An Aussie mate of mine was invited by a Canadian cousin to join himself and a few friends on a grizzly bear hunt in the Rocky Mountains. The Aussie jumped at the opportunity and took the first flight he could get to Canada’s rugged west coast.

When he arrived, his cousin found to his dismay that the only weapon the Aussie had brought was a boomerang. His cousin tried to tell him a boomerang would be quite useless for hunting big grizzly bears, but the Aussie just grinned and replied, “She’ll be right, mate!”

The hunting party trekked deep into the woods, and spent the first night in a log cabin.

The next morning, the rest of the party awoke to find the Australian missing. Suddenly, they heard shouts some distance off. Peering out the window they saw the Australian racing across a clearing toward the cabin pursued by the biggest, blackest, meanest looking grizzly they had ever seen … with a big bump on its head.

“Help! Open the bloody door!” he bawled, “Hurry! Get the bloody door open!”

The Canadians sprang to the door as one man and held it open for him. The bear was almost on the Aussie when he got to the threshold.

Then, in a quick manoeuvre, he jumped to one side, the grizzly rushed into the cabin, he reached in after it, pulled the door shut and yelled, “You blokes skin that one while I go and get ya another!”

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