Stephen Pranteau

The Hunting Party

“The two of us, cousins digging seneca root late in the season, decided
that the search for the medicinal plant will have to cease. It was simpler in
the beginning because there had been plenty of fruits, berries and all the
roots we could turn over from the earth.” Jay was reminiscing with his
cousin Norman on the open porch of his cabin. They were watching the con-
struction crew build a road. “I thought [ was goin’ to lose my foot that time.”

“It was a miracle we found you when we did.” Norman was laughing to
himself and he grinned over at Jay as they laughed.

‘Norman had lost his land and served time in jail for his audacity at try-
ing to stop the razing of his home,” thought Jay as he looked at his cousin
with fond eyes, ‘But still, he’s willing to joke and laugh.” “We came so near
death that for a long time we could not talk about events that day.” They
were going to tell the story to his and Norman’s grandchildren. Some of
them were in Jay’s small kitchen with his wife, Helen, getting some lemon-
ade and cookies.

As they entered, the young people sat down and encouraged the old men
to talk about their hunting party.

Jay took a sip of his lemonade, puckered his lips, peered at the yellow
water, set it back on the tray and launched into his story.

We were out in the wilderness. It was a hot summer. The earth grew hard
from the sun and lack of rain. The short stubby trees afforded little protec-
tion. The berries dried on their branches.

Jay, the younger of the two, decides to take a break and go hunting
because he wants meat in his diet.

“Hunting is getting really tough around here,” mourns a hungry Jay.
He’s in his early twenties, powerful in stature. His hands are the size of
beaver tails and they are almost as dark. As he yanks the head off the chick-
en, his ebony sun-tanned face twists sharply in one direction; as he peels the
skin and feathers, in another. He eviscerates the bird, then dips the carcass
in lake water. “Did you see how long it took to get this bird?”

Norman, his cousin, watching him prepare the bird, says to him, “Game
must have moved on when we got her. I can’t locate anymore of that root
either and we’re down to the last bit of our coffee. There’s tea left. We’ll
drink that tonight and save the coffee for tomorrow morning.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jay nods in agreement. “All our supplies are run-
ning low.”

67