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12


Name:
Ritik (czugm1tow@mail.com)
Date:Sun 20 Dec 2015 03:13:15 PM EST
Subject:waYTPJYCtIvPgYbuoAd
 

First time I heard a fisher cat I thhuogt a baby was being tortured. I ran outside and saw a huge fisher cat cornering my cat on the porch. My dog ran outside and scared it off, it came back several times that week, I warned all the neighbors that there was one in the area and to keep their dogs and cats inside. http://vfcpfkqge.com [url=http://tuvhcmhnndv.com]tuvhcmhnndv[/url] [link=http://bajnqgywk.com]bajnqgywk[/link]

 
 
11


Name:
Franziska (qmgqq9n4qs@mail.com)
Date:Sun 20 Dec 2015 11:16:29 AM EST
Subject:aRpMuqsMTfUsGAjPtoQ
 

TODAY me and my sister were%3Ca href="http://tnwprbi.com"%3E wakling%3C/a%3E past our neighbors house when all of a sudden it apperared we still arnt sure where it came from but we KNOW IT WAS A FISHER CAT (meow.) It pounced on my sister Britton, she didnt know what to do! She was bitten on the arm, leg, ear, and back. We figured that it was no big deal so we just put some band-aids on it. She just passed out I think. There is blood and foam coming out of her mouth but i gave her some water so it went away Its fine though, shes a tough cookie. FISHER CATZ ROCK

 
 
10


Name:
Aid (a18zeimx@outlook.com)
Date:Sat 19 Dec 2015 02:32:20 AM EST
Subject:LMLTbRgOpBED
 

Thnaks for taking the time to post. It's lifted the level of debate http://oenhazugda.com [url=http://vjybxdxbm.com]vjybxdxbm[/url] [link=http://gobbuqoyd.com]gobbuqoyd[/link]

 
 
9


Name:
Sourav (p63p7ev2h7@outlook.com)
Date:Sat 12 Dec 2015 07:35:38 AM EST
Subject:llqRWSXONICzBdoBq
 

A FISHER SAVED MY LIFE! After my mother's death in 1987 I was very dersspeed. I had lost faith in myself and in life and ended up farming my 2 teenage kids out to friends and going homeless myself. Home, as it were, became the woods of Phippsburg, Maine, where I pitched a tent and furnished it with a cot, a lantern and a camping stove. I kept my clothes in plastic bags. Well, I had been there through the summer and fall, and now it was late November. It was getting very cold and icy rains were falling hard. In fact, I was woken up about midnight one night and the rain was coming down so hard I thought it would flatten the tent. I thought I'd better get up and check the tent poles. So I flung my foot over the side of my cot and, to my utter shock, it plunged into frigid water about half way up my calf! So I yanked it back and grabbed my flashlight. When I swept the inside of the tent with the beam I saw a strange site all of my plastic bags of clothes were floating here and there. The tent was filling with water! I burst into tears and probably added another few inches of water to the flood. But incredibly despite how awful things were, the next day I STILL couldn't bring myself to rent an apartment even though I had $10,000 in the bank! That's how messed up I was. It was going to take something even worse to motivate me. Here's what finally levered me out of my emotional morass: it was the middle of the night, just a few nights later Thanksgiving eve I recall and I was jerked awake by the most god-awful sound. It sounded like a women being murdered and shrieking in the most utter agony! Could it really be that? But then I remembered that there was a local legend about The Phippsburg Shrieker, which was described as a yeti-like monster. And that scared me even more! In any case, it sounded so close that I thought for sure it whether it was a murderer or a monster was going to rip my tent open and kill me! I lay wide awake and shaking, huddled in my sleeping bag, clutching my open jack knife, all night. But that did it. I had finally had enough. So when, the dawn eventually broke an eternity later I took a cautious peek outside, and seeing that the coast was clear, I dove into action: broke camp; threw my gear in my truck; barreled to the nearby town of Bath and rented the first place I looked at which was a half of a duplex on Elm Street. Then I got my stuff out of storage and my kids from friends and we moved in. The place was a dump (but with good-bones ) and my kids dubbed it The Nightmare on Elm Street. But I was so happy to be inside where it was warm and dry, and to have my children with me again that I didn't care. And besides, I love to do extreme make-overs. (This turned out to be very extreme but worth it.) So, on the wings of my new found gratitude and abundance attitude I #1 turned the dump into into a palace, #2 started a new successful business, and #3 transformed my nightmare life into a dream. However, it wasn't until the following June, when I went back to Phippsburg for my birthday celebration, that I discovered exactly what it was that I had heard that terrifying night the November before. My family and I were seated in Spinney's restaurant ordering a lobster dinner and looking out at the sunset over the water. While we were waiting for our meal to come I got talking with some folks at the next table. They were local people I knew slightly. And in the course of conversation I shared the story of my encounter with the Phippsburg Shrieker. As I wrapped it up, I noticed the family exchanging knowing glances and grins. Then, after hemming and hawing a bit the father explained, Ayuh, we git rid of a lot of folks-from-away with thet monst-ah myth. But since you ahn't from too-o-o far away, I'll let you in on the truth. The Shriek-ah is really just a FISH-AH. Ayuh, ayuh, ayuh. Well, we all had a good laugh about that and ever since I have loved fishers, because if it hadn't been for The Phippsburg Shrieker they'd have probably have found my frozen body in that tent come spring.

 
 
8


Name:
Pat McFadden (p.mcfadden@stmarysschool.org)
Date:Wed 18 Jul 2012 09:59:52 PM EDT
Subject:Happy 50th 518!
 

Congratulations, 518, on the 50th anniversary! I was in the troop with Chris Noga through the eighties too. It was a great time for the troop with about four packed patrols and a huge presence at summer camp. I've got lots of great memories from those days. Cooking as patrols at summer camp (rootbeer and twinkies for Saturday morning breakfast), the troop in red berets, the Leadership Corp in camouflage aussies, the Dragon Slayers patrol, putting up 15' towers at the Brunswick Scout-o-ree, exploring the Quarry and a dry Lake Marnoc, putting a 3" ding on the keel during a Sailing Adventure on Lake George, catching and eathing shark on an Out-Island Adventure at the Sea Base (after the Cuban refugees washed up onto the scout base), having Carouso's Pizza delivered at Friday night retreat -- after the flag was down, of course -- fashioning a make-shift 3-canoe sailboat on the last morning of a Canadian canoe trip, working at Manatoc with my brothers Brian and Kevin, and many, many more great friends than I can name here.

After leaving the troop I went on to earn a Ph.D. in classics, and I live now in Memphis, where I teach Latin at a girls' prep. school and advise their student-run Honor Council. I'm a Den Leader in Pack 457 here and have a son who is a few months away from crossing over into Boy Scouts. A lot of what put me here came the lessons I learned in the troop. Advancement, and not just to Eagle, is about setting and meeting goals -- something that can take you far in your schooling and in your career. The leadership skills nurtured through the patrol method and Brownsea help greatly in working with the groups of people you deal with in your daily life and in your career. The Scout Oath and Law are guides for upright living that help turn out the sorts of leaders our society needs -- not always the ones it gets. The boys who were with me in the troop became great assets to their communities: police chief, military officers, business owners, firemen, EMT's, doctors, professors, directors of non-profits, and many more examples of success a n d integrity.

Best wishes to the next generation of 518, and many thanks for all the good times to my old friends and mentors.

 
 


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