I was seeing him, but also trying to process the past few moment’s conversation. The little flyer yawned, his impressive teeth sparkling white in the bluish light of the compact florescent bulbs that lit the barn. That sight reminded me that Greer had mentioned I should feed the pucks. I’ve always agreed with the notion that it’s a bad idea to feed wildlife, but this creature seemed too smart, too people-like to categorize as an animal. And I didn’t want his flock or clan (?) eating every animal in sight as that might include Charm or even me. Shuddering while thinking about what twenty of those things could do to a person, I moved deeper into the barn to the old chest freezer. Some old timers can venison, grandpa always preferred to freeze it. The freezer was so old its white coloring had yellowed to almost tan, but it still worked well. I can’t begin to tell you how many packets of butcher-paper wrapped venison had seen the inside of this box, it was a lot. I hadn’t hunted this past season, but Bob, Jr.
