Friday, July 5, 2013

Bearing my soul?

Hi! Welcome. Shortly after I took this picture of an angry, red sun rising behind the trees, I went back across the road, up the driveway and into the house. I then filled the front bird feeder, went back outside and hung it up. About the time I was doing all of this, the neighborhood black bear (not full grown, more than a cub) was casually sauntering along the north side of the house, apparently making his/her rounds (gender unknown) looking for errant trash cans (ours are in the garage) and bird feeders (see above). As I grabbed the camera, "Bearly There" [like that name?] wandered through the side yard and stopped to check out the compost heap. I'm guessing coffee grounds and corn husks didn't offer much appeal. There's no photo of the bear because the compost heap is screened from the house by a number of trees and I wasn't passionate enough about getting Bearly's picture to go down the deck stairs and get closer so I could get a clear shot. Having spent most of my adult life as a rugged outdoors person hunter/fisher, my next most immediate thought was: "I need [not want, need] a bear-size caliber handgun for protection." Si-Si and I could have been attacked while on our morning constitutional. I then pictured clearly what the scene would look like as I tried to quickly extract a handgun from its holster [either on my hip or in my armpit] while faced with a charging bear and a panicking Si-Si. I followed that with the scenario of taking out the bird feeder while "packing" and the bear comes around the corner of the house, all of 15 or 20 feet away. If you've ever seen a Keystone Cops or Marx Brothers movie... So, maybe I should hang a couple of pots together from Si-Si's collar so they can bang together and scare Bearly (only one? unknown) away. Maybe I'll try some of the ideas on this bear smart web site. Since I'm still working on whether a black bear is one of my totem animals, I don't want to limit myself to options that may be terminal for the bear, Si-Si or me. In fact, I think it's time to put thoughts of bears in the context of these questions from Mary Oliver.
THE MOTH, THE MOUNTAINS,
THE RIVERS
Who can guess the luna's sadness who lives so
briefly? Who can guess the impatience of stone
longing to be ground down, to be part again of
something livelier? Who can imagine in what
heaviness the rivers remember their original
clarity?

Strange questions, yet I have spent worthwhile
time with them. And I suggest then to you also,
that your spirit grow in curiosity, that your life
be richer than it is, that you bow to the earth as
you feel how it actually is, that we--so clever, and
ambitious, and selfish, and unrestrained--are only
one design of the moving, the vivacious many.
 Thanks for listening. Come again when you can. Rants, raves and reflections served here daily.