the bear story (part five)

I waited, heart pounding, for what seemed like an eternity before the noises finally picked up again. For a while, it was unclear as to which direction they were going, and, after one particularly long pause, I almost breathed a sigh of relief, thinking the worst was over.

But then I heard a breaking of branches from very close indeed, followed by the unmistakable sound of entrance into the water.

They were coming through the bog.

A million voices went through my head at once, all shouting conflicting directions, and I found myself running toward the noises, into the woods where my tarp was located.

I scrambled to create shelter for myself; after all, Sparrow had told us a story about a dim-witted moose almost walking over him in the darkness. I didn’t want to chance a whole family of them coming upon me, only to startle them at the last second.

So I took a low stance beneath my tarp, crouching with bated breath, but as the noises came closer still I decided to stand between three neighboring trees, pulling my sleeping bag around me for extra protection.

Now all I could do was wait- wait as the noises got louder and louder, came closer and closer… chomping, chewing, loud breathing…

now they had reached the beaver ponds, were bathing themselves from the sound of it… chomp, chew, splash, slurp…

I couldn’t believe that this was actually happening, that I was here, out in the woods, at the farthest possible point away from everyone else on the quest, with my one path to safety being blocked by hungry and rapidly approaching wild animals.

By now they were almost on top of me. I didn’t know what to do.

Make noise? Jump around, flash my light in their eyes? Scream? Pray? Play dead?

I realized I was only 50% sure that they were moose, but right now I didn’t want to consider the other possibilities.

I decided to enact what I felt might be a kind of all-encompassing warding off tactic: I turned on my flashlight, shined it at my feet, and said in a low but firm voice; “I’m right here. Don’t come any closer!”

The chewing stopped for a moment, and I seized the opportunity to be a little more frank, “In fact, please just go away.”

I’d said it. They knew where I stood. For a second I envisioned the environment, the animals and I being in perfect symbiosis; them somehow understanding that I, a sister animal, was temporarily dwelling in this sacred spot, and I needed to be left alone to complete my rite of passage. They had paid me a visit, and now they would respectfully, and swiftly, retreat. Right?

Of course not. The chewing started up again, and moved closer, into the clearing where I had held so many of my half-hearted rituals over the past four days.

That’s about the time that I realized that if it were moose, they would be taller than the bushes that separated me from the clearing. Therefore, I would be able to see their outline in front of the moon.

But I didn’t, which led me to draw several conclusions very quickly. Whatever these things were, they were smaller than a moose, bigger than a beaver, and made as much noise as a Very Large Animal. They were nocturnal. They were feeding on berries. And they weren’t scared of my voice.

I decided to get the hell out of there.