An Osprey, a Fisher Cat and a Beaver Walk into a Pub

“An Osprey, a Fisher Cat, and a Beaver Walk into a Pub.”

(A tale inspired by a dream of August 29, 1993. Wilor Bluege)

“An osprey, a fisher cat, and a beaver walk into a pub.  The osprey and fisher cat are exchanging grandiose tales of their fishing exploits.  In exalted language, sprinkled with flights of fancy, the osprey describes his soaring flight high above the surface of the water.  The reflection of the sun on the water makes it difficult to see the fish below the surface, but the osprey has learned the technique of observing his own shadow gliding over the water.  By looking into his shadow, he can see through his shadow to the fish below the surface.  When he sees a fish, he plummets precipitously, snaring the fish with his talons and soaring upwards once more.  Cheers erupt from the folks assembled in the pub, all of whom are hugely impressed by the osprey’s fishing skill.

Not to be outdone, the fisher cat describes in dramatic detail how she lurks in the forest, feeling her way forward with all senses alert, inching her way along the muddy banks of the river.  She hides in the dense vegetation along the edge of the river where a quiet pool has formed.  There she knows the fish will come to rest or hide.  Silently, covertly she waits — patiently, like a house cat watching a mouse hole, not too focused, lest she jump prematurely and her quarry escape.  (At this point, the tension in the pub rises noticeably among the listeners, waiting for the climax.)  The fisher cat continues:  at exactly the right moment, with one lightning-swift swipe of her paw, she scoops the fish out of the water and onto the bank, where she pins the slippery creature to the ground with her claws and dispatches it with her sharp teeth.  (More cheers erupt from the assembled crowd in the pub.)

All eyes turn expectantly towards the beaver, sitting on a stool at the end of the bar, munching quietly on a cattail root.  All expect him to give them an equally glowing and exciting description of his fishing exploits, but the beaver only harrumphs and says, ‘I don’t fish.  I’m a strict vegetarian.  I gotta get back to work. There’s wood needs cuttin’, ‘cuz the lodge needs fixin’; and saplings need to be laid in for vittles this winter.  See ya later,’” and ambles out the door.