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Ralph and the Jackalope

Louis Fiset

Ralph, a hefty teenager, came out of the ice cream shop in Douglas, Wyoming where he had barged to the front of the line ahead of some skinny kids to get two scoops of rocky road.  What are you lookin’ at, pervs; get outta my sight before I smash you.

In the summer heat with chocolate, nuts, and marshmallow now dripping off the cone and down his hand he walked into a nearby building so he could wipe his hands and cool off.  As it happened, he entered the town’s museum with its relics and artifacts showing visitors early life in the community.  What a crappy place; what’s with all these stuffed rabbits on the wall with horns?  What a joke.  And with that, he wiped his wet hand on the fur of one of the critters and yanked the antlers for good measure just to see if he could pull them off.  He couldn’t.

Ralph tossed the rest of the cone onto the floor and stomped out.

Later that day, while his parents were on a field trip with a group of binoculared nature lovers, Ralph found himself alone on a dirt path leading out of town.  He didn’t like being alone, but the other kids seemed to avoid him and besides, they were all pervs.  The path led to a trail that headed toward a canyon in the distance.  Along the way he snapped off fragile branches and kicked large rocks off the side of the trail to see how far they’d roll down the dry sage hill.

In about a mile, as he rounded a bend in the trail, there squatted a creature looking at him square in the eye.  An odd-looking beast he was, indeed, for at first glance he resembled a jackrabbit with a wriggly nose, jackass ears, slender body and stubby tail.  But he wasn’t really a jackrabbit, was he.  He was too big for a jackrabbit and even more strange he had smooth antlers growing out of his head, just like an antelope.  This made him both taller, and more ferocious looking than any rabbit this young man had ever seen, except back there at the museum, you know, the one with ice cream dripping off its fur.

Come here you scuzzy animal.  If you didn’t look so stupid I wouldn’t have to rip the horns off your head.  The strange critter – let’s call him Jackalope – inched back a foot or two on his hind legs.  Was he afraid, or did he just want to get a better look at the apparition in his path? 

Ralph was a very impulsive young man and didn’t take kindly to anyone who didn’t quake in his presence.  So, without thinking he lunged forward to grab the thing by the antlers and fling him off the trail into the dry creek bed below.  But Jackalope was quick; Ralph hadn’t put his first foot down before a puff of dust rose where Jackalope had been an instant before.  The distance between them had now doubled.  Ralph tried again with the same result.  Again he tried, again and again, each time being drawn deeper into the canyon.

More than once Jackalope scurried away where he sat hidden from sight.  When Ralph scanned the landscape for a glimpse of the creature, Jackalope, who had vocal abilities enabling him to imitate human voices, cried out:  Over here!  Ralph obediently followed, his anger rising.

This activity went on for several hours.  Jackalope knew exactly how long, but Ralph wasn’t aware that the sun was falling behind a hill and he was being led deeper and deeper into the canyon.  But finally, the trail came to an end, for this was a box canyon.  Jackalope, it seemed, was now trapped and Ralph, standing at the edge of the trail with its steep drop off, finally saw the chance to pounce on his prey.

Don’t look down, Jackalope said suddenly.  And with that, Ralph looked down, became dizzy, rolled off the trail and bounced and bounced, boulder over boulder over boulder, until he landed with a splat in the dry creek bed far below.

Jackalope returned to his kin who had been watching from the rocks and ledges above.  He had been called upon to take care of the annoying problem of the day.  Now he received nods and nudges, not only by the Jackalopes whose ancestors had lived in the Douglas area for more than 100 years, but by kin who migrated from other parts, like Colorado and Nebraska, and even farther away where people refer to them as wolperdinger and skavader. 

Today people say that a jackalope once bred with a camel, and later generations of this union, the jacamelopes, are also on the move.

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Louis Fiset spent a long career as a dentist researcher/educator, ranging from treating dental phobia to training Alaska Natives to provide routine care in their off-road, remote Alaska communities. In between, he researched/wrote about the World War II experience of Japanese Americans. He has published six books and more than 100 essays on these subjects. Fiset is currently at work on a manuscript of creative nonfiction focusing on his professional and personal life.

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