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Steve Yellich was the kind of man that didn’t need a second opportunity to make a first impression—at least when it really mattered.
Born at the far end of his Smithers property, he lived in a cabin without electricity or telephone, so he had to be resourceful and make do with what he had.
One day, about a decade or so ago, when Steve was around 70 years old, he hopped up on the tailgate of his pickup for a well-deserved rest, after tinkering with an engine.
The springs on the tailgate were dry so they squeaked as he sat down, which he reckoned excited a beaver to run out from underneath and bite his dangling leg—the good one nonetheless.
“How come he never took a chance at my bum leg?” Steve wondered afterwards in countless retellings of his story.
“I wanted to go in the garage, to get away and close the garage door on him. I didn’t’ want to kill him. But I never had a chance.”
The beaver was on a mission, jumping up on his hind legs in ferocious pursuit. Steve realized the situation was going to require some full contact.
“I gave him all I had. And then I killed him. That’s why he’s dead.”
It took four blows with Steve’s cane. Now, this wasn’t just any old cane, no, no; it was a real, Canadian hockey stick. And despite being a Canadian beaver, this one had never been exposed to hockey. Or Steve Yellich for that matter.
The hockey stick didn’t break. It was a tough piece of wood, and you can hit pretty hard with a hockey stick, Steve said. “If it hadn’t been tough, the beaver would have killed me. It’s been a good cane,” Steve said.
He got the hockey stick from Joey Watson, his sister’s kid. “He gave it to me. It was the first hockey stick he had.”
Together with his brother Jim, Joe played in the National Hockey League with the Philadelphia Flyers and won two Stanley Cups with the team. In 1996, Joe was inducted into the Flyers Hall of Fame for his role in helping secure the two championships and for his efforts during 11 seasons playing with the team.
By then, Steve’s leg had healed, although you could still see the scars.
“I had to go to the doctor. I drove there. The doctor shook his head. He couldn’t believe it. But he had to believe it, because he saw the big gash in my leg,” Steve said. The beast must have had a big mouth for a beaver, Steve concluded.
The beaver didn’t live to tell his side of the story, but Steve never saw another one on his property again.
It doesn’t get more Canadian than that. Or northern for that matter.
Although Steve Yellich has since passed away—still in possession of his cane—his story lives on.
To pay tribute to cherished tales such as this, Northword will have a regular feature from now on: Only in the North. Enjoy it on pg. 32.
Steve Yellich’s story is one of many you can read at the Bulkley Valley Museum.Your Comments on in other words
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