four eggs for a story

She doesn't know about the trade yet. I go ahead and give her my goods 'cause it's a good bet. She's one of the most generous children I know. I could probably get the eggs without a story but trading is how we do things here.

"I got a story. Wanna hear it?"

She climbs on the stool next to me while nodding her head. Coordinated, this one.

"This is about a guy in the middle of a wilderness. He was spending four nights and four days in a place far away and this was his second night, in the dark, at eleven o'clock in a tent made for just him."

It's fun to watch her eyes. I don't deserve four eggs. She should charge me for the listen.

"At eleven o'clock at night he heard something. It was rooting and snorting in the woods and he wondered while his eyes tried to focus in the dark, 'What in the world could that be?'"

I root and snort for her though I'm not so good at it unless there's pizza of which there is none.
She smiles.

"He figured it must be wild hogs and his mind started picturing those hogs now far off but clearly getting closer to him. And it scared him and he wondered what in the world those hogs could do. By midnight they were so close but passed behind him and that young man had never been so grateful. That was a close one and he didn't know how good he could climb. Stronger in the legs than the arms, but most would bet he could get up a tree with something like that chasing him."

She thinks that's the end and talks about that one time when she remembers it being dark and how she and her daddy saw hogs that day. Her sister saw them, too.

"It ain't over. That boy in the woods, he heard those hogs turn and start rooting and snorting on the way back to him and by one o'clock they were so close that he decided to get out of the little tent. Back when he thought to google how to defend yourself against a wild hog he thought the light from his phone would attract unwanted attention. So at 1 a.m. barefoot and in the dark, the 6'1" boy thought his best gamble was to make himself taller. Light would do it. But he stood there in the dark and waited till that rooting and snorting got so close he knew they were right on him. He'd see them as soon as he turned all the lights on."

I root and snort again, but she calls me by name when saying, "You've already done that part."

"So quick he turned on his head lamp but it wasn't hogs he saw. It was two armadillos right in front of him. Those armadillos looked up at all that light streaming in from that boy's headlamp and cell phone, and they looked into the fearful eyes of a human standing there waving a trek pole at them."

Her lips form a circle of relief and happiness and everyone, maybe even armadillos, love a good story.

"Those armadillos were not impressed. They just snorted, turned, and walked away. Never bothered him again that night. The boy's grandfather has since apologized for not telling him that when you confront a wild hog, you walk up to him confident like a boxer with a small, two foot stick in your hand. Just tap him on the snout. That hog will tuck his snout and back away. He doesn't want to have anything to do with that."


Today I am grateful for trade. Those eggs will be good in that pound cake.