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Curtis Jensen is on the road with Utah's Eagle Twin and will be reporting his experiences on this blog for your enjoyment. Enjoy.


Another day off. The 4th of July. We've set up camp on a heavily wooded island in Wisconsin.

Back in the trees, Tyler has a log over his shoulder, and is walking purposefully towards a swamp. Gentry has two maple limbs up behind his neck like horns, and is running low down and on the balls of his feet through the under brush.


Across the fire, a raccoon is squatting back on its haunches. We all stop speaking and look towards the animal. The animal cocks its head a few degrees to the side. In the firelight, the dark patches around his eyes are even darker, and the fine details of his black fingers are very clearly visible.

I look to Tyler and Tyler looks to me. Gentry keeps his eyes forward, with his arms resting on the edge of the table.

In its fingers, the animal raises something up in front of its muzzle, holds it there at its eye in the firelight as one would with a gem. It is a tick. The tick's legs are kicking. The animal squeezes hard, and the tick is crushed. The animal whips around quick, and we watch its banded tale loop off into the darkness beyond the firelight.


Out of the coals Tyler drags the bottle, and lays it on the leaves below the table end. He stumbles off into the van for the night. The leaves smolder, and a thin curve of smoke works its way up from below the scorching bottle.