Yeah, so, Newfie. Enjoy the randomly named animals, yes?
-Panther
Newfoundland & Labrador: Beasts
"MATTIE!" Suddenly, his brother was tackled to the ground by a yellow blur that barked. Loudly. "Hey, it's Mattie! Long time no see, guy!"
A large, muscled man with black hair and a furry brown cap with the ear flaps down bounded over with three other dogs by his side. He was giving them a friendly grin and helped his nation up despite the huge Labrador retriever trying to lick his face off.
"'Ey, Matt, long time no see, eh? I dunno why yer 'ere now, but what'ver! C'mon ta ma place, we'll 'ave some bear 'n beer, bye!"
His accent made his speech somewhat... foreign to Alfred, but he let himself be dragged along by his brother anyway.
"Great!" he laughed, talking over his shoulder to his brother. "Newfoundland makes the best bear steak you'll ever eat! And he makes the best beer!"
Alfred had to run to keep up with the large man's pace. He had to be at least six foot five, and he had a lot of muscle on him too. He was wearing hunter's garb, all camouflage with a slightly faded and patched up plaid shirt underneath. When he took off his jacket (to cool off, maybe?), he brought two fingers to his lips and whistled loudly. About thirty seconds later, twenty-something dogs ran towards him, all with ducks in their mouths.
"Good pups!" he called out, petting each roughly on the flanks as he collected the ducks. Mattie chuckled, removed his hoodie (how did he do that? It must have been five degrees Celsius, if that!), rolled up his sleeves, and got to work besides his province, plucking and cleaning the ducks, removing the bullets and checking for... Probably bullet poisoning or something.
The dogs wandered around America, sniffing at him and licking his hands. They were pretty much fearless, and he took some time to pet them and greet them. They all had leather collars, probably fashioned by Newfoundland himself.
"Hey, Mattie," he called out.
"Yeah?" his brother replied somewhat absently, preoccupied with cleaning up the ducks.
"Where's Labrador? I mean, isn't it Newfoundland and Labrador?"
"Hm." The largest of the three personifications sat up and looked around, like he was trying to find something. "Eh. YOGI!" he roared, drawing out the vowels. He received his reply in the form of a loud, booming, resounding bark! It echoed through the forest and thundering footsteps reached them in the form of a giant chocolate Labrador retriever who tackled Newfoundland, who had been smart enough to stand up and get away from the two countries. "Yogi!" he yelled cheerfully, throwing his arms around the dog, who looked to be in the midst of ploughing him into the ground with happy muffled barks and grunts. The beast had to be the size of a minivan.
The two wrestled for a while and Alfred couldn't help but feel a sense of awe. This was clearly a man who was friends with the beasts of his land. A rare feat.
"Who's a good puppy? Who's a good puppy!" he growled playfully at his dog, who yelped and took off faster than a car after the branch Macky had just through.
Not a stick.
A branch.
"Uh, Macky?" Mattie called out.
"Yeah, guy?" the province turned around with a friendly grin, brown eyes glowing in sheer joy at seeing his monster of a dog. The ear flaps on his cap flew around his head as he spun around.
"The ducks are ready."
"Great! You two go on head inside, I'mma stay out 'n play 'round with Yogi fer bit. I'll be dere da rackley."
"Okay."
Mattie smiled at his province and dragged Alfred inside, where they found two raccoons going through the pantry. The southern country got ready to shoo them away, right before his brother walked forward and greeted them with a hand(paw)shake each.
"Hello Tenny and Tanny!" he said cheerfully. Suddenly, a bird flew in through the window and dropped a small rolled-up paper on the counter before hopping over to a dish of seeds, moving the small plastic cover with its beak. It started to eat the seeds and berries.
"Hey Hef!" he gently stroked the bird's back and it ruffled its wings in acknowledgement.
"Uh, Mattie?"
"Yeah?"
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?"
From seemingly empty space, a cat appeared, clawed at Alfred's cheeks, then joined the raccoons in trying to find something to eat. The nation twitched slightly.
"Eh, sorry about Gallee, she's a bit sensitive to noise."
"... Right."
Obviously, Newfoundland was friends with the beasts. Alfred classified him as such when he got home later that night, also adding a footnote.
"Don't mess with Newfie unless you want your country's animals to start trying to kill you. Also, he makes very good bear steak. And beer."
I believe that N&L actually makes ale more than beer, but whatever. *shrug* And the bear steak? Yeah, they have special bear hunting outfitters... And... Totally want a bear steak now.
-Panther