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Elk hunting and culture shock:
A physician of some note would annually take a two-week vacation to indulge his sense of adventure and go elk hunting in the wilds of Montana near the Canadian border. For several years he hired the Montana area’s local guides from ads in the brochures he received, expecting to have a “trophy” for his library wall at home on the first trip. His expectation was unmet, and to make things worse he never even saw an elk on the first trip into the wilds. On the second years’ journey he was guided to a spot where he caught a glimpse of one, but no clean shot. Disgusted at the poor return for his expenses he left the woods for the local town after only a week. On his last evening in town he met a man in the local pub and related his frustration at not finding a trophy. The fellow laughed a bit and told the doctor he’d fallen victim to the “tourist” guides and if he wanted to really find his trophy he should hire a true Native guide. He gave the doctor the name of a Native American man who lived in the “wild” and was not easy to locate. Too late to go find this fellow on that trip, he returned home determined to come back the following year and hunt down the native before he went out to the woods.
A year later, the doctor spends the first five days of his vacation searching for the recommended guide, finding him only when the Native American broke cover while watching the doctor setting up camp in the woods. They talked a while by a warm fire and the Indian agreed to guide the doctor to get his elk. They left the following morning for the area where the guide “guaranteed” the doctor would find his trophy. Sure enough, as the second day was near an end a big male elk with a huge rack walked into the doctor’s sights and with one shot the doctor had his trophy. They dragged his prize back to camp and over the fire that evening the doctor was moved to somehow reward the native with some kind of “special” gift beyond the meager fee he had agreed upon. Remembering the man’s fascination at the doctor’s pocket watch as he’d checked it while sitting in the woods, the doctor decided to give him the watch. The native was overjoyed at the gesture, the doctor explained the winding and care of the timepiece. They dragged the prize down to town and the doctor went home with his first trophy kill.
On the next year’s vacation the doctor decided to go back and find the guide again, to have one more trophy. This to hang in his private office at work. He found the Indian quickly this time, and they set off the following day. Amazingly to the doctor there was an elk in his sights within hours of the next day out. That evening while sitting by the fire, admiring the latest elk the doctor asked the man about the watch, as he’d not seen him look at it the whole time they were together. The guide explained that within a month of the doctor’s last departure the watch had stopped, even after following instruction and winding it properly it would no longer run. He related that his reluctance to show the doctor the watch was borne of embarrassment, feeling he’d somehow misunderstood the instructions or done some damage inadvertently. The doctor asked to see the watch, and by the light of the Coleman lantern he pried the back from the watch. Turning it upside-down he gently tapped the side of the instrument, and out of the innards fell some dust and a small desiccated insect. Upon seeing this the guide, with a knowing look turned to the physician and said; ”Um... No wonder watch stop… Engineer die!”
A physician of some note would annually take a two-week vacation to indulge his sense of adventure and go elk hunting in the wilds of Montana near the Canadian border. For several years he hired the Montana area’s local guides from ads in the brochures he received, expecting to have a “trophy” for his library wall at home on the first trip. His expectation was unmet, and to make things worse he never even saw an elk on the first trip into the wilds. On the second years’ journey he was guided to a spot where he caught a glimpse of one, but no clean shot. Disgusted at the poor return for his expenses he left the woods for the local town after only a week. On his last evening in town he met a man in the local pub and related his frustration at not finding a trophy. The fellow laughed a bit and told the doctor he’d fallen victim to the “tourist” guides and if he wanted to really find his trophy he should hire a true Native guide. He gave the doctor the name of a Native American man who lived in the “wild” and was not easy to locate. Too late to go find this fellow on that trip, he returned home determined to come back the following year and hunt down the native before he went out to the woods.
A year later, the doctor spends the first five days of his vacation searching for the recommended guide, finding him only when the Native American broke cover while watching the doctor setting up camp in the woods. They talked a while by a warm fire and the Indian agreed to guide the doctor to get his elk. They left the following morning for the area where the guide “guaranteed” the doctor would find his trophy. Sure enough, as the second day was near an end a big male elk with a huge rack walked into the doctor’s sights and with one shot the doctor had his trophy. They dragged his prize back to camp and over the fire that evening the doctor was moved to somehow reward the native with some kind of “special” gift beyond the meager fee he had agreed upon. Remembering the man’s fascination at the doctor’s pocket watch as he’d checked it while sitting in the woods, the doctor decided to give him the watch. The native was overjoyed at the gesture, the doctor explained the winding and care of the timepiece. They dragged the prize down to town and the doctor went home with his first trophy kill.
On the next year’s vacation the doctor decided to go back and find the guide again, to have one more trophy. This to hang in his private office at work. He found the Indian quickly this time, and they set off the following day. Amazingly to the doctor there was an elk in his sights within hours of the next day out. That evening while sitting by the fire, admiring the latest elk the doctor asked the man about the watch, as he’d not seen him look at it the whole time they were together. The guide explained that within a month of the doctor’s last departure the watch had stopped, even after following instruction and winding it properly it would no longer run. He related that his reluctance to show the doctor the watch was borne of embarrassment, feeling he’d somehow misunderstood the instructions or done some damage inadvertently. The doctor asked to see the watch, and by the light of the Coleman lantern he pried the back from the watch. Turning it upside-down he gently tapped the side of the instrument, and out of the innards fell some dust and a small desiccated insect. Upon seeing this the guide, with a knowing look turned to the physician and said; ”Um... No wonder watch stop… Engineer die!”
