Lions and Tigers and Bears ... Oh My!

It's a beautiful summer morning: 40 degrees; clear, fresh air; sunlight filtering through tree leaves with a shimmer and brilliance that's impossible to describe (you know what they say, "You have to be here!"). Around 6:45 am the mosquito-buzz of a low-flying plane interrupts early morning stillness. Planes never fly this low so I know it's the annual spraying for gypsy moths (the scourge of the forest!).

I have to admit that I'm still thinking about bears. Frances and I discussed our Thursday night visitation and, when I read her my previous blog, she mentioned that I didn't sound fearful. It's true! When I saw the second bear pausing by the side of the woods, I felt an immediate calm. There was wariness on both sides, human and bear, but as we both scoped each other out I sensed that the bear was not willing to take any more chances than we were.

Frances, admittedly, felt fearful. "The way the dog ran toward us, shivering and frantic, scared me," she said, "I thought he was being chased." She segued into a past experience several years ago when she and Namaste were returning from the mailbox. The dog ran ahead and disappeared into the forest near our house barking frantically. She heard a yelp. Then silence. Frances dashed into the woods, yelling, as she followed the sound path of crashing trees and underbrush. When she found Namaste, he was alpha no longer; he cowered on the ground with a sheepish expression on his face and a wet slick of saliva on his back. It appeared that someone held him in their mouth, then spit him back out again. Too close for comfort!

My cat, Hiziki (Zeke), and I had a close encounter too. Our first spring living in the woods I woke early one morning to the sound of running footsteps on the deck. Zeke spent nights outside, a risky venture since fishers, deadly, vicious martens who frequent the area, are well-known for their appetite for small animals. I dashed to the patio door intending to intercede on my cat's behalf regardless of the imminent danger. There on the other side of the glass was Zeke, back up, fur raised, and hiss emanating through bared teeth as he faced off with a black bear who stood no more than six feet away. Being a good mother, I didn't think or hesitate. I picked up the barking dog, flung open the patio door, and leapt onto the deck BETWEEN my cat and the bear.

That bear, another youngster about two, rose up on his hind feet, stared at me, whirled, ran off the deck, and climbed into the nearest tree. After I retrieved my cat, my dog, and my self I re-entered the house. The bear quickly climbed down the tree and rushed into the woods. It took several hours for my heartbeat to return to normal. My grateful cat followed close behind me for several days. (I now understand why mama bears are so protective of their young.)

My t'ai chi chih students tell loads of stories: the bear at the front door, the bear retreating from the patio, the bear that absconded with one of their chickens. Other neighbors tell of the bear on the deck staring through the living room window while the homeowner stared back, the bear who reached up to retrieve the bird feeder outside the bay window--that hadn't been filled for several months--and ended up banging up against the window as his bear paw swipes missed, or the bear who ate garbage until it was moved into the house and then broke into the house to continue his feast. Several years ago I heard tell of a mama bear with two cubs who hibernated underneath the porch of a house in downtown Bayfield. Later in the summer Rittenhouse Avenue, the main street, had to be temporarily closed when the mama and two cubs strolled through downtown and climbed a tree.

Lots of local bear stories this year. Which makes me wonder: Are the bear having a harder time finding enough food? It's a common fact that the strawberry crop is not as abundant as it's been in previous years. Or do we simply know more people up here this summer so that we hear more of the bear lore as it accumulates? Or, as we humans develop and expand and improve upon nature--logging is booming and new homes and condominiums are springing up everywhere--do we compress and confine bear habitat while oppressing their natural bear behavior? Of course, many people believe that humans have higher status than animals. Witness how benevolent and compassionate we are even as we kill hundreds and thousands of people each day through wars, terrorism, starvation, neglect, and untreated illness and disease. But, hey, that's nothing compared to the mass murders performed by bears all over the world!

This one-up attitude filters into our language and how we use it. For example, in my APA Publication Manual (Fifth Edition, 2001), regulations specifically state: "Use who for human beings; use that or which for animals and for things." Hence, my flagrant disregard for those rules in this blog. Who lived here first anyway? Who roamed through this forest and made it their home long before it was tamed, logged, homesteaded and, dare I say, violated? Whew. It's time to end, though I've bearly begun.