When I look into his face
I wonder
what he is thinking
as he loses himself
in sweet mountain mist.
He’s alone now.
His fear of the unknown
keeps him vigilant
ears erect,
mouth tasting air
standing on two legs to see
beyond summer’s diaphanous veil.
No wonder he climbs trees.
He’s not yet two.
Did she warn him
about the others
before she left?
Two legged threats armed
with hatred,
the need to destroy life
men addicted to power,
who will gladly spew fire
through his gut,
strike out an eye, maim a paw
so he cannot flee?
He slaps at chipmunks
in repose,
scents fragrant white lilacs
clasps a metal can to his belly,
kicks it down the hill in play.
He bounds
towards the brook
for a bath,
circles back for protection
takes a nap
in a thicket of
young pines.
He tolerates me
if not as friend
at least as one
who wishes him
no harm.
He peers around
rough bark like a child
playing hide and seek.
He’s curious to identify
to whom I am speaking.
He listens intently
when I caution him
like an anxious mother.
Do not trust.
Do not trust them.
I am the exception
to the rule.
Most want him dead
Skinned and hung –
a furry black skeleton –
a shroud on the wall,
his jaws forever frozen
in an impossible roar.
Always present,
Death stands at his door.
Working Notes:
Black bears are much maligned and when one befriends one it is hard to understand why these animals are so feared. They evolved with trees as a prey animal and remain this way today. In truth they are immensely curious and shy animals and the hardest part of trying to study them in the wild is finding one who will tolerate my presence.
Early in the spring the young – yearlings – are tolerant of me, but by this time of year they have had enough terrifying experiences with the men around here to turn them into “night bears”. They no longer trust me.
In between there are moments of grace. TB loves to smell lilac blossoms, and gets irritable when brazen chipmunks or mice wish to share his food. He loves rubber balls but punctures them immediately. He plays with sticks and pulls tree branches up on his belly, plays hide and seek with me.
Although the transition from day to night bears signifies the negative experiences these animals have had with others – around here – men who use semi-automatic blasts to terrify and wound them illegally – and hunting season draws near, I have at least had moments that we shared in peace, and for that I must be grateful.
(Meet Mago Contributor) Sara Wright.