Totem, Part I

With my many apologies to Jack London…

The old man sat under his own personal totem. As he did he, watched the ground squirrel he trapped in a loop earlier that day, roast over the open pit fire in front of him.

His stomach growl loudly and he thought, “It is a good thing to feel hungry after a long and hard day.”

“Grandser,” Junior asked, “Will you tell us how you came to your totem?”

“Let me have my meal first, boy,” the old man answered, knowing that his eldest grandson was known for his impatience.

“Sorry, Grandser,” he said, backing out of the plank hut that the old man called his home.

A few minutes later, and before he could finish eating, the children of the Yerington tribe began gathering around him and his fire to hear how the old man came to have the bird head that lived above his padded pallet that double as a seat and his bedding.

The old man made his audience wait as he slowly finished each greasy morsel of the common vermin that he felt fortunate enough to have captured. Like so many times before, Junior kept the youngsters in line as they grew restless for the story.