Alfred Packer the guy who had a few friends for dinner back in 1874 was the only person in the U.S.A. who was ever convicted of cannibalism. Late in January of 1874 the 6 men found shelter and food at Chief Ouray's camp near Montrose, Colorado. On February 9th, Packer and five companions left the camp, contrary to the advice of Ouray. Packer arrived alone at the Los Pinos Indian Agency, near Saguache, Colorado on April 16th, 1874. He was fat and had plenty of money. He admitted that he had lived off the flesh of his five companions the bigger part of the sixty days he was lost between Lake San Cristobal and the Los Pinos Agency.

So I came up with this ditty about Al Packer

Way up in the snow

Where the scrub oaks grow

And the coneys and the picas play

Where the marmots abound

All digging in the ground

And the wind blows cold all day

There's a little pile of stones

On a little pile of bones

That's what the archaeologists say

But the folks in Lake City

Well, they sing a different ditty

It would like to make your hair turn gray

Now, it's kinda hard to find

But it'll altercate your mind

If you happen to go the right way

You take Slumgullion Pass

And don't stop for no gas

Until you get yourself to Al's Caf