Sometimes they're really really big.....

George starts it all off. Or at least he did today. And yesterday. 36 hours. Twice in 36 hours his bark, not the loud and persistent bark that announces the arrival of my car, my bike, my feet, but that other one; the deep, aggressive, protective bark, announced the arrival of something much larger. Or not... my car, I suppose, is still larger.

We figure he’s 5 feet tall at the shoulder. Heather, a friend, my teacher assistant, saw him about a week ago and says his eyes are a foot apart. I’m not sure, but his head is probably as long as my torso. Silver and auburn. Tall, thin but not gaunt. He’s been eating well these weeks. Berries, apples, plums and fish. Guess is that he’s 5 or so. Wenda, the woman who owns this cabin and who is still living at the house a hundred feet or so away, says he’s been seen in the valley before. They always knew he’d be a big one.

I’ve never spent enough time living in bear country like this to get to know the animals. I’ve never seen the same animal often enough to differentiate it, known them well enough to tell them apart. This isn’t the black bear I saw my first week in town, not the first grizz I saw either. This one is special. I thought this one was going to climb my stairs. I locked my door and wondered what a deadbolt would do in a door full of glass against a paw as big as my head. I called my neighbours as I stepped outside to call George. Wenda says to stay inside... George will get closer as you call him, as your own danger increases. In order to keep him safe, be sure to keep yourself safe. Oh, the things we learn, oh the things we see. I pray for this bear. I hope we can continue to share our spaces, our homes. I hope my safety isn’t counterintuitive to his. I hope he doesn’t climb my narrow stairs after all. And I’ve set aside any notion of walking and cycling between 5pm and 9am... I guess I’ll be carpooling to school everyday until winter after all. And no late-night meanderings under the stars through the fields amidst the trees either. The things we give up are incomparable to the majesty we earn when living in places such as these.