Today on the blog I highlight a poem called "Track Soup" that my uncle Dave Biebel wrote a number of years ago. It's an all too familiar story for most of us. Thankfully, I will not have to eat any track soup this year since I already have one in the freezer, but I've had to eat some before. It doesn't taste good! Enjoy....
“What’d ya see?” inquires the Gramp
As the Boys come into camp.
“Sign,” they grumble, “lots of tracks.”
“Can’t eat that,” the old man cracks.
They settle down around the fire
To see which one’s the biggest liar,
Telling tales ’til half past when,
Then up at dawn and out again.
“It’s daylight in the swamp,” calls Fred,
“And time to get up out of bed.”
So, wolfing down some eggs and toast,
The men rush out into their posts.
But “skunked again” they mutter when
They wander in at lunch again.
“Tracks, BIG tracks are everywhere,
But we see neither hide nor hair.”
Gramps chuckles, “You’re some group!
Tonight I’ll make you some track soup.”
“First you take a pound of spoof
And stir in one filet of hoof…
Add a cup of old swamp water,
Buck lure and a pinch of laughter,
A bit o’ yarn, and empty shell,
A piece of antler mixes well…
Some apples and a big salt block,
But mostly just a lot of talk.”
“And, for dessert,” he winks his eye,
“A generous piece of humble pie!”
- Dave Biebel
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