I will miss this house. Aside from the recently realized fact that it’s the building where I’ve hung my hat longest in my life, (15 solid years), it’s also the place where I’ve had the greatest number of incidental interactions with wildlife.
From the first spring in 2002 where I woke in the night to an odd noise that took some time to realize was made by one of the local elk herd, on their monthly swing through the area, using the
the corner of the house to scratch an itch; to the three springs in a row where a spotted skunk, (much smaller than the striped variety and thus much harder to fence out) decided our crawlspace (more or less under my room ::sigh::), was a perfect welping den for her totally adorable babies.
The cats eventually learned to not confront them, finally realizing that — They. Didn’t. Back. Down. They issued one stomp in warning, then they just fired, (sometimes arched up and walking forward on just their ‘hands’ to do so. Made them look bigger, I guess, but not more dignified).
Anyway, I had taken a break from packing Saturday night to sit & watch Dr Lucien Blake wending his way though an Aussie mystery for a while when I caught something out of the corner of my eye. Dark with claws in the lower corner of my window. Much like the title pic.
I glanced over, thinking one of the outdoor cats was contemplating illicit entry, and went back to watching the television. But something niggled at me. Wasn’t quite right.
Scale, that was it, the scale was off.
Turning my head to to get a better look- the room was dark except for the tv- I noticed that they were jet black. And large. Robust. Talons, really, not kitty claws.
Three of them in the lower left corner of the open window.
In my best, no nonsense, ‘Dammit, kitty’ voice, I commanded, ‘Out!’
The talons disappeared.
I found myself a little ambivalent then. Yes, I was happy that a single word was all it took to remove them, but the response, while I was looking straight at them, meant that they weren’t a trick of the shadows. They had actually been there. And they were way too big for one of the cats.
Hmmm.
Went back to watching the delicious Dr Blake unwinding this week’s plot, but about 20 minutes later a movement again caught the corner of my eye.
The three talons were back.
With a dog-like nose. And the top of a black, furry muzzle.
I judged this incremental escalation to require a more active response, so I reached over & fished around for the aluminum crutch that lives next to the bed for emergencies.
This time when I ordered the withdrawal I rattled the end of the crutch around the open window frame.
And got up to close the damned window.
I like air circulating, not bears circulating. Turns out I’m a little species-ist that way.
Wish to hell I’d had the presence of mind to grab the phone first and take a pic, the flash might have had enough startle power to have done the job, and OMG, what an awesome keepsake it would have been.
But nope, wasn’t quite that quick off the mark, darn it. ::sigh::
(I do have to admit that I did consider partly reopening the window and trying for that pic, but the boring, responsible, grown up in me prevailed and left well enough alone)
What was odd, well, odd-er, was that every time I thought of the image of that paw-tip & nose in the corner of my window, disappearing on command, I laughed. I’m still smiling thinking about it.
I couldn’t really understand why the image tickled me so, but it did. Seemed like it might not be a totally appropriate response, somehow.
In case you’re thinking I was taking this too, too casually, understand that this wasn’t a sliding glass door partly open, it was my bedroom window, almost six feet off the outside ground, so while I have no doubt it could have clambered in, it would have taken an awkward and confined scramble to manage, not a charge, so I wasn’t in immediate danger.
The nose is about the least armored and most sensitive part of a bear’s anatomy, so the threat of whacking it with an adrenaline fueled club was a fair sized equalizer.
And black bears, unless already pissed off, really hungry or defending offspring, (or a good meal), tend to...
They’re not generally terribly brave, unlike brown bears, (grizzlies), whose view on their territory is that it’s wherever they happen to be standing, and against all comers.
But my response was still amusement. Puzzling.
I’ve got a lot of mileage, and I’ve learned to trust my instincts over the years to get me through whatever pops up, (and, you know, so far, so good), but often I have to go back later and figure out what rationale my subconscious was working from, because even though things tended to work out well enough, sometimes my initial reactions seemed not to make the best sense.
And my subconscious has a decidedly odd sense of humor, though admittedly it hasn’t gotten me killed yet.
I figure these after-action perusals help inform and fine tune my subconscious for whatever comes down the pike next. And lets the rest of me learn whatever other lessons I can glean.
So it was hours later, after I’d closed up & left for the night and cocooned myself in the securely locked Subaru, (which itself carried the remembrance of another bear encounter last summer), that I kind of got a handle on it.
The bear hadn’t been aggressive or threatening. Come right down to it, it left the impression of just catching my attention enough to say, ‘Uh, s’cuse me, were you going to finish that? I also like (outdated) chicken ravioli with spinach.’
That’s what had tickled me, Bre’r Bear hadn’t been the least bit rude or unmannerly. Thinking back it almost made me feel as though I’d maybe been a tad abrupt and inhospitable,
(and that, my friends, is grade A-1 snark: One should Never. Feed. Bears. Period. Grizzlies or cute little blackies. Because even though they tend to give ground, they can change their minds. And yeah, ok, if one is moving towards you at speed and all you have is a sandwich to throw at it , go ahead, every rule has an exception, but short of that- don’t).
When I got back the next morning, he had apparently felt significantly less diffident when there was no longer anyone there to warn him off investigating.
It’s no great loss, we’re the last people the place was ever going to shelter, it’s being torn down by whoever ends up with it. And I’m grateful that the local bear population waited this long to come calling, since the back side of the place is overhung by trees and nestled right up in the woods..
Who knows, maybe they have a bid in & he wanted to measure for drapes.