Well, dang, we kin still hunt 'em with dogs here in Idaho. Ain't no season on 'em, neither, nor boojums either. Ain't nothin' like settin' round a campfire, drinkin' a little rye, tellin' a couple er six lies, and lissenin' to them snark hounds a-singin' off over the mountain. With a full moon risin' and makin' diamonds outa the snow it's plumb poetical.