Aug. 10, 2004 --Tuesday
| A Three-Bear Day |
| Copyright 2008 by Lewis Harris. All rights reserved. |
9:00 a.m.. Tuesday, or Bear Day I should call it. I've been up for
only three hours and I've already seen three bears. I guess the key
to sighting a bear is to be up and on the trail early enough or late
enough in the day.
I'm tired this morning. Sleep didn't find me fast enough last night,
and didn't stay long when it did. I felt like I was awake most of the
night, peering into the black and listening to the drone of cicadas. I
was probably too wound up from last evening's late burst of hiking.
I covered around five miles in the final two hours, which was an
invigorating way to end the day.
This morning, just after 6 a.m., with the first faint lightening of the
sky, I was awake and dog-tired. I hit the trail hiking at a hair past 7
a.m.. The path followed a ridge with the sun lifting up orange
through the tree bottoms.
After walking a half-hour, my attention was drawn to a thrashing
off to the right. A black bear clung to a tree not 40 feet away,
peering around the trunk at me with his black face and tan snout. It
hesitated only a moment before scuttling down into the underbrush
and crashing away from the ridgeline.
The trail eventually dropped into an area of tall, open trees awash
in a sea of short, green grass. The trail wound gently through the
morning shadow and led me to this picnic table at the Wayside,
with almost an hour before it opened. I carried a bottle of water
into the trees, my cleanest shirt, towel, and shampoo. I gave
myself a bit of a cleaning and stood in the cool forest, shirtless and
drying my hair. I spied a piglet-sized bear meandering its way
through the green blanket of short grass. It didn't notice me, and
wandered by.
I moved back to the picnic table and dug out my camera and
re-entered the woods where I first heard and then found the bear
climbing paw over paw up a nearby tree. A noise from above
distracted my attention to another tree where a larger bear was
foraging away at the very top. I walked around the trees below, but
the bears were quite at the top, and no camera shot presented
itself.
I tramped on a stick with a sharp "snap". The noise captured the
larger bears' attention. It became instantly alarmed and agitated. I
stepped away from the tree as the bear came rocketing down like
a fireman riding a pole, sliding along the trunk from a height equal
to that of a three-story house. It hit the ground and humped off
through the grass and trees into the shadows. To my left, more
racket came as the smaller bear likewise rushed to the ground and
scampered away.
I stood there, foolishly grinning, and, with nothing left to do,
pointed the camera at myself and snapped a shot. That will be
good enough.
only three hours and I've already seen three bears. I guess the key
to sighting a bear is to be up and on the trail early enough or late
enough in the day.
I'm tired this morning. Sleep didn't find me fast enough last night,
and didn't stay long when it did. I felt like I was awake most of the
night, peering into the black and listening to the drone of cicadas. I
was probably too wound up from last evening's late burst of hiking.
I covered around five miles in the final two hours, which was an
invigorating way to end the day.
This morning, just after 6 a.m., with the first faint lightening of the
sky, I was awake and dog-tired. I hit the trail hiking at a hair past 7
a.m.. The path followed a ridge with the sun lifting up orange
through the tree bottoms.
After walking a half-hour, my attention was drawn to a thrashing
off to the right. A black bear clung to a tree not 40 feet away,
peering around the trunk at me with his black face and tan snout. It
hesitated only a moment before scuttling down into the underbrush
and crashing away from the ridgeline.
The trail eventually dropped into an area of tall, open trees awash
in a sea of short, green grass. The trail wound gently through the
morning shadow and led me to this picnic table at the Wayside,
with almost an hour before it opened. I carried a bottle of water
into the trees, my cleanest shirt, towel, and shampoo. I gave
myself a bit of a cleaning and stood in the cool forest, shirtless and
drying my hair. I spied a piglet-sized bear meandering its way
through the green blanket of short grass. It didn't notice me, and
wandered by.
I moved back to the picnic table and dug out my camera and
re-entered the woods where I first heard and then found the bear
climbing paw over paw up a nearby tree. A noise from above
distracted my attention to another tree where a larger bear was
foraging away at the very top. I walked around the trees below, but
the bears were quite at the top, and no camera shot presented
itself.
I tramped on a stick with a sharp "snap". The noise captured the
larger bears' attention. It became instantly alarmed and agitated. I
stepped away from the tree as the bear came rocketing down like
a fireman riding a pole, sliding along the trunk from a height equal
to that of a three-story house. It hit the ground and humped off
through the grass and trees into the shadows. To my left, more
racket came as the smaller bear likewise rushed to the ground and
scampered away.
I stood there, foolishly grinning, and, with nothing left to do,
pointed the camera at myself and snapped a shot. That will be
good enough.
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