Truly Thrilling Tales of Thrilling Truths
Mountain Dave decided that he’d had enough of this puzzlement. It was time to put his keen mountain instincts to good use. He started by cultivating a Zen-like state of detachment, to enable him to understand that all material possessions are transitory. This would keep him from worrying about his missing things, to better focus on the task of tracking down the pilferer. Buddhists liked to come to the mountains to relax, and he’d learned some valuable lessons from the occasional visiting monk. They could also do some great tricks with firewood.
After he’d achieved sufficient clarity of mind and purpose, Dave set about looking for evidence. He began by methodically searching the area around where each missing item had been. This was known as the Targeted Zone System, and was very useful for finding lost objects. He wasn’t sure it was appropriate, since these particular objects had been stolen rather than becoming lost, but it seemed like a good starting point.
One by one, he visited each of the spots where an object had been, alternately moving in close to look at individual details of the scene and stepping back to take in the whole picture. This was an approach Dave had invented, combining Gestalt theory with what Einstein called “die Beobachtung der Einzelheiten,” which was a mouthful, but echoed very impressively when spoken loudly in canyons. He had yet to come up with a name for this system, but was confident that one would occur to him when the time was right.
Once the intrepid mountain man felt that he had sufficiently absorbed the nuances of each crime scene, he stood back to survey the entire area and started putting all the clues together. A bent twig here, a crushed dandelion there, a few twisted grass stalks over yonder… taken together, they described the trail the thief had taken as he pilferously wended his through the yard. This mysterious bandit had approached from the south, lingering beneath a tree for a while, perhaps pondering the morality of his pending misdeeds. He then embarked upon his rampage of nighttime thievery, wandering hither and thither, clearly indecisive about what to snatch and what to leave behind. Certain items showed signs of having been picked up and replaced, such as the ceramic mountain rabbit Dave had placed on the porch for improved feng shui (he carefully readjusted it, of course). A muddle of back-and-forth tracks indicated that his potted mountain cactus (pediocactus simpsonii) had been taken away and put back at least four times. This crime spree appeared to be a spontaneous act rather than a pre-planned job.
Mountain Dave first suspected that the thief was a raccoon, a species notorious for their casual attitude toward notions of personal property. The evidence, however, said otherwise. The trail spoke of a sort of blithe insouciance, an attitude not typical of raccoons. Furthermore, raccoons generally focused on one or two items, and were rarely troubled by indecision. Finally, no raccoon worth his stripes would waste time lurking in the shadows pondering ethical matters when there was thieving to be done. No, clearly this was not the work of procyon lotor.
Could a bear be behind it all? Bears were underrepresented in local crime statistics, and a particularly competitive bear with a criminal bent could be trying to even things up. On the other hand, bears were not known for their spontaneity, and surely a bear attempting to boost the ursine crime stats would have planned a much more sensational crime. Speaking of sensational crimes, Dave had long worried about the vulnerability of the weekly snack deliveries to the local visitors’ station. The possibility of a would-be master bear criminal at large, however unlikely, reminded him to once again urge the staff to adopt his ideas for heightened security protocols.
One by one, Dave ran through the possibilities. Possum? No, a possum would surely have taken the cactus, and possums cared little for proper grammar. Fox? No, foxes always left a haughty calling card to brag of their escapades. As he eliminated suspects one by one, he continued to follow the trail as it wound its way away from his cabin. He had just ruled out ferrets and expatriate kangaroos when he spotted clear tracks in a muddy patch, and everything suddenly made sense.
After he’d achieved sufficient clarity of mind and purpose, Dave set about looking for evidence. He began by methodically searching the area around where each missing item had been. This was known as the Targeted Zone System, and was very useful for finding lost objects. He wasn’t sure it was appropriate, since these particular objects had been stolen rather than becoming lost, but it seemed like a good starting point.
One by one, he visited each of the spots where an object had been, alternately moving in close to look at individual details of the scene and stepping back to take in the whole picture. This was an approach Dave had invented, combining Gestalt theory with what Einstein called “die Beobachtung der Einzelheiten,” which was a mouthful, but echoed very impressively when spoken loudly in canyons. He had yet to come up with a name for this system, but was confident that one would occur to him when the time was right.
Once the intrepid mountain man felt that he had sufficiently absorbed the nuances of each crime scene, he stood back to survey the entire area and started putting all the clues together. A bent twig here, a crushed dandelion there, a few twisted grass stalks over yonder… taken together, they described the trail the thief had taken as he pilferously wended his through the yard. This mysterious bandit had approached from the south, lingering beneath a tree for a while, perhaps pondering the morality of his pending misdeeds. He then embarked upon his rampage of nighttime thievery, wandering hither and thither, clearly indecisive about what to snatch and what to leave behind. Certain items showed signs of having been picked up and replaced, such as the ceramic mountain rabbit Dave had placed on the porch for improved feng shui (he carefully readjusted it, of course). A muddle of back-and-forth tracks indicated that his potted mountain cactus (pediocactus simpsonii) had been taken away and put back at least four times. This crime spree appeared to be a spontaneous act rather than a pre-planned job.
Mountain Dave first suspected that the thief was a raccoon, a species notorious for their casual attitude toward notions of personal property. The evidence, however, said otherwise. The trail spoke of a sort of blithe insouciance, an attitude not typical of raccoons. Furthermore, raccoons generally focused on one or two items, and were rarely troubled by indecision. Finally, no raccoon worth his stripes would waste time lurking in the shadows pondering ethical matters when there was thieving to be done. No, clearly this was not the work of procyon lotor.
Could a bear be behind it all? Bears were underrepresented in local crime statistics, and a particularly competitive bear with a criminal bent could be trying to even things up. On the other hand, bears were not known for their spontaneity, and surely a bear attempting to boost the ursine crime stats would have planned a much more sensational crime. Speaking of sensational crimes, Dave had long worried about the vulnerability of the weekly snack deliveries to the local visitors’ station. The possibility of a would-be master bear criminal at large, however unlikely, reminded him to once again urge the staff to adopt his ideas for heightened security protocols.
One by one, Dave ran through the possibilities. Possum? No, a possum would surely have taken the cactus, and possums cared little for proper grammar. Fox? No, foxes always left a haughty calling card to brag of their escapades. As he eliminated suspects one by one, he continued to follow the trail as it wound its way away from his cabin. He had just ruled out ferrets and expatriate kangaroos when he spotted clear tracks in a muddy patch, and everything suddenly made sense.