Scoutmaster Podcast 360

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And now it's the old Scoutmaster. Oh, I'm recording this just a couple of days before the shortest day of the year. That's right, the winter solstice. But on that shortest day of the year we begin tracking our way slowly through those cold, wonderful winter months back towards spring. And I'm reminded of a springtime camp out where the mosquitoes were just torturous right around sunset.

You know how it gets. So the Scouts gave up and retreated to their tents And as the sun went down the lightning bugs came out And I heard one of the Scouts say: well, we might as well give up and go to bed, Because now the mosquitoes are coming after us with flashlights. Oh, yes, And credit or blame for that one You can choose. Whether you want to send. Credit or blame Goes to Dan Dinkin, the Scoutmaster, Troop 97 from Baltimore Area Council.

Thank you, Dan, I think. Hey, this is podcast number 360..

Well, welcome back to the Scoutmaster podcast. This is Clarke Green. A short visit with you this week in the way of a holiday greeting that I recorded a couple of years ago and I played here again with my thanks for all of your kindness, all your kind emails and comments, all of the support that you've shown me over the past year.

It is so appreciated. We'll be taking the next couple of weeks off to celebrate the holidays and be back early next year to begin our Foundations of Scouting series, And I hope you'll enjoy that.

So here's my holiday greeting card to you and thanks once again. Let's get started, shall we?

It was our first night out. Camping Went all through the troop, Everyone was stirring. What a loud, happy group. The tents were all pitched and the fire was lit. As the Scouts sang their songs and each patrol did a skit. Soon they were nestled all snug in their beds as visions of instant oatmeal danced in their heads.

The Scouter's and Neckerchief's silence and ploughing had settled ourselves for a long winter's snoring. When out on the campsite there arose such a clatter, I unzipped my sleeping bag to see what was the matter. I crawled to the door and put on my cap, unzipped the tent and looked out. The flap, The moon on the carpet of leaves on the ground gave a luster of midday, as I looked around, When what then appeared to my initial survey was eight tiny raccoons and a miniature sled With a big hulking driver, all covered in hair, I knew in a moment it must be there, Silent and stealthy, his raccoons.

They came as he growled and grunted and called them by a name: Now Nasher, now Chewer, now Masher and Eater, on Gordra, on Nibbler, on Scarfer and Feter, to the picnic table in the cooler, with no time of waste, and the food these Scouts brought is ours for the tasting, as leaves that, before the wild hurricane, fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount up to the sky, so up to the coolers, his raccoons. They flew and filled their sleigh and their fat bellies too. I thrust out my head and I made a loud sound. Everything stopped and the bear turned around. He was covered in fur, from his head to his paw and his coat shown in the moonlight as he opened his maw, his eyes, how they glowed, his teeth how keen, and the claws on his paws were the longest I've seen. Half a bagel was tight clenched in his teeth and the package encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a giant round belly that shook when he growled like a bowl full of jelly. He gazed straight at me and he said: look here, we'll leave you plenty. But one night a year we get a few goodies for our cubs and kits. We'll leave the ramen noodles and other sundry vets. A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, Sud, gave me to know I had nothing to dread. He sprang to his sleigh to his team, gave a growl and away.

They all flew stealthy as a barn owl. But I heard him exclaim ere he flew into the woods: be prepared next time, scouts, and thanks for the goods.