Yesterday I took my walk as usual; what wasn't usual was the black bear that I saw just a few yards from me. I should say, this kind of bear sighting isn't usual for me; this time of year, in this part of the North Carolina mountains near Asheville, bear sightings aren't unusual at all. In fact, it's becoming a bit too routine for comfort.
I say that, not as someone who is scared that a black bear would attack me. They don't usually do that, unless someone gets between a mother and cub(s). I do worry that we're all getting too used to each other; I worry about the loss of wilderness and wildness.
My house is in the residential section of Lutheridge, a church camp that's on 600 acres of undeveloped land (plus a few acres of developed land), so we're more likely to see the occasional bear than our nearby neighbors who live in much more paved over places. So far, I've seen a bear three times, counting yesterday. On Thursday, I helped my spouse pick up our garbage that a bear spread across the pavement on trash day. We may have thought that the Tzatziki sauce was much too beyond the May pull date to eat, but the bear did not.
In short, I knew that bears have been active, but we've also been active at camp, so I don't worry too much. I try to stay alert, but that's a given for me--how nice it is to be on the lookout for bears and foxes, not for human predators.
Yesterday I was headed up the hill that leads to the chapel, when I saw the bear up ahead crossing the lower road to the chapel. For a brief moment, I thought I was seeing a large dog, but my brain quickly made the connections, and I backed away. Then I stood still, looking around to be sure there wasn't a mother bear nearby; I thought I was seeing a much smaller bear.
I stood watching, expecting the bear to emerge from the brambles closer to the the parking lot at the top of the hill near the chapel. I didn't hear or see any movement at all, so I was surprised when the bear emerged from the undergrowth much closer to me. He stopped and stared at me. I backed away a few steps, and then turned to walk swiftly down the hill. I turned a few times, and he was still staring at me. But finally, I turned, and he was gone.
It was a bigger bear than I thought I had seen, taller, yet also thinner. I had thought I saw a cub whose back was as high as my knee, but this was probably an adolescent bear, with a back up to my waist, but not filled out like a fully grown bear. Of course, this is just me speculating. It could have been an adult bear that needs to bulk up more before hibernation. I did not try to get any closer to be sure. I also didn't have my phone with me, so no pictures.
I kept walking; no need to go racing home, since I wasn't likely to see the bear again. There were people around, including a man with a leaf blower, so I didn't expect to see more wildlife, and indeed, I didn't. My startle response stayed in high gear for a few hours. At one point, I thought I was seeing a bear in the backyard, but it was a car further on beyond the trees.
I am startled, too, in these early days of August, by how much thinner the leaves are. I look out from the deck, and it's still green vastness. But when I look more closely, I can see more of the mountain range than I could just a few weeks ago. The sun is setting in a different spot. There is a seasonal shift, for those of us paying attention.
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