My Pet Bear

I confronted a bear in my 'front yard'. I heard noises from the open window, so I went out on the porch with a flashlight – I growled at the darkness like I always do to scare away stray dogs, raccoon, whatever, but it was all quiet. So I thought it might be teenagers or some other form of human prowler so I said to the darkness “Ok next time I come out with a shotgun.” Still all quiet. I gave the yard another sweep with the flashlight and just as I was about to turn and go back inside, the flashlight reflected the green glow of an animal’s eyes from the darkness near the corner of the garage. I moved the light back over to the eyes, and then noticed that all the blackness surrounding the glowing eyes was the form of the biggest black bear I had ever seen.

He stopped paying attention to me and went back to the goody bag that he had apparently retrieved my trash can ready for the morning pickup (or was ready). I watched in total awe for a minute or two – he was a magnificent looking animal. I say "he" because I am familiar with the relative sizes reached my adult male and female black bears, and this one could easily have weighed five hundred or so pounds. I’ve seen a few black bear in my day, even had a Yellowstone Park beggar lean up against my car hoping for a morsel.  But I have never seen one this big.

After some deliberation I decided that I should run him off since it could become quite a nuisance having the trash scattered around on a regular basis.  I growled, barked, and yelled to no avail.  The bear just kept eating and tearing up the trash bag. Then I was overcome with apparent temporary insanity and the wild notion that I could make a "pet" out of him - not in the classic sense, but perhaps feed him on a regular basis if he so chose to return. So I dashed back into the house and grabbed a fillet of Salmon from the fridge, went back outside, down the stairs, and started toward the bear. I held the fish out in front of me so he could smell it and maybe take an interest.  He stopped ripping the bag apart as I came within twenty feet or so.  He held a steady gaze into the flashlight.

Realizing the "dear in headlights" phenomena was likely in effect (despite his being a bear), I turned the light toward myself so that he could see me and make a decision. On realizing the situation he bolted toward the nearest tree and he jumped on the tree as though intending to climb it, but his weight proved too great for tree bark to support, but he held on as he slid downward leaving deep grooves in the innocent tree, and gave a mighty warning growl before reaching the ground. The magnitude of volume and obvious intent behind this growl brought me back to my senses and I threw the fish over near the trash bag he had been into, and made a hasty retreat back to the front porch. The bear lumbered off into the bushes. He didn't seem to be in much of a hurry so I went on back into the house hoping he would return to eat the fish in peace. It was an expensive piece of salmon and I hated to think it might go to waste in the belly of some other unworthy critter. Later I went out for a look and the salmon was gone.

My pet bear made one more visit some days later to destroy my bird feeder. I can't keep house plants alive. I don't know what made me think I could have a pet.

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