The Sherpa and the Snowman

A Himalayan Mystery 7
heads a storm of ridicule, prejudice, shocked disapproval, and
incredulity.
"I am not interested in this Snowman business" was the
automatic (and lasting) reaction of a mammalogist. "It is im
possible; impossible I tell you", sums up the attitude of an
course based
authority on the Himalayas. "The Snowman is of
on the Red Bear. And in any case nothing you see can be taken
seriously, because everyone goes a little mad and starts 'seeing
things' once they get over twelve thousand feet." Thus spoke a
prominent Zoologist.
Solemn warnings were issued against putting our trust in
Sherpas, summarised by the all-embracing
formula beloved of
sticklers for accuracy: "Do remember that a Native (sic) will
always tell you what he thinks will please you and what you
want him to say."
An exhibition had been set up, not so very long back, in a
Scientific Institution, to prove that the unknown beast from the
higher Himalayas was in reality based on the common Langur
Monkey of the mountain forests, which, it was supposed, wan
dered up every now and again into the alpine country above
the forest, when the superstitious minds of Sherpas and Tibetans
had endowed it with new qualities. Yet, others had identified it as
a Bear. ...
A
Bear and a Monkey! Could any two Himalayan
animals be less easily confused the great Red Bear and the
small Langur Monkey? A third school of thought had swept
everything aside into the realms of folklore and fantasy, and
declined to entertain any alternative theory. Might it not be
that was expert opinion being a trifle premature and (dare one
whisper it) unscientific, to give three such diverse and dogmatic
pronouncements on what was to simple folk a body of
vague evidence, adding up to no more than a general
impression?
Some said it was a horse
Others they said nay,
While others said it was a house
With the chimney-pot blown away.