Bear

Bear sauntered to her Favorite Place for breakfast. Of all the properties on the hillside, this five-acre lot was relatively flat, with lots of streams and ponds, blossoming fruit trees, and thickets alongside the winding driveway promising future berries. She could easily hide behind several mammoth cedar stumps, only imagining the size of the trees before the logging of the early 20’s. Dense undergrowth of Devil’s Club, hanging moss, vine maple, and Indian Plum camouflaged her movement from human eyes. The trees eventually rotted and fell in this wet climate, providing Bear with yummy grub and beetles. Bird nests dropped to the ground occasionally, adding protein to her diet. The spring bursting from under a nearby tree with exposed roots supplied clear, crisp water when she was thirsty.

This property was beautiful and bountiful, and, until recently, fairly quiet. A few families came at different times in the past, one putting a camper up and another building a small house. But these three new people seemed different. They have a dog that barks, so Bear carefully waits until dark to search for food. The family cleared the dense aspen grove near the house, so it is difficult now to explore outside of the woods without being seen. These humans have friends over, sometimes with more dogs. They even put a bubbly tub of water near the house and soak under the stars, so Bear has to be cautious even at night. But one change was promising. They loved bees and had put up a hive. Right in front of their house!

One morning, Bear reluctantly lifted her heavy eyelids. The birds sang their morning songs. Loudly. Ready to start their busy day. Bear had images of the bees busy gathering pollen from the wildflowers in the garden around their bee box. With the thought of honey creeping into her sleepy daze, Bear reluctantly agreed with the birds. It was time to get up. She left her hovel and meandered through the woods to the beehive. The hive held the promise of the tantalizing taste of the sweetest of all delicacies. There were only a couple of bees venturing out before the sun would warm the hive and encourage others to begin their day of gathering food for their queen and fellow bees. No noise or light from the house. From watching the area earlier that week, Bear knew the dog was inside. This would not be difficult.

A quick brush of her hairy arm and the top two yellow boxes were on the ground amongst the array of foxglove, cornflowers and lupins. Despite the explosive cloud of protective and furious bees trying desperately to penetrate her course layer of hair and skin, she was able to nonchalantly poke at the frames and gorge on the crispy, honey-soaked comb. The gold liquid sparkled in the early morning rays. It stuck between the claws of her paw, dripping into the course black hairs on her belly and legs as she scooped the pungent sweet honey into her open mouth. Protesting bees caught in the honey only added a satisfying crunch.

A handful of the insects found her eyes. She tried to brush them away but more came to her weak spot, their stings painful enough to make her pause. As she turned to retreat, she knew that she would come back for more later.

She spent the rest of the warm summer day wandering around the outskirts of the neighborhood, careful to say hidden. After splashing in the spring-fed pool near her hollow, she dozed for much of the afternoon and then woke famished as the sun was beginning to lower in the sky.

She meandered through the lush undergrowth of ferns and Devils club growing prolifically at the base of the cedars, evergreens and cottonwood trees. She trampled the fragile trillium and low-lying native blackberries. She was cautious but determined to finish her feast of honey. The goal was food without detection. In short order, she reached the clearing of her Favorite Place. As she neared the hive, she was surprised. The boxes and frames were not strewn in the garden as she had left them this morning. They had been neatly stacked again into a tower.

No matter. A swift swing of her arm and the boxes were on the ground again. This time, she devoured most of the bees’ remaining winter’s stash. Full and satisfied, she turned to the house. Curious, she lumbered to a large window and stood up to peer inside. Her dirty paws rested on the glass for balance. Scanning the main living area inside, she saw nothing interesting. She dropped down on all fours, leaving her paw prints as the only evidence of her investigation.

A few nights later, she returned. She remembered the tantalizing hint of something sweet emanating through a shed each time she had passed by it. She now ripped the siding from the building like a human might dig into a box of cereal. As a small hole emerged, she knew she was right. It was honey! With the full moon shining a ray of light into the hole, the stacks of old hive boxes were illuminated dimly. Her arm strained to reach the nearest box…not…quite. One more stretch and a rip of siding, she was able to reach the first box and drag it closer to the opening. Her claws dug into the frames and came out with splinters of wood and crunchy honeycomb covered with dried, aromatic honey. Not fresh, but tasty. Crack! She broke a few more siding boards as she reached. Just a bit farther for the next box.

Satisfied after a few hours, she deposited a large pile of scat next to the shed. She sat on her haunches and sniffed the air before leaving…were those berries? Next visit…

Later that week, and for the following few weeks, Bear found herself back at her Favorite Place several times, gorging on the newly ripened salmonberries along the winding gravel driveway. The mushy orange berries dissolved in her mouth as she brushed her tongue back and forth through the tangle of sticky leaves to get to the sweets. Between the honey and berries, she soon forgot her bland spring diet of skunk cabbage and dandelions.

Once in early July she went to the gurgling stream to splash around a bit. As she neared, all 207 pounds of her burgeoning body jumped back. A large heron exploded from its statuesque perch on the edge of the stream-fed pond. Bear’s approach had interrupted its hunt for the small green frogs that this bird feasted on. He squawked in protest but reluctantly lifted his body with a huge expanse of grey wings, landing on top of the shed. After a quick slurp of the green tinged water and a yummy clump of frog eggs, Bear finished with fresh wetlands grass shoots from the edge of the pond.

Bear was putting on weight. She knew she needed to before the temperatures dropped. It was a full-time job, but not as difficult this year. This neighborhood suited her.

She woke from a nap one day in August, extremely hot and bored. Although she preferred to venture out in the cloak of darkness, she decided to make an exception. She longed to lounge in the gradually diminishing muddy pond under the shade of the low limbs of the cedar trees at her Favorite Place. She lifted all 235 pounds of her body to start the short trip.

