Ursus Americanus

It’s just your average day in my new neighborhood. The sun is casting its warmth upon the ground, as I walk towards the garage with last night’s trash. Midway, I stop to notice a white pickup truck in reverse backing down our long gravel driveway. I call for my husband, who quickly steps outside to greet the visitor, while I dart towards the garage, garbage still in hand.

From behind the garage door I can hear our neighbor introducing himself to my husband. Apparently, he has come here to forewarn us of an impending danger. We must not venture towards the back side of the house, nor down the hill. Why, you might ask? Because, apparently, there is a huge black bear roaming our property. Let’s be clear here, I don’t do bears. Butterflies, field mice, and bunny rabbits are my form of preferred wildlife. I don’t really wish to hob knob with Mr. Bear.

“He’s a big one,” says our neighbor in a deep southern drawl. “Probably the biggest I’ve seen in a while.” “Whaaat?” I say to myself, with eyes as wide as saucers. Thankfully, no one can see or hear me. “Just don’t mess with a mama or her cubs,” our neighbor continues to say. “No problem there,” I say under my breath. In all seriousness, I’m grateful for our neighbors’ warning.

By now, both my husband and our neighbor have cautiously moved to a look-out point in search of the black bear. Sure enough, as if on cue, he is spotted running straight towards the forested hills. My husband is in complete awe and cannot wait to tell his brothers, while all I wish to do is get in the family car and skedaddle the heck out of here.

I know this is a common sight for the folks around here. They are quite used to it. This is simply new terrain for me. It would be akin to people visiting my home state of California and experiencing a mild earthquake for the first time. It simply takes time to adapt to a new region.

I’m practicing now, after today’s event, to make myself appear bigger in order to intimidate Mr. You Know Who. I also have an Eddie Bauer whistle, a pair of binoculars, a newly purchased air horn, and shoes with good tread. Hmmm . . . there appears to be something missing. Oh, I know, courage! I’m a coward. I don’t want to be eaten!

My husband is the type of fellow when trouble brews, bee lines to the head of the commotion, whilst I remain pulling on his shirttail pleading to run in the opposite direction. I mustn’t be too hard on myself, I have a very caring heart. I’m just not pioneer stock, and I’ve always known this about myself. To begin with, I’m small boned, as compared to the rest of my family. I didn’t like camp, and my nose can always be found between the pages of a good book.

I also have vivid memories of my grandmother patiently trying to teach me the four directions: north, south, east, and west. With outstretched arms as though I were a human compass, my grandmother would ask, “Which way is north, Heidi?” It seemed north was always pointing in the direction of her freshly baked apricot tart. That’s how I navigate my way in life.

And, should I come face to face with the slow lumbering ursus, I don’t know who would be more afraid—the screaming, whistle blowing, air horn pumping, arms waving maniac or the bear. Care to take a guess?

Postscript. It has been over a year now since my first encounter with a black bear. Since that time, I have had the privilege of seeing these exquisite creatures roaming freely in the wild. I have grown to love the sight of watching their shimmering voluminous bodies cross country roads or forage on mountain hillsides. Mind you, happily at a distance in the safety of my SUV or home.

I’ve also learned about proper bear etiquette, and this doesn’t involve wearing white gloves or your nicest Easter bonnet. It is best to not run when in the presence of a black bear. Stay calm, no matter how counterintuitive this may seem. Avoid eye contact (even if you do think you have pretty peepers). This is not the time nor the place to be flirtatious. Back away slowly, don’t turn your back. And, lastly, never ever interfere with a mama and her cubs. I also carry a can of bear spray if I happen to be walking or hiking in bear country.

If one follows these safety tips, hopefully man and bear can coexist in peace, harmony, and beauty.