Snowbadgers

He had travelled the world far and wide,

Delved into the oceans and explored the skies.

From slippery-armed squid to sharp-horned pigs,

Wide-finned whales to tiny, slippery snails,

He thought he had heard every call,

And seen every creature, great or small.

Yet rumours reached him from far away,

Of a secret species not seen by night nor day.

A mysterious beast that travelled in packs,

And was untraceable save for the faintest of tracks.

 They said it could traverse mountains and scale their summits,

Navigate the coastline and swim through ocean currents.

As at home in the hills as in the sea,

A master of all with effortless ease.

Some said it was reckless,

Seen running across logs aflame with fire,

Or attempting dangerous feats with consequences dire.

Others said it was a drunkard,

Seen more often than not with a bottle in hand,

Running in circles and struggling to stand.

Some thought it was a monkey, with thick dark hair and gangly arms.

Others thought a meerkat, with a sharp, weasely face and cheeky charms.

A few swore it was a bear,

Active, affable and impossible to scare,

While others vowed it a mouse,

Often caught napping, if not asleep in its house.

From gungho enthusiasm and adventurous daring,

To woozy alcoholism and loss of bearings,

Rumours were rife of this chaotic creature,

So the adventurer composed a list of its features.

He questioned witnesses and drew up plans,

Plotted trips that took him as far as Japan.

Yet the criteria was so broad,

He knew not whether to search the skies or scour the fjords,

And was soon convinced that the tales must be fraud.

No matter how much he strained,

His investigation was all but in vain

And he wound up in utter pain.

So, not sure where to go nor how to begin,

He sat down and had a large glass of gin.