone on one | | | | was intended only for last ditch defense, the |
| side, and a more gently sloping mass of | | | | four-inch barrel designed for a point-blank |
| granite on the other. By early afternoon, | | | | deterrent against in-your-face aggression, of |
| the maroon hills were softened by shadow, too | | | | either the four-legged or two-legged variety. |
| steep to allow even the high Colorado sun to | | | | I waited for dark. Then, movement from the |
| fully illuminate the bottom of the miniature | | | | bushes as the giant porcupine slowly ambled |
| gorge. I unfolded my double-burner Coleman | | | | into view. I gently shifted the revolver |
| stove, and placed it carefully on the hood. | | | | into my right hand, my fingers pressing the |
| As the twin burners hissed bright blue heat, | | | | rough-textured rubber grip into my palm. My |
| searing mixed vegetables on one side and | | | | left hand curled around my right in a gentle |
| Dinty Moore on the other, I watched swallows | | | | caress. With my head motionless, and stare |
| dart after insects against the backdrop of | | | | slightly averted from my prey, I slowly |
| the waning Rocky Mountain sunset. I basked, | | | | brought both arms up and out in a locked, |
| self satisfied, in the sounds of the gurgling | | | | extended position, aligning the short barrel |
| creek, the ever softening sunlight, | | | | roughly on the center-of-mass of the |
| lengthening shadows, and lilting, cool | | | | porcupine out of the corner of my eye. With |
| breeze. As dusk encroached, I settled in by | | | | the trigger slightly depressed, my thumb |
| flashlight with a Stephen King novel. I | | | | found the gnurled, rough surface of the |
| read, mesmerized as rain pattered on the roof | | | | hammer and silently locked it to the rear. |
| and lightning flashed, momentarily revealing | | | | My eyes shifted along the length of the |
| the churning mass of foliage around me and | | | | barrel, aligning the sights. I began the |
| briefly illuminating the high cliffs, now | | | | slow squeeze that would send the hammer |
| turned blood-black. | | | | hurtling forward on its short, inexorable |
| | | | course. |
| | | | |
| | | | The thunderous blast of the .44 Magnum |
| After returning to camp at the end of a long | | | | exploded off the cliffs a split second before |
| day, during which the circling vultures | | | | I felt the familiar sensation of a fastball |
| seemed to take more than a passing interest, | | | | slamming home into my palm. As my eyes |
| my thoughts were only of rest. Again just | | | | adjusted to peer through the smoke and gloom, |
| after dark, a scraping, rustling sound | | | | I saw the porcupine scrambling back up the |
| emanated from beneath my truck. I raced the | | | | path, perhaps the first time in his long |
| short distance to my vehicle, and a giant | | | | dominion over this meadow that he had ever |
| porcupine rocketed from underneath. In the | | | | had to scramble. No, I wouldn't leave a |
| morning, I began to wonder why a porcupine | | | | wounded animal, nor would I repeat this |
| would show so much interest in visiting my | | | | debacle night after night. I leapt from the |
| truck every evening. The idea nagged at me, | | | | truck and raced up the short, steep hill, |
| finally arousing my curiosity to the point | | | | feet scrabbling for purchase on the loose, |
| where I had to crawl underneath and determine | | | | gravelly soil. As I turned onto the path, |
| for myself what fascinations the | | | | there was the porcupine, moving with amazing |
| undercarriage of a 1985 Dodge Ramcharger | | | | speed. I bolted after him, too close to |
| could hold. My amusement of the previous | | | | miss, my heart pounding with a mixture of |
| night quickly turned to shock as I saw the | | | | blood lust and a desire to make an end of |
| frayed, inner cording of the lower radiator | | | | this awful task. Another blast, like |
| hose, exposed where the rubber coating had | | | | dynamite within the confines of the narrow |
| been gnawed away. Similarly, the rubber | | | | gorge, and the .44 belched smoke and flame |
| connecting hose between the steel | | | | enough for a line of musket-firing dragoons. |
| transmission cooling lines and the radiator | | | | Quills flew and the porcupine dropped, |
| had been gnawed to the inner wall. All three | | | | twitching and spent. One final blast for the |
| fall belts had been gnawed through to expose | | | | coup de grace. I derived no enjoyment from |
| the thin steel wires. This was not quite so | | | | the destruction of such a creature, whose |
| funny, and I suddenly was forced to consider | | | | only sin had been an unnatural craving for |
| myself in a potentially serious situation, | | | | rubber, unfortunately at my expense, and |
| facing the prospect of being stranded in the | | | | ultimately his own. |
| middle of nowhere. | | | | |