Having just returned from Alaska, I found myself telling bear stories. Not because we saw any, but because that's simply what you do.
I grew up in the Rocky Mountains, with many a family trip to Yellowstone, when they still had hundreds of black bears. We were told to steer clear of them, always good advice.
Unfortunately, no one has trained bears to avoid humans. So when my dad, an avid fly fisherman known for his uncanny ability to sense a good bend in the river, pulled over into a meadow and took off in his waders for a perfect place to fish, my mother, sister, and I waited inside the car, where it was safe.
Dad disappeared into the
trees, and we sat. Within five minutes,
we saw a gigantic bear lumbering towards us from the far end of the
meadow. Instinctively, we locked our
doors.
He got closer. And then closer. We looked around to see if there was something else he could be heading for, but we were the only item of distinction in the meadow.
Within seconds he was behind our car, his long nose jabbing up into the air as he sniffed. It was at this moment that my mother realized she had wrapped up some bacon and put it in the trunk. Yikes.
The bear took a swipe at our
bumper. Then at the fenders, denting
them in. He growled. He knew there was bacon somewhere in this
metal contraption. He placed his mammoth
paws atop the trunk and pushed down, bouncing the car on its shock absorbers.
“Don’t move!” my mother
whispered. But the bear was bouncing my
sister and me like this was a trampoline.
Now he roared, slammed all his weight onto the trunk, broke the car’s axle and popped a tire. It also bent the trunk lid in enough to pop it open, revealing all our luggage and, of course, the bacon.
My mother was shrieking, my
sister was wailing that she had now sat on a fish hook, and I was frozen in
panic. The bear rummaged hungrily
through our belongings, piercing a 3-inch thick book with his teeth, and finally
finding the bacon. A few chomps later he
sauntered off, apparently unwilling to break windows and eat screaming females.
No way were we going to open
the doors and survey the damage.
Besides, my sister’s fish hook was her greatest concern and getting a
barbed hook out of human flesh is no small project.
Five minutes later my father
returned, having decided this was not the best fishing spot after all. But as he approached the car, you can imagine
his surprise. The trunk lid was up,
clothing was strewn all around, and the entire back end of the car was
destroyed, like a bomb had gone off.
“What on earth happened? I was
gone ten minutes!”
And that, my friends, is all
it takes.
I recommend staying in the safety of your home, and watching my Youtube Mom videos right here.
