Suddenly a man in camouflage emerged from our tree line to the right.
“Commo check, commo check” a voice sounded coming from a pouch attached to Charlie’s belt. Charlie reached into the pouch and pulled out a small radio.
“Roger,” Charlie punched a button and spoke into the radio.
We watched until Jeremiah was lost in the cover of the trees and then collectively looked at the time. We figured it would take about 20 minutes to finish, unless of course they ended up running back ahead of time chased by angry, screaming mother crows protecting their young. After 15 minutes, we started looking at each other.
“What’s happening,” Charlie spoke into the radio again?
“He’s just about at the turning point. I hear a lot of cawing and some crows have started flying down to take a look. He’s starting to move a little faster.”
“The crows are getting a little bit closer,” the voice spoke again a few minutes later. “Wait a minute.”
“What is it?”
“He’s stumbling a little bit. He’s turning around. No, he stopped. He’s down, he’s down,” the voice suddenly shouted.
Charlie called to the County Paramedics standing by and sent them in to find our contestant. Another 20 minutes passed until the Paramedics returned leading a dazed Jeremiah down the trail.
“The chemicals in his pot knocked him out,” one of the Paramedics explained as they led him away to be checked out. Charlie and I looked at each other. Hardly an auspicious beginning, I thought.
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