This time, humans were there and she stayed hidden behind the trees, curiously peering into the yard. Two children were chasing each other through a spray of water that came out of a metal contraption. They laughed and chased each other. The boy grabbed the sprinkler and sprayed his sister right in the face. No fair. The game was over. The girl sulked away from the wet grass to a bright red wooden chair, but stopped when she spotted Bear. “Look, a bear!” she squealed. Both she and her brother sprinted to the woods, right toward Bear. The mother must have been watching from inside and she yelled from the door, “Come back! Bears are dangerous! Don’t chase him! Craig and Terra…NOW!” But they didn’t listen. The black dog burst from the house, escaping through the mother’s legs. Bear turned and burst in the opposite direction.

Bear could run fast and the barefoot children could not. The dog reluctantly obeyed the mother’s commands to come back. The children gave up quickly when the crashing noise of the bear’s retreat became distant. Whew. Daytime adventures in the neighborhood were off limits from now on.

The never-ending quest for calorie consumption continued through the summer. The prolific red huckleberries on the ancient cedar stumps were easy prey. Plenty around the base of the stumps but the best were always on top. It didn’t take much for her five-foot mass to scramble up the six-foot stumps, especially when grabbing onto one of the wedges left on the old trees by loggers. The huckleberry season was barely over when the wild blackberries ripened. Even though they were tiny, these were easy to access since they crept along the ground in the woods on sunny patches, near the fallen cedar tree on the edge of the property, and in the “garden” between the two huge stumps in the back.

The hot humid summer was beginning to shift to cooler days and nights when Bear noticed a new smell as she foraged the waning blackberries near one of the stumps next to the shed. Apples! The tiny balls hanging from the tree that Bear had noticed earlier seemed inconsequential weeks ago, but now they seemed to have grown into luscious fruit overnight.

She sauntered over from the stump, and, sure enough, there was one on the ground. The crunch and then surge of tart sweetness as she scooped it in her mouth motivated her. It was still dark, with only hints of pink and light blue in the sky. The house was silent. She dug her claws into the bark and tried to hoist herself up. As she slid down, her claws left a trail of jagged scratches along the skinny trunk. The trunk was too skinny for her to wrap her arms around and she was too heavy to hoist herself up.

With her sharp claws placed firmly on the bark, standing upright, Bear pushed. Rocking the tree back and forth, apples bouncing on the ground, Bear continued until there was a blanket of yellow fruit waiting for her. She gorged. She shat. She gorged some more. She shat some more. Then she was satisfied and left the tree slanted over, surrounded by piles of scat.

She reluctantly returned to her home to let her stomach digest the fruit. After a day of sleep, she woke up ravenous and decided return for more apples. The tree was now upright! Two posts on either side held strong rope to the tree. She wasted no time. She swept her arm down hard on the ropes until they snapped and then resumed her task from last night. She continued to push and pull until the tree was nearly on the ground. Bear was happily feasting on another supply of apples. This continued for a few nights until she returned to an empty tree held up with four stakes and rope.

The weather eventually took a turn. The warm balmy days began to cool. There was a chill in the evenings. Leaves began to show hints of red and orange. One night there was a horrible wind and torrential rainstorm. Leaves and trees came down in the woods. The trickling streams now swelled and roared with the surge of new water.

When Bear visited her Favorite Place for food…any food…she became increasingly disappointed and a little anxious. She stepped through the now roaring stream circling around the property. The few berries left had shrunken and rotted. The apples had all been picked and the hive was gone. Yet she knew time was running short to consume necessary calories, especially protein.

She worked hard to do so. Logs were turned over to scoop up beetles and slimy grub. She found dogfood left on a porch. She traveled down the road to the row of garbage cans for periodic feasts…she learned the schedule. One of the neighbors had a filbert tree that enriched her diet with protein, adding fat to her growing 268-pound mass. She even found a gut pile to add to her needed protein.

But it took so much work and she was getting tired. It was harder to carry that weight around and to constantly find sources to add to it.

And then she found the answer. She had wandered back to her Favorite Place during the day, famished and desperate for nourishment. There was a huge commotion near a bramble of Nootka roses and hardhack near the house. Loud, cackling Stellar Jays shot in and out of the cluster like blue streaks. Evening Grosbeaks swooped in when the Jays left. A squirrel was dashing out from the bramble toward a nearby cedar. A large group of towhees were fluttering in and out. And the blackcap and chestnut-backed chickadees along with Oregon Race were excitedly pecking at something on the ground. Despite the bright daylight, Bear had to risk it. She had only walked near the house in the pitch darkness of night before, but now she sensed that there must be something worth exploring amidst that commotion.

A birdfeeder. Not just a birdfeeder. Four feet long, nearly two feet wide with a shingled roof on top sitting on top of a four-foot vertical log. Seeds were piled in the feeder and scattered on the ground. Sunflower, millet, milo, cracked corn.

As she reached the birdfeeder (or bear feeder?), the birds scattered with loud protests. She stood on her hind legs and began to scoop seeds into her mouth. So good. So filling. So easy.

Then “click.” She turned toward the sound and looked into the window, paw still in the feeder. A tall boy was standing inside and had just taken a picture. Startled and a little chagrinned, she went on all fours and trotted away. She would be back…next time at night. She would feast on the seeds. She would find more bugs…more garbage…more protein and fat. She would become heavier.

She would notice a stirring in her belly. She would dig her lair deeper for added warmth in the colder months. She would lumber through the snow as the weather cooled. She would curl up in her cozy lair. And she would sleep.

Her Favorite Place would be there in the Spring, and she would share it with her cub.

Author: Lucinda Hauser