When I look into his face
I wonder
what he is thinking
as he loses himself
in sweet mountain mist.
He’s alone now.
His fear of the unknown
keeps him vigilant
ears erect,
mouth tasting air
standing on two legs to see
beyond summer’s diaphanous veil.
No wonder he climbs trees.
He’s not yet two.
Did she warn him
about the others
before she left?
Two legged threats armed
with hatred,
the need to destroy life
men addicted to power,
who will gladly spew fire
through his gut,
strike out an eye, maim a paw
so he cannot flee?
He slaps at chipmunks
in repose,
scents fragrant white lilacs
clasps a metal can to his belly,
kicks it down the hill in play.
He bounds
towards the brook
for a bath,
circles back for protection
takes a nap
in a thicket of
young pines.
He tolerates me
if not as friend
at least as one
who wishes him
no harm.
He peers around
rough bark like a child
playing hide and seek.
He’s curious to identify
to whom I am speaking.
He listens intently
when I caution him
like an anxious mother.
Do not trust.
Do not trust them.
I am the exception
to the rule.
Most want him dead
Skinned and hung –
a furry black skeleton –
a shroud on the wall,
his jaws forever frozen
in an impossible roar.
Always present,
Death stands at his door.
Working Notes:
Black bears are much maligned and when one befriends one it is hard to understand why these animals are so feared. They evolved with trees as a prey animal and remain this way today. In truth they are immensely curious and shy animals and the hardest part of trying to study them in the wild is finding one who will tolerate my presence.
Early in the spring the young – yearlings – are tolerant of me, but by this time of year they have had enough terrifying experiences with the men around here to turn them into “night bears”. They no longer trust me.
In between there are moments of grace. TB loves to smell lilac blossoms, and gets irritable when brazen chipmunks or mice wish to share his food. He loves rubber balls but punctures them immediately. He plays with sticks and pulls tree branches up on his belly, plays hide and seek with me.
Although the transition from day to night bears signifies the negative experiences these animals have had with others – around here – men who use semi-automatic blasts to terrify and wound them illegally – and hunting season draws near, I have at least had moments that we shared in peace, and for that I must be grateful.
**This is Part Two of a two piece series see Part One here.
Sara is a naturalist, ethologist ( a person who studies animals in their natural habitats) (former) Jungian Pattern Analyst, and a writer. She publishes her work regularly in a number of different venues and is presently living in Northern New Mexico.
feminismandreligion.com 
tears
may he survive!
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Oh, that’s my hope too Carol… but these days its almost impossible to be a bear…
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He is gorgeous. Thank you for sharing him with us.
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Oh I am so glad to share – he is gorgeous!
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I’m glad you’re talking to your friend and he’s listening.I hope the bear survives, too. I hope all bears and other wild things survive. I think hunting for “sport” is stupid-stupid-stupid. Just like the men who put heads and antlers on their walls, trophies of murder. Here in SoCal, people have built their mcmansions in what had been wild places, so the bears and coyotes have to come into people’s neighborhoods to find food. If what I see on the TV news is correct, these visitors are more often tranquilized and carried home than shot.
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Don’t believe them Barbara. State wildlifw agencies routinely lie about killing these animals. I learned this the hard way by becoming state wildlife rehab person. That’s when I learned the truth.
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What a beautiful portrait of Tree Bear. Heart and prayers with you both!
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TB thanks you!
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I’ve never understood the blood lust – the urge to kill an innocent creature. When my husband and I were wildlife rehabilitators we too learned that the game wardens in Maine didn’t care about animals. They just wanted to make sure the animals didn’t pose a threat to humans and that there were enough deer, moose, bears, and turkeys to satisfy the hunters. It is shameful and awful! I hope and pray that Tree Bear survives.
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Oh dear – you know the truth too – the problem is that most people buy in to that save the wildlife myth – every time I see one of their plates on a car i want to throw up. And I write about these organizations hoping to reach more people.
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