There we were, at Maclean Creek, and what struck me this trip was the incredible fresh quality of the air this excursion. It made both Foster and I feel invigorated and extremely alert. In fact, I’d felt so rejuvenated, I felt I could could see more clearly without my spectacles!
I heard a loud flapping as the sound shutters would make in a storm, and turned to see its source.
Foster said it looked like an eagle to him, but it most certainly was not.
“Yes, I know it was eagle SIZED, but it was clearly moth shaped! Eagle don’t have antennae.” I paused a moment, “You should be nervous. Almost everything you’re wearing is wool. No camp fires tonight.” I drew my pistol, but the creature didn’t return.
Foster left ahead of me and, for a long while, I watched the sky and listened, hearing only the roar of the creek and gentle blowing of the trees.
I arrived at camp to Foster boiling water over a blazing camp fire.
“Blast! I said NO FIRES! We need to douse this out expeditiously!!”
Foster protested he wanted cocoa before turning in and he didn’t see the harm.
“You can have your cocoa later! Moths are attracted to fire!”
Without warning, what indeed turned out to be a curiously large moth dropped upon me from the sky, knocking me into the creek!
“Damn you, Foster.”
I most assuredly did scream as the especially heavy insect crawled up my body heading for my hat! Within moments, my hat was eaten and the moth turned its attention to Foster. He ran down the creek bank, howling as the chattering bug pursued him.
I pealed off two shots from my pistol, hitting nothing substantial. I put my spectacles on, aimed again, and hit the moth in the bottom, as it continued to chew at Foster’s tunic. The fourth shot stung it enough that it fluttered away, leaving Foster completely naked except for a layer of fine dust.
“That settles it, Foster. Next time we’re out here, we’re bringing a crate of moth balls.”
-Capt. A.E. Sable