Once again Seramonial has contributed to our blog. If you missed his first contribution check out his poem "The Stream Too Wide" in our Issue #2 June 11, 2011. Now here is a story from Seramonial - about his meeting with a bear. Gives me a few goose bumps.
Bear Story March 10, 2010
My brother Bob asked if Mom had told me the story about the bear that visited when he was here from Ontario and Uncle Don here from Victoria in September 2009. She did. But do you want to hear a bear story? I went up Grouse Mountain (North Vancouver) at the top of Skyline Drive three times that summer, the last time Wednesday, August 12 – garbage day. The weather was dry the first two times: no berries. The third time dampness had broken the four-month dry spell for a week. Silly me. All three times were in the morning twilight hours. The third time I hiked a kilometre or more up the road above the power lines.
On the way back down just below the power lines, I saw a garbage pail dumped over and rummaged through at the first house on the way as if by a dog. I rounded the next corner to see an oversize garbage pail in the middle of the road that hadn’t been there on my way up. I reasoned that no three or four young boys were going to put that there for any reason. Even in the light, 60 yards ahead, I reasoned it had to be a bear. I didn’t move. It took 6 minutes before the bear settled back onto its haunches. Only then was I sure it was a bear the illusion was so real. I had to wait. To hike up the mountain was insanity. The only way down was along this road.
Five minutes later the bear turned his snout to his right, upslope. It was only another four or five minutes before the bear got down on all fours and ambled off into the bush, flashing his honey-coloured bottom at me in the process.
It wasn’t over for me. I wasn’t sure what the bear might do when I passed the spot where he had been standing. I slowly, gingerly, picking my feet up very carefully so as not to stir a pebble, stepped down the lower side of the road. I got to the next corner and felt safe. There were houses now. But just before the next corner beetling around the bend came two elderly female hikers. I said, “There’s a big dog,” being careful not to scare them too much with use of the word “bear”. But I must have looked like I’d seen a ghost. They said thank you very much emphatically, turned around, and beetled back down the hill at twice the speed, almost breaking into a run!
Mom has told me that bears can flatten the tops of their heads and that is probably why it looked like a garbage can. The bear must have been just as scared as I was, me partially blocking him from his element, the forest. He may have come down the road himself and heard me, turning to face me and freezing before I came into view. They probably flatten the tops of their heads by putting their ears back like dogs do, and maybe hunching its shoulders. I wasn’t giving to no bear. I gave at the office.
Thanks again Seramonial. [Caer]
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