So many bad “bare bears” jokes could go with this bad video… but this truly happened one dark and rainy June night at our cabin in the woods.
My neighbor called to say two black bears were lumbering up our road. I grabbed the camera. As I pointed in the anticipated direction of sight, the bears took a detour and marched up to the house. What happened next was truly remarkable. “The he” nearly wined and dined “the she” on our patio furniture and they trotted off into the shadows for some large lovin’.
My husband called the neighbors to take up collection – for a room. We’ll be planning the cub shower next.
Let the jokes begin. So how would you finish this line?
If two black bears fornicate on the front lawn, would anybody…
When we came home from vacation on Sunday, to our delight, spring had fully sprung. Missing crocus season entirely, we stepped off the plane straight into full blooming daffodils. Willows leafed out in tender green waves. Red maples reached out their tiny leaves in search of the sun’s warmth. And our resident bear came out of hibernation before we emptied the last inch of winter bird seed from the storage can.
We had a heads up from the house sitter, mind you, and we would have emptied the last of the seed upon coming home had I not been plagued with a medical distraction. Having gained 12 pounds worth of edema in my legs, I was busy limping through 7 doctors’ consults, from ruling out blood clots to detecting what is likely a strange side effect of taking Celebrex. (Thank goodness it wasn’t the salt in the Margaritas! That, I couldn’t live with.)
Exhausted from it all, Tim and I hit the pillow early and hard by Wednesday. We craved a solid night’s sleep, but it was not to come.
The house rattled and creaked as the wind pushed and pulled, searching for a way in beyond the logs. Crisp brown leaves whizzed past the windows, illuminated only by the lamplight inside. The feeder swayed back and forth from it’s hook, metal grinding on metal. The cedar trellis whipped from side to side. From under my my chocolate knit afghan, as I sat with the dogs basking in the warmth of the fire, I lazily thought, I need to tighten those trellis screws.
In the flurry of all that commotion, something caught Jed’s attention. The curious cat ascended the couch, planted his face in the window and stared into the darkness. Then he started to pace.
Squirrel? I thought. We hear them trotting across the roof some nights. They use the trellis to reach the closest feeder with solid footing. I welcomed the thought.
13-year-old Charlie Hall is struggling, lost, and alone after his mother’s death, his father’s emotional retreat, and after graduating to the lowest rung of the junior high ladder, 7th grade. Wandering the mountainous woods behind his rural Idaho home, Charlie hurts deeply, silently.
While fishing one day, Charlie startles a hungry mountain lion who moves in close to pounce. Charlie, near panic, gears up for the fight of his life. Just then, an enormous grizzly bear—thought to be extinct in the area—rears from the forest on its hind legs, scaring the lion away. Charlie, noting the bear’s sharp teeth and claws, thinks his fate is now far worse, but soon learns that a deadly mauling is not in the cards.