The Bear Hunt

The Bear Hunt

Have you ever seen a bear? I mean a wild bear, on it’s own turf, in all it’s smelly glory? I haven’t. But I sure wish I could. I’d like to see a bear up close and personal. Not personal enough to get eaten, but I do want a good look at a wild bear. I’ve seen bear poop. And I’ve seen deer fur and acorns in the bear poop. And to answer the age old question, “Do bears poop in the woods?” - no, they do not. They poop in the middle of the trail. Right out in the open. Not even next to a tree with a roll of two-ply conveniently hung nearby. But it’s the other end I’m interested in. The end that can smile and say “Goldilocks” while I take it’s picture.

I have had a few opportunities to meander around in bear territory. I’m sure the fact that I’ve been whirring around in a gas-powered golf cart has nothing to do with my lack of a bear sighting. The National Forest near my home is full of bear and has many trails wide enough for golf cart sightseeing, along with other smaller paths for foot traffic only. It came to me one Saturday that I should get off the golf cart and walk into the woods a good ways. Peaceful and quiet. Just how a bear should like it.

My husband stayed on the main road with the carts (I guess he figured he was getting enough exercise pulling the beer up to his mouth) while our friend, David, and myself took off down a narrow trail into the great wilderness. The first thing I noticed was the amount of spider webs crossing the trail. Yuck! The first thing David noticed was how lucky he was that I was walking ahead of him and clearing the path of spider webs. The second thing he noticed was that he’s a good foot taller than me and I only cleared the webs away at the five foot level. He was still getting a face full. Yes!

About a half mile into our hike, we noticed a less obvious trail veering off to the left. Being the adventurous types, we took the path less traveled. Who knows, we could have been the first to walk this faint trail since the Indians! It led down to a couple of ponds, actually the remnants of a large lake. Florida has had some dry years and all that was left was a couple of small ponds (and 4-wheeler tracks - there went my Indian theory). But it was beautiful. The intense blue winter sky was reflected in the water, and even the vegetation around the ponds, dried up and rustling under our boots, was a pretty winter wheat color.

I pulled out my camera and took a few photos as we made our way around the ponds. It was so quiet I could actually hear the motor in my digital camera. We weren’t consciously trying to be quiet. It was just such a gorgeous, clear winter day and being quiet just seemed natural. So when we heard “it”, well, it sounded like something as big as a grizzly coming through the woods. Actually, it sounded like King Kong crashing through the woods. Trees were snapping like twigs, the sky darkened with it’s shadow and the air turned foul with it's stench, and I...I quickly positioned myself for the photograph of the year, a Pulitzer prize winning digital image of this great man-eating beast. I didn’t move off the trail. I just bent my knees and hunkered down to the level of the pond weeds, keeping my camera trained on the spot I thought the bear would emerge from the trees at. I was so intent on getting my shot that I didn’t hear my friend at first. He finally tapped me on the shoulder (yes, I was still out in front, the fearless leader on this expedition) and whispered that maybe we should at least retreat back around the bend. I reluctantly agreed, hoping the cover afforded us wouldn’t interfere with my prize winning photography.

I again got myself into position, training my lens on the edge of the woods, and waited. And waited. Nothing. No sound, no bear. Silence. Disappointment. I was just about to cry out with frustration when I felt another tap on my shoulder. I looked around and David grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. He then placed my hand on his chest. Holy cow! It felt like a herd of bison was stampeding around in there. And he was as white as an over-bleached sheet. Well, I do admit that what I said next was not very ladylike. And in the silence, my voice sounded as loud as a shotgun blast. I believe my exact words were, “You pussy!” Good grief, it was only a little old Florida black bear. Nothing to get bent out of shape about. It’s not like King Kong was bearing down on us!

After I quit choking on my laughter and mopping my tears, we headed back the way we had come, finally hitting the original trail. Since my outburst, we had given up the whispering and were talking normally again. I pointed out that maybe we should invest in a portable defibrillator if we were going to be doing any more hiking. This comment was not well received. But hey, I was only being practical. I would need all my strength to drag his behind out of the woods if he happened to see a scary raccoon (ooh!) and had a heart malfunction. Why waste precious energy doing C.P.R.?. A battery-operated shocking device would save a lot of time and energy. Just trying to be a good friend.

We finally made it back to the road where my husband was waiting with the beer and golf carts. Of course I immediately relayed the whole bear story, emphasizing my heroics (being the trail leader and holding my ground to get the photo) and describing how large the bear must have been to make so much noise. In no way did I exaggerate my friend’s lack of courage or his near heart attack. I can’t help that the facts speak for themselves. My husband then looked at us like we were idiots and informed us that two hunters and two dogs had exited the trail about ten minutes ahead of us.

So not only have I yet to see a bear in it's natural habitat, it seems I haven't heard one either. Does anyone know where I can get a t-shirt that says, “I went to the woods to see a bear and all I saw was some lousy bear poop”?