Lions and tigers? Well, maybe not, but bears….oh my

A good story can be told so many ways.

My grandmother’s English father would have down played it to the nth degree. “We saw a bit of the bears on that trip.”

My grandfather’s German father would have played it all the way up and if he’d already had a nip, or two, or more, might have said, “The bears were raging all around us. I didn’t know which way to turn.”

I will simply say I saw more bears on my road trip through California than I ever want to see “running freely through the camp” again. I saw them from my Tahoe condo. I heard them from my tent in Yosemite. I watched them on walks in the back country. A three hundred fifty pound mama bear with three cubs is much cuter in the movies, in my humble opinion.

On one hand I was told, “they don’t like noise, turn and walk back exactly the way you came,” and on the other I heard, “join hands to make yourselves look larger, then make lots of noise, but do NOT run. If you feel the need to run, throw the bear your backpack first.” Then they told me what to do if the bear attacks and I wondered how much of that I would remember as its fetid breath breathed down on me and its large claws explored this walking curiosity called woman. It all seemed to conflict. The truth is, bears are animals. Unpredictable and wild just as you might expect if you are reasonably intelligent.

Now I live in the Smokey Mountains and we still have those cute not so little black bears. Not as good at breaking into cars as those in Yosemite, they have still been known to climb twenty feet up on to patio decks to play with the bird seed. Bears are like large nosey children who come equipped with sharp teeth and long claws that can open car doors as easily as I do a can of soup. Except that these children don’t necessarily mind and there is no way this mama is going to spank that big furry behind.

Fascinating? Cool? Yes! Teddy bears? Absolutely not!