Ordryke Bickerstaff, is the oldest member of the Punter Clan. He mostly likes to sit by the fire, at Bumbershoot Inn, and have a nice pint of Ruffersons Ale these days. He doesn't go out on the Poigle Hunts any longer, but as the eldest of the clan, he is the Grand Master of Hunt, and gives out the cup and ribbon for the best dressed and accoutered Punter. It is one of his grandsons, Guybo Gonebrain, which has rocks on his head. Neither he, nor some of his descendents, are known for their looks. Edgewicke Tottersdale is also related, but he is from the maternal line of Bickerstaffs, who were much better looking.
His eyesight has failed him, his age has assailed him,
his pole has grown short, with the passage of time.
He sat there and wondered, his life now assundered,
if nights spent Bird Hunting, had all been sublime?
He drank his Galimpy, it sure wasn’t wimpy,
as he reminisced, on his youth spent and how.
If I could live over, my life as a rover,
I would not have changed anything, thought he now.
I wasn’t a fool, when I snuck out of school,
to hunt the night watches, the rare Poiggle Bird.
But as he drank slowly, in hamlet quite lowly,
he knew in his heart, all might think him absurd.
His life as a wanderer, they thought him a squanderer,
but he’d held a secret, close to his heart.
His dreams as a Hunter, his days as a Punter,
had been all he loved, and thus set him apart.
Well he was persistent, in that all consistent,
he'd hunted like someone, obsessed in his mind.
He gave his life to it, and never outgrew it,
‘til age and infirmity, made up his mind.
He had to stop hunting, now he was confronting,
his life at its end, and just what he should do?!
At the moment the whiskey, had made him feel frisky,
but he knew that his days, as a hunter, were through.
With sudden clearness, he saw the nearness,
of his final passing, and he wondered at last?!
Why a fellow grew older, and finally stone colder,
and every last thing he had done, was all past?!
He shrugged a thin shoulder, well so I am older,
but dead I am not, ‘tis as good as it gets.
I have loved living, and much friendly giving,
I’ll not now be whining, and full of regrets.
For I am respected, he now reflected,
will live out my life, surrounded by friends.
So when I’ve gone over, put under the clover,
I know I’ll be missed, and my story won’t end.
The Poiggle I caught first, my luck good, not the worst,
as many I’ve fooled, and that is no lie.
Our great Clan traditions, with all its conditions,
have been all fare worth, it I’ll not sadly sigh.
Tho few know the reason, it’s still "Poiggle Season",
and I ever caught one, well that is all right.
It’s a great Hunting Party, all decked out and hearty,
enthused to be hunting, the Poiggle's this night.
So I’ll give the blessing, as they finish dressing,
glad in my heart, for the truth of our plan.
As I of the Punters, the best of the hunters,
retires with full honors, the head of my Clan.
Ordrycke Bickerstaff has a bit of the staggers, from drinking too many jiggers
of Galimpy whiskey, and Strombarky Daggers. It is the night of the yearly Poiggle Hunt,
and this year, his retirement party. He is passing the hunt leadership to Edgewycke Tottersdale, his nephew.
Edgewycke too has kept the Clan secret all these years, and so Ordrycke gives his nephew the invisibility cloak as well. He would have passed to Guybo Gonebrain, but he just was too lacking in mental capacity, to handle such a large secret as the cloak.