After seeing some of the other stories and ideas posted I've been really excited. Keep them coming. I've got quite a few stories but they're mostly very specific to Haliburton Scout Reserve and I try to make a point of not telling them except at Haliburton. The following story could be situated anywhere that once was a popular trapping area. Making it an area familiar to the boys adds a lot to the experience. All my stories involve a few simple ideas, that I shape and reshape each time I tell them. It's easier to remember a few details instead of 500 lines of dialogue. The stories evolve over time, but they're always good. My suggestions for good storytelling: 1) Only do it at camp, and not all the time. It keeps them wanting more. 2) Never repeat a story. Never read a story (exception: the diary story that was posted earlier- great idea!) 3) Wait for it to be very dark and the campfire to be nothing but embers. Insist on complete silence. When the story is over end the campfire. Send the scouts to bed immediately (or after a quick mug up). 4) Never tell them it's just a story . If they ask if it's true, try lines like What do you think? Anyways here's my contribution (This was stolen from a visiting scouter about 6 years ago, I've already forgotten his name).                   Spirit Animal                                   =============    As scouts we often visit the woods, but don't really spend a lot of time in the wilderness, especially not alone. One often wonders what it would be like to spend long periods of time alone in the woods. Could you cope?    Our native indians believe that one advantage to spending time alone in the wilderness, is that you might meet your spirit animal. They believe that everyone has their own specific spirit animal, and to meet your spirit animal is to make your life more complete. An indian might be canoeing alone across a lake, when he spies a bear on the shore. And as the bear looks into his eyes, he'll just know, that that's his spirit animal. Of course you can only meet your spirit animal when you're alone.    One kind of white man often spends a lot of time in the bush, and that's a trapper. It's a very lonely existence, spending weeks on the trap lines, as you go from lake to lake, trail to trail, collecting furs. They tell the story of one particular trapper who worked in the Haliburton area. One evening he was sitting near his campfire enjoying his coffee just after sundown. He'd had a good day, a lot of good furs, and now he was almost ready for bed. He stared into the embers of the campfire as it slowly faded away, thinking of how bright the fire was and how it always made the surrounding area look so very dark.   He thought he saw something at the edge of the fire.... No it was nothing. Then he saw it again. At the edge of the firelight was a racoon, sitting very still and staring at him. ``That's odd'', he thought, ``this isn't how racoons normally act.'' He hissed at the racoon, but it wouldn't go away. So he ignored it for a little why, expecting it would move on. After a few minutes he glanced back, and the racoon was still there staring at him with those eerie animal eyes. This time he picked up a rock and threw it at the racoon. ``WHAT!!?'', he thought, ``I could have sworn I hit that coon!'', but the rock seemed to have passed through the animal.   The trapper was now getting very nervous. He completely ignored the spot where the racoon had been (or maybe still was). He put out the fire, and headed in darkness for his tent, the half full moon in the clear sky illuminating the way. ``A good night's sleep and everything will be fine in the morning'', he thought. Something caught his eye and his head jerked sharply to the right. There it was on the side of path: the racoon, sitting still and staring at the trapper. He ignored and it and quickly turned away. BUT there it was on his left now. He hurried on to the tent now, only a few yards away, looking only at this feet. As he reached the tent he glanced up. THERE IT WAS. the racoon sitting between him and his tent!   About three weeks later they found him running through the woods, nearly naked and his body had been heavily bruised and torn. He'd been living like a wild savage, eating dirt or leaves, even worse than most animals. Although he spent the next twenty years in an insane asylum, he never regained the use of his mind. Some say he just snapped after spending too much time alone, especially in the woods............. Some think he met his spirit animal.