Bears

Bears

It started about two years ago. It was springtime in Montana. There was still snow on the ground and the temperature was just above freezing. As is my early morning routine, once I had the coffee going, I went to open the patio blinds to admire the sun rising over the Bridger Mountains. Something dark caught my eye on the patio. Recently shoveled, I didn't remember leaving anything there.

A little later, after dressing and a cup of coffee in hand, I went out on the patio to see about that dark spot. No, it wasn't something I left after shoveling snow. It was a big pile of brown, stinky stuff with berry seeds imbedded in it. Recognizing the smell and the texture, I realized that a black bear had come during the night and defecated on my patio!

Judy and I live in the mountains with lots of wildlife. There had been rumors of hungry bears coming out of hibernation as well as sightings of mountain lions, moose and deer in our neighborhood. As I shared my bear visit with neighbors, I learned that the bear had visited their garbage cans. I started feeling like I was living in Yellowstone Park.

Since that original bear visit, twice again that same year, I had my bird feeders attacked and their wrought iron stands bent at a ninety-degree angle. It takes a big bear to do that kind of damage. Enough was enough, I started taking the feeders in at night and let my bear friend go on a diet.

Three weeks ago, we flew to Portland to visit our new grandson. While there I received a call from my daughter Katie who informed me that the bear was back. I forgot to bring in the feeders before we left. Three of my wrought iron holders were again bent and one completely broken. All six of my feeders suffered bear teeth and claw damage.

Just this morning, as I was hanging up the bird feeders, I noticed two of our neighbors had their garbage cans visited by that bear. Garbage all over the place. Now I love living where wildlife abounds but I think it's time to do a little bear hunting!