Bear arms

We’ve had a bunch of bear sightings this summer. On my drive home from work two weeks ago, I saw a bear wandering around the soccer field of a local grade school. I called the police about it when I got home a few minutes later, since the field was right around the corner from their station.

That weekend, one of my neighbors told me that they saw a bear in the yard beside our house. When they looked an hour later, the bear was still there, just hanging out.

Last Tuesday night, during Rufus’ evening walk, one of my neighbors was raking up trash in the woods about 15 feet back from the street. He told me, “I live across the street. My wife called during my drive to work and told me that a bear had just picked up our trash can and was carrying it over to the woods for breakfast.”

Tonight, we decided to walk down to the local CVS during Rufus’ evening walk, so I could pick up a Cherry Coke. About a third of a mile from my house, I noticed a jeep parked on the side of the road. The driver reached out the window as if to tap a cigarette. We walked up to her car, and she said, “He’s over there. Do you see him?” Pointing again, not tapping a cigarette.

I thought she was talking about her toddler, with whom I’d seen her walking many times. I wondered why her toddler was meandering around in someone’s yard, while she and her husband sat in her jeep. I looked where she was pointing, and realized that there wasn’t any toddler to be found.

However, there was a very large black bear beside the house across the street, in the process of emptying a trash can.

I said, “Wow, that is one giant bear!”, took Rufus’ leash from my wife, and trotted briskly on to CVS. As we got over the next hill, Amy asked, “Is there a reason we didn’t just head back home?”

Seriously, that bear would’ve towered over me on its hind legs. “Because . . . I wanted to get a Cherry Coke?”

We kept walking. As we approached the drug store, a pair of kids (around 10-11 years old, I think) were playing with their skateboard and scooter. One said to us, “There’s a bear back up the street.”

I told him that we’d passed it already, and thanked him for the warning. Amy went into the store and got my Cherry Coke. She asked, “Should we walk back the same way, or try the back road instead?”

I pondered for a moment. We’d seen the bear beside a house that let out onto that back road, so I figured there was a 50/50 chance he’d have come out on that side by the time we got back. I decided we’d go home by our regular route. The two kids left with us. I figured the bear would go after them first, since they’re trashcan-sized.

We approached the area where we’d seen the bear, and I figured that if it was in the same location, about 35 or 40 feet back from the road, chomping on trash, the five of us would be fine. Rufus gave no sign of sniffing him out, but he didn’t react during the walk down the street, either.

A neighbor across the street from that house called to us, “Be careful! There’s a bear out!”

“We know,” one of the kids said.

“No, he’s right over there!” the neighbor said, pointing to a stand of pine trees about 10 feet from the road.

I turned and bolted up the front yard of another neighbor and rang his doorbell, Amy and the kids racing behind me. The man of the house, whom I believe is a policeman, answered the door, and I hurriedly said, “There’salargebearacrossthestreet. Isitokayifmywife,dogandthesetwokidsstayinsideforaminute? I’llgogetmycarsoIcanbringeveryoneupthestreet.”

He assented, but started looking over at the trees, trying to catch a glimpse of the big bear. He offered to drive us all, but I impulsively decided a good run was in order. I handed Amy the leash and sprinted (as best I can) back to the house. The bear had already retreated from view, probably heading to that ‘back road’ area. On the way, I warned a neighbor who was just taking his little terrier out, “Gotheotherdirection. Blackbeardownthisway.”

He let out a yelp and hurried back into his garage.

I got to the car and drove down to the house. The two kids were getting into one of their mothers’ cars, since she was out looking for them. Amy & I got Rufus in, thanked the gentleman, petted his dog (he and Rufus got to make friends while I was gone), and drove back to the house.

And that’s life in Ringwood. Come visit!