Gordy Charles shows no mercy when it comes to dropping puns on you when you least expect it.

If you’ve spent time in hunting or trout fishing camps over the years, you were no doubt inflicted with the bite of the punster.

Some puns can be as annoying as a skeeter or black fly and sometimes just as inescapable. If you are among the PUNished, read on.

The pun, some might claim, is the work of the Devil—a means of provoking pre-Hades moans and groans of anguish from the inflicted recipients of the wild and wicked pun.

Revenge, they say, is sweet. All having been put upon by the punsters of this outdoor world, take comfort. Help is at hand and the revenge may be all the sweeter for the wait.

Certainly one knows more about puns that one Traverse City area man—and he’s got the book to prove it. This gentleman is the unchallenged King of the Pun, the master of the play on words, the Grand Inquisitor who can inflict room-wide groans at the drop of a few twisty lines, and he has no shame over it at all. He’s my old friend, Gordon “Gordy” Charles.

Gordy is a man who shows no mercy when it comes to dropping puns on you when you least expect it—though to be honest you should always suspect that it will happen before your face-to-face with Gordy ends.

Gordy is a longtime outdoor writer whose syndicated column, “Outdoors with Gordy” has appeared in a number of Michigan newspapers over the years. He is a legend among Michigan’s outdoor writers, with a history in broadcasting before the ink part of his profession took over from the voice. Awards for his work have been numerous over the years.

This writer has been a friend of Gordy’s for over three decades. I have hunted snow geese with him in Texas, fished with him on several Great Lakes, climbed together through caverns in Tennessee, stomped with him through the Michigan shintangle looking for grouse and woodcock, and even engaged in an armadillo race.

Generally I have had one heck of a good time over the years hanging with this relentless master of the pun. By now I have developed a high tolerance for the puns that Gordy drops freely in any situation and at any time—but I still I get zinged every so often even though I know one’s coming.

There are many examples of his PUNsmanship prowess, but the clincher was one that he pulled when we two were with a group of outdoor and environmental writers on a tour of forestlands in Maine. We had toured large stands of European larch and hybrid fir and balsam in some Maine woodlands owned by St. Regis Paper Company, supplier of special printing papers used in magazines like Time, Life, Sports Illustrated, and other slick magazines. Gordy and I were there to see if these exotic forest species would have application to our Michigan forests.

After several days of tromping Maine’s rock rubble and deadfalls that served for topsoil in that part of the world, we were tired and ready to head for home. But our hosts tossed us a Maine Lobster dinner as our farewell banquet, and served more than a few

Maine versions of Stumpknockers. That sort of loosened up some of the other writers on the tour, and someone, not knowing what he was setting himself up for, began to quip with a pun…”If we are on a forest tour does that mean we are a new BRANCH of journalism?” Another joined in…”Maybe we’re just a SPLINTER group.” “We might get TRUNK with power.” “Stop it or I’ll make you walk the PLANK.” And so it went, each of the other writers adding more puns to each round, each one worse than the others.

Surprisingly, Gordy had remained stoically mute at this point, not one quip, not one bon mot, just silence. But then I saw that look in his eyes that hinted that, like Vesuvius, some eruption could not be far off. He was like a cougar ready to pounce as some unsuspecting prey came closer.

After the puns began to wind down, one writer said…”If you guys don’t quit this PUNishment, I’ll report you to Washington!”

At that final remark, Gordy struck.

“Oh, yeah, Washington—FOREST in war, FOREST in peace, FOREST in the hearts of his countrymen.”

A stunned, silent bunch sat there in shock, zapped by the master. Finally, one writer in the back of the room waved a white napkin in surrender. Gordy had met the pretenders and they were now in post-pun shambles.

After a lifetime of inflicting PUNishment on people one to two at a time, Gordy has collected hundreds of groan producers into one nifty little softcover book that he has self published.

If you ever wanted to have revenge on those who have pummeled your ears over the years with puns, it is here in this handy guide to one-ups-man-ship in the art of the classic pun you’ll find the ammunition to fight back.

Stalking and Capturing the Wild Pun, by Gordon Charles and Gene Hibbard, 98 pages; 14.95; with Cartoons by Hibbard (If your local book store does not carry it you may order direct from Gordy at 774 Fox Hunt Lane, Traverse City, MI 49686 at $17.95 postpaid.)

Gordy’s endless string of puns have been wonderfully embellished by the cartoons of the late Gene Hibbard, a journalist who also wielded a clever pen and brush.

With future fish and game seasons ahead, the likelihood is that some wild puns may begin to run rampant amid your camp party. Be prepared, be armed, and be ready. When it comes to ammunition to humble the would-be punsters in your gang, do not leave home without this witty weapon. But be warned. Like Gordy himself, exposure to puns can be infectious. Once bitten there is no cure; but this little book offers life support for the victims and a handy guide for revenge.