07/21/2017 ; 23:00 hours(ish) - The Visitors
Last night, 11pm-ish, at the new farmhouse. Renee and I sitting back, watching a movie (Ghost in the Shell), all of a sudden, doggos go bonkers. Confusion erupts. Barks are flying left and right. Guttural growls and hackles like porcupines. Frantic running from room-to-room. Lots of pacing around the house on our part, porch lights going on and off, peeks out the window, nothing to be seen.
Nothing.
But the dogs are still acting crazy. A cat maybe? A dog barking in the distance? Coyotes cackling? Things calm down. The barks subside. Hackles lowered. Dogs resume being lazy fluffers. Beers acquired for the humans. Movie resumes. Minutes later all hell erupts from the bedroom. Dogs in full-blown canine frenzy (and anyone that knows our dogs, esp. Orion, knows this is...odd.) Barking will not, can not, be quelled. Oliver in full-blown, "Imma bout to fuck shit up" mode.
Fear levels rise.
Porch lights back on. Flashlights come out. More peeks through the windows. Still nothing. Nothing.
Thoughts of breaking out the gun. Just in case. I go into the bedroom and hear a sound I've never heard before. At least not in person. Not on this planet. Like a little kid yelping. Mewing. Crying out in some fucked up ethereal horror movie sort of way. Fucking cats in heat again? Wouldn't be the first night. No, not cats. Too (human?) of a sound. Not enough feline moaning. It sounds like it's coming from the tree.
What the actual fuck?
Flashlight comes out. I hunker down by the bedroom window. The light uncovers a tree shrouded in darkness. On the base of the tree, around the vehicles, nothing. Still hear that weird mutant-toddler-like mew. A pear hits the ground. Another. A small branch snaps. What on earth? God damn rakins again?
A Rakin in the Nova Scotian wilds.
Huddled there by the window. The dogs begin to calm. Mirroring my own intense stares out the window. Oliver seems to realize this is the game now: silent hunting. Don't make a peep. I move the flashlight up the tree. Still nothing. But still that creepy-ass mewing. Light moves further up the tree. A figure. Small. Dark. Puppy-sized. A rakin. I knew it. Never heard one make that particular sound before. But yeah, just a rakin.
Prepare to return to the movie. All is well. Well, wait a second. What the fuck is that!?!
Twigs snapping. Oliver begins to growl. The mewing gets louder. More desperate. Even with the light, it’s hard to see anything. Flashlight keeps reflecting off the window screen. I go upstairs. Trying to get a better look. From second story window I look out to the tree. There it is. The mystery is solved. It’s not a rakin. It’s not a cat.
It’s a baby bear.
Awwwwww! How cute. Look at it’s little feet. It’s adorable little face. It’s not much bigger than Oliver. Well isn’t that sweet.
Wait.
Wait. No.
Fuck.
No.
If that’s a baby, then where’s mama? No baby that young is gonna wandering around foraging without mama.
Shiiiiiit.
(Note: doggos not only excited at this point, but are also past due for their nightly pees and poops, and are more than a little agitated over this.)
Alright well, this should be interesting.
Return to downstairs window. This one looking out into the side yard. Shit! The chickens!
Flashlight illuminates the barn. Then the shed. The chicken coop in between. Whew! Chickens still safe and sound. Now there’s noise from the black walnut trees along the creek. Huh? Highlight the base of the trees. Nothing. The sound of scurrying. Bark shredding. Twigs snapping.
Another baby! Two baby bears! Still no mama though…
What do we do? Call animal control? No. Fire the gun? No, not yet. Close windows? Yes! Probably a good idea. Perfect height for a bear to come in should they please. Alright windows closed. Hmmm. What to do now?…
I need another beer. Beer acquired.
Well, fuck it. Take a seat on the floor by the window. Lights out. Beer in hand. Renee by my side. Dogs surrounding us in a guarded, primeval sort of way. Huddled together around the fire (flashlight) to protect each other from the terrors in the night. For the next 20 minutes, it’s a free nature show. We got front row seats. The baby in the front yard pear tree comes running around the side of the house through the yard to join its sibling.
Still no mama though…
Dogs are calm now. Oliver is intensely staring. Chin rested on the window frame. Staring out into the night. Orion is huddled back some. Lying down behind us. There’s now a back and forth call. Baby mews (I swear it sounded like “maaaawww! maawwww!”) A return call bellows forth from the pitch black forest across the creek. The return call is guttural. Beyond guttural. The sound of death for anyone who dare fuck around. This goes on for a few minutes.
And there she is. Big ol’ mama bear. ~200 pounds, though that’s a total guess. Like a really big Tibetan Mastiff, but much larger. She starts stalking the backyard. Beautiful. Terrifying. But beautiful.
What to do though? We can’t have them coming and going as they please. This is a human settlement, damnit! And we certainly can’t have them near our chickens. Wait, do bears even eat chicken? Fuck it, don’t want to find out. We wait a little longer, it’s their land, too, I suppose. Then comes a scratching on porch sound. What? Aww fuck, mama is on the deck now. Can’t have that. Alright, it’s time to go.
Commence Operation Skadattle. Flashing porch lights. Flashlight shaken wildly. Whistling. Banging. Yelling (all from inside the house, cause we ain’t suicidal.) Minor panic ensues, for both parties. Two baby bears slide down the tree. Meet mama, and run across creek. All is well. Things go quiet.
And then, the calls begin again. What the hell?! Oh shit. There’s a (third!) baby, still ~15 ft. up the dead walnut tree. Well shit. Dogs start getting agitated. No, be quiet! Bark and it’ll only run up higher in the tree! Dogs agitation is quelled. Mama bear returns from the darkness.
She approaches the base of the tree and begins calling out to her baby. (Can’t help but imagine: “You get down here right this instant! Don’t make me tell you again!”) The baby struggles (sooo small!). Gets to about 6-7 feet off the ground, and stops, can’t seem to work up the nerve to make it the last little bit. Mama getting nervous. Continues to scold (encourage?) the baby. Mama bear jumps up on her hind legs and stretches to reach baby in tree. Leans on the tree and provides some support (emotional and physical it seems) to baby. Baby works up the courage and makes it down the last little bit of the tree, and they’re off.
The sound of snapping twigs fades into the darkness across the creek. All goes quiet.
Our visitors are gone. A combination of elation, excitement, nervousness, and a bit of sadness pervades. Our first encounter with bears.
I love living out here.