True story. As in really not embellished for dramatic effect.
Just outside the cabin in the woods sits a large heavy plastic lidded bin, in which we store large bags of dog food and cat litter and associated beasty sundries. When we returned home last evening, we noticed the lid to the bin was open, and a newly opened 20 pound bag of dog food was sitting, partially snacked, about twenty feet away from where it belonged.
Sven is working out of town, so it’s just us girls. We gave him a call to announce our suspicion, and he confirmed that it was probably a bear.
We’re not too spooked of black bears around here. We know about them: they’re spooky, afraid of us, rarely aggressive. So we phoned the neighbor who manages the property up the hill, to see if he’d spotted any. Oh yes, he says, it was probably a mother and her two cubs; he’s seen them a few times at the edge of the field that divides our property from theirs. He continues that he has a bear tag that I can use, should I feel like picking them off.
We are, actually, spooked of mother bears protecting cubs. We may also BE a mother protecting our cub, and experience the profoundest simpatico and soulja sister solidarity at the thought, but we’d rather not indulge a contest of who can claw through whose flesh the more effortlessly.
Also, I’m not particularly interested in picking them off. Soulja sister solidarity etc.
So The Gypsy went to bed and I lie around silently losing my shit, until I heard them again, at around a quarter of five in the morning. The dot, being a generally good dog despite her best efforts, scared them off. I woke up today to find the bin overturned and the garbage hauled off for us. Nice bears.
And then, of course, today happened to be the day the Jