What has two thumbs and is being captured in droves in the idyllic sylvan expanses of the Gordon Woods? The answer to that question is the hairless squatch, a close relative of the classic sasquatch that may be readily differentiated therefrom by its hairlessness. A tight-knit group of hunters and trappers subsists off of hairless squatch meat and the proceeds earned from selling their pelts as a humane alternative to cow leather. We spoke to several of these delightfully down-to-earth roughnecks at the rustic cabin in which many of the trappers abide, affectionally referred to as the “trap house”.
“This is the year of plenty,” crooned an elderly man extensively clad with flannel. His gums bore nary a tooth, effecting a very quaint manner of speaking. “I never caught so many in one season before. It must be the finest harvest in a hundred years.” I did not see fit to probe further into the statement as his wizened countenance avouched at least a hundred years of experience bagging squatch. To demonstrate the extent of his bounty, he directed me to a crudely constructed cage crowded with squatch. I was struck by the sepulchral silence of the cage. I knew not if these creatures were mute, or if they could cry out but chose not to because they understood the futility of so doing. The squatch nearest us appeared especially solemn. What saturnine creatures are these? As I looked into the plaintive blue eyes of the squatch, I knew instantly that they could emote just as deeply and richly as any man.
“Baked, boiled, or stewed. Any which way you please,” remarked the man when I inquired how the squatch are typically prepared as food. “I prefer them sun-dried. They make fine jerky,” chimed in another man, even more wizened than the first but equally toothless. He affirmed that jerkified meat (industry term) does preserve better, and for this reason they often keep it in enormous volumes in siloes, but he was unable to answer the rest of our questions, being uncertain what we meant by “umami flavor.” The trappers regaled me with accounts of a great feast for which they were now readying. Its date changes dramatically from year to year, so as not to allow the squatch to acclimate to a rhythm, though constant features of the feast include vast quantities of “vittles”, the imbibing of “squatch wine” (a strong spirit of unspecified preparation), and the subjecting of squatch to gladiatorial combat against ferocious beasts such as squirrels and ferrets.
It seems the trapper has as many methods of capturing squatch as he has furrows upon his brow. When our conversation turned to the trapping process, one of the trappers produced a dusty tome bearing the faint words “The Squatch-Trapper’s Bible, with the Trapocrypha’ upon its cover. The oldest trick in the book, dated to 1784, entails strategically dropping one’s wallet into a snare trap, taking great care to ensure that the event is witnessed by a squatch; the squatch, being a considerate and unselfish creature, will attempt to return the wallet to you and in the process become ensnared. Another classic favorite involves challenging a squatch to a game of ‘truth or dare’, at which point the squatch can then be dared to get captured, taking advantage of the squatch’s deep-seated desire not to appear unsportsmanlike. One of the most efficient traps, which enables one to “nab squatch wholesale,” requires painting a shipping container to resemble a chic new breakfast spot to attract squatch, then shutting the doors when a curious group enters. Despite its inelegance, however, the most popular technique remains digging scads of deep holes throughout the forest, based on the logic that “if you dig enough holes, a squatch is bound to fall into one sometime”.
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