"Bearing" It All

Our town seems to be in the middle of a coup.

By black bears.

Two photographs of a mama bear with her sweet toddling quadruplets in tow were in the local paper last week. She was on South Main in the insurance parking lot and marching down the sidewalk in another.

Maybe she was buying school supplies for the little darlings.

This I know: black bears can be dangerous. And if you are a mother to quadruplets, and the daddy has split, you are already in a bad mood.

Townsfolk: watch out.

I was told yesterday by a friend that one night this week her daddy was deep in thought, framing a picture. He heard someone at the door, and absent mindedly opened it.

There was a black bear standing there, on his hind legs.

Selling Avon, maybe?

He hollered and slammed the door. (Her daddy, not the bear)

The bear was after the hummingbird feeder hanging up in the eave next to the door, they think.

My mother's friend told the story about her daughter driving up to her house and a big black bear was sprawled on the porch, lying across the opening of the front door.

She started to  blow the horn, but realized if her husband heard it and opened the door, the only thing between the bear and husband would be air. Instead, she called him on the cell phone to warn him. Then she blew the horn.  But the bear didn't budge, he was resting, after all.

The only thing left: she left.  She visited with her mother until her husband called a few hours later to say the coast was clear.

I'm told visitors who stay in cabins complain they don't get to see a bear, and they want to. They think they are 'cute' and want to take pictures, the closer the better.

You've read previous blogs (well, at least I hope you have) about our bear adventures at my house. I am on constant alert every time I go out the front door, and make plenty of noise while I make my way to the studio.

I figure if the neighbors are home, they worry about my mental state, as I shuffle and whistle and clap my hands, make odd noises, and burst into song from time to time.

But so far, I have arrived at the studio unscathed.

Now, yesterday, I stepped outside of the studio to stretch my legs and saw out of my peripheral vision something moving quickly in the woods. I barely moved my head to see, and it was our fox, trotting busily along, obviously with a destination in mind.

I wasn't afraid. After all, there were several yards of ground between us, he'd run if I startled him, and he only weighs about twelve pounds, I'd say.

That doesn't mean he couldn't hurt me if cornered, but I don't have plans for that.

But if that had been a bear lumbering down the path instead of the fox?

I would have been afraid.

Because my mama didn't raise no fool.

Make sure yours didn't either.