Gordon Heavyfoot was focussing his attention on a large, rotten trunk of fallen lodgepole pine. He was ripping at the bark with his fore-paws while a myriad of ants swarmed helter-skelter out of the heart of the log. Gordon extended his extra long grizzly bear tongue into the big hole in the trunk, and pulled it out coated with the little red insects, which he schlurped into his mouth, licking at the fugitives who had attempted escape through his facial hair. "Come back here, fellows," he said, " you lads had better stick together, eh? Takes a lot of you buggers to make a snack for old Gord, and you wouldn't want to deny him satisfaction now, would you?"

Gordon went back to ripping the log apart, all the while singing to himself

If you could read a bear's mind
What a tale his thoughts would tell
Always thinkin of salmon and berries
or anything else his nose can smell
Like an aging elk or a wounded deer
In need of sympathy
That sympathetic bear is me
And I will never leave them be
Until I turn them into lunch for me

Gordon shook his head to shed some of the rainwater that had been trickling down between his eyes, and mumbled " boy howdy this here is some miserable dang weather for sure." It was just then that his good ear detected the hum of the engine of an airplane overhead, and Gord looked up to see the craft swoop low, and suddenly drop a number of objects into the trees not far away. Now Gordon had once been the recipient of half a salami sandwich on rye flung out of the window of a bush plane passing overhead, so one thought occurred to him..."if them boxes are full of salami sandwiches, it is for sure old Gord's lucky day, by golly!"

Leaving the ants to try to re-assemble the fragments of their devastated home, Gordon Heavyfoot ambled off toward the cache of salami sandwiches, mumbling "see you fellows tomorrow bout the same time."