Mervin was a curious, extroverted camper. Always keeping up with the front of the pack, mainly just to ask questions.
“What you mean they’ze Snipes?” Mervin inquired.
Obviously, the old folklore of “Hunting Snipes” had never been imparted on these children.
“Yea Mervin, there are these wild animals out here called Snipes.” I said, looking down to see Mervin, keeping pace, snacking on a pack of Nutter Butters. “They actually eat Nutter Butter’s too”
Mervin’s face was all the response I needed. Totally oblivious to my sarcasm, he had bought the story. Mervin slowed his pace to relay the story to his fellow hikers.
We had hiked another mile and then settled to camp for the night. Through dinner and the evening fire, I heard nothing about my Snipe story from Mervin or any other camper.
I only awoke to this: