Dressed like pioneers in an assortment of native and settlers attire, we spent days tracking the animal and finally caught a glimpse of it in a clearing, rummaging around in the snow. If this was indeed the mythical creature that everyone had referred to, then I would be the one lucky enough to bag it. I took careful aim and fired, and, as in the legend, the wounded animal let out a long piercing cry then a shout - 'Bloody Hell Colonel you shot me!' the Major complained for days and had to be moved from camp to camp by sled, his lucky raccoon hat not so lucky after all.
