Living in the mountains, we have a chance to interact with the wildlife at times. From the Blue Jays to the Humming birds. From the Racoons to the Squirrels and the little Chipmunks. We also have a Bobcat that shows up periodically. A lot of Coyotes wander these mountains, and altho not my favorite they have a right to live here too, I guess. But the scariest of all are the bears. We have had a lot of interactions with the bears over the years, mostly with me screaming at them. But the most recent was just a few days ago, I was resting, think about falling asleep, till I heard a commotion at the kitchen door and a clattering, something falling. I got up to investigate and David said a bear had tried to open the screen door and come in the kitchen where there was lucious pizza remnants on the counter. He only succeeded in loosening the pet guard on the door. David chased him off before he could do any more damage.
One time a bear noticed our car window was open a mite, just enough to get a few bear claws through and with a little pull the whole window would crumble, and well there might be food inside. There was only pretzels, which he strung all over the car and on the ground. When I went out to get in the car and go to the market, it took a second to realize what all the pretzels and glass were doing all over the ground. But I soon realized the truth of the situation.
Usually my interactions with our resident bears starts and ends with me screaming. Sometimes hysterically and always loudly.
Well, whats a person to do, when you wake up at 6am, and a Big Bear is looking at you over the tops of your feet. Well he was just walking by on his way to the kitchen. In my deep slumber, I had dreamed someone was fiddlin' with the bedroom screen door going out to the deck. Well someone was – Mr Bear- and when I saw him, I screamed, and screamed. And screamed again. Yelling 'Get outta here,' with as forceful a demeanor as I could muster, shaky as I was. He stopped and looked at me and I could see in his eyes, 'But lady, stop yelling. I just need breakfast.' And he kept walking to the kitchen. I screamed louder, if possible. NO,NO, I SAID, GET OUTTA HERE.' He sighed and gave up, thinking,( I know,) 'Good Grief, I can't stand to hear screaming.' So he slowly turned around, giving me a dirty look as his face passed within inches of my feet. Feet that I hastily drew up closer to my body. He left our room, and our house and went somewhere more hospitable. Thank God.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
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