Our Bear Is Almost Ready
The monster took a shocking thirteen 12-gauge slugs to bring down, but once the gunsmoke had cleared and the marital bickering settled down to its normal level what we found in its stead was a big ol' cuddly furbasket with Xs for eyes and its tongue lolling adorably through the gap in its horrible, blood-crusted fangs. You don't know from cute until you've seen a 500-pound maneater on its back with its feet in the air like it's just playing dead. We could have eaten him right up, but it would have given us trichinosis.
Right then and there we knew we wanted to give the bear a place in our daily lives and so, after a quick stop back at the cabin to finish dinner, watch the aurora, go to sleep, wake up in the morning, and eat breakfast, we immediately got to work skinning it. I won't get into the process since it's pretty well covered in the video, except to point out that when you leave a dead bear sitting overnight, it builds up gasses in its cavities which spew out every time you shift its position and smell like a hydrogen bomb made out of farts. Which is pretty hilarious until it won't stop doing it.
After separating the good parts from the meat and leaving the carcass out for the grayjays, Heimo brought our bearskin into Fairbanks to get the skull registered with whatever morbid weirdo's job that is and drop the fur at the local tannery. The tannerer then sent the hide to our local taxidermist, Frank J. Zitz, who's been sending us great emails like "We are sewing your bear today--that bear has a very big fluffy head for his size," and pictures of the bear in progress. Here's where he's at right now:
All's we got left is to send them an appropriate rock for the base, some shades, and then that bear is ours to have and to hold and to hang things from. Yes, we'll keep you posted.
Oh, and we're also still working on a name for the bear. If you've got any bright ideas, please suggest them below. So far the front runners are Jonathan Bearingston Seagull and Daggerclaw.