Wednesday evening, Michelle called upstairs, “There’s a bear on the beach!”
Aly and I clattered down the stairs to join her in our bedroom, where she watched out the window. Across the garden, we could see a young brown bear wandering down our beach toward the cabin.
We’re coming up on 11 years residence here on the homestead. In that time, we’ve seen evidence of bears on the property (see Bears in the City and Bear Busted). We’ve seen bears on the bay once or twice. Never, until now, have we actually seen a bear on our property.
The encounter didn’t last long. I went out, armed with my rifle, and yelled at it. It took off in a hurry, too fast for Aly to get any photos.
Unless acclimated to humans, bears tend to be extremely shy. I hope my yelling, and the few blasts on an air horn that followed, discouraged this bear from coming around here again. We’ll be on high alert for a while at least.
Our peninsula doesn’t offer much to bears, other than the meadow at the top of the bay, and everyone’s gardens. That generally means we don’t have many around. However, any bear that gets pushed into this territory by other, older and stronger bears, could grow desperate, and try just about anything to get by.
Hopefully, this one will wander to places that offer better forage, and leave our stuff alone.
On further reflection, it’s entirely possible that this bear has been here before. It appeared to be young, but its mother may have brought it along the same route it pursued. It could have visited every evening this year, and last year as well, without us knowing it. We have always known that bears are around; their presence has always factored into our movements. We now merely have confirmation of the fact. It’s amazing how that sets the hair on end . . . .