As previously noted herein, Rufie Thompson, was Ranger Smith to our Kaluza Yogi Bears.
Opa and the boys and occasionally Oma and Lottie sometimes seemed to commit crimes against Wildlife Protection legislation as much for the fun as for the gain. It was nice to fill the smokehouse with salmon and meat locker with venison and moose meat, but it was nicer if it involved outdodging Warden Rufie.
Another Rufie legend goes back to the desire for the Kaluzas to continue to take home things that swam, flew or trotted through the land that the Nova Scotia government had the audacity to expropriate from the family. As previously noted, their representatives were lucky they weren't shot for daring to try to limit the ability of the family to feed their growing and hungry boys.
Annually, John Kaluza would haul his salmon net out of the barn and he and the boys (and Lottie) would trek the mile or so to the narrowest part of the River Philip. Once there tone would put on the hip waders and take an end and they'd catcher barrell-loads of Atlantic Salmon on their way back to the ocean after doing their nasty and repopulating.
One time, in the middle of the harvesting, Rufie snuck up through the bushes and brambles and bounced with glee toward Grandpa.
But John Kaluza was not a miner to be taken lightly. He strolled over to the warden. "Good morning, Rufie, what ya doing here?"
"John Kaluza! I got ya red handed this time. I'm takin' your fish, your net and finin' ya a thousand dollars."
Opa smiled and wandered closer and started to put his arm around Rufie's shoulder, then put him in a choke hold and started hauling him toward the river. "What ya doing, John?"
"I'm gonna drown ya, Rufie. I need my fish and need my net and ain't got no thousand dollars, so I'm gonna drown ya."
"No, John, no!"
"Oh, I gotta, Rufie."
"Let me go, let me go. I'll leave."
"Okay, Rufie, I'll let ya go this time. Promise ya won't come back?"
"I promise, John."
"Okay. You can go."
Opa let Rufie go and he went. This time.
Opa and the boys and occasionally Oma and Lottie sometimes seemed to commit crimes against Wildlife Protection legislation as much for the fun as for the gain. It was nice to fill the smokehouse with salmon and meat locker with venison and moose meat, but it was nicer if it involved outdodging Warden Rufie.
Another Rufie legend goes back to the desire for the Kaluzas to continue to take home things that swam, flew or trotted through the land that the Nova Scotia government had the audacity to expropriate from the family. As previously noted, their representatives were lucky they weren't shot for daring to try to limit the ability of the family to feed their growing and hungry boys.
Annually, John Kaluza would haul his salmon net out of the barn and he and the boys (and Lottie) would trek the mile or so to the narrowest part of the River Philip. Once there tone would put on the hip waders and take an end and they'd catcher barrell-loads of Atlantic Salmon on their way back to the ocean after doing their nasty and repopulating.
One time, in the middle of the harvesting, Rufie snuck up through the bushes and brambles and bounced with glee toward Grandpa.
But John Kaluza was not a miner to be taken lightly. He strolled over to the warden. "Good morning, Rufie, what ya doing here?"
"John Kaluza! I got ya red handed this time. I'm takin' your fish, your net and finin' ya a thousand dollars."
Opa smiled and wandered closer and started to put his arm around Rufie's shoulder, then put him in a choke hold and started hauling him toward the river. "What ya doing, John?"
"I'm gonna drown ya, Rufie. I need my fish and need my net and ain't got no thousand dollars, so I'm gonna drown ya."
"No, John, no!"
"Oh, I gotta, Rufie."
"Let me go, let me go. I'll leave."
"Okay, Rufie, I'll let ya go this time. Promise ya won't come back?"
"I promise, John."
"Okay. You can go."
Opa let Rufie go and he went. This time.
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