Bears in the ‘Hood

The other night, I was headed out to run some errands when I passed four hunters with a truck full of dogs and radio antennas. This seemed strange to me, because it looked like a bear hunting set up, and there are bears in Paradise, but I figured even our rural little neighborhood was a little domestic for bear habitat, especially since we are a stone’s throw from a National Park.

Not only did I acquire some disturbing information, I provided the hunters with some major entertainment.

“What are ya’ll hunting?”
“Bear.”
“Bear? Here?”
*grins and giggles from the hunters*
“Oh, yes, ma’am.”
“There are bears here? Should I not be letting my cats roam at night?”
*roaring laughter from the hunters*
“Naw, just don’t feed ’em [the bears] and you won’t have any problem.”
“So, where are these bears?”
*points at the ridge than runs up from the end of my street*
“They all done run up there, right now.”
“My husband wants me to go hiking up there!”
*snorting and stunted laughter from the hunters*

Yeah. So, there are bears in my backyard. I love bears, I’ve seen two live bears in my whole life. One was crossing the road in front of us on one of our weekend jaunts. It was great- we were in the truck and the bear wasn’t. The second time, a mama bear and two of her cubs wandered into our apartment complex our first spring in Paradise. She was down by the mailbox hut, and we were on our second floor balcony. It was great. Seeing a bear on a trail or at the top of a rocky outcropping during a picnic? Not. so. great.

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One Response

  1. Oh, those hunters must have had too much beer. It just isn’t polite to laugh at reasonable questions.
    Hope the bears stay far away from your domicile.

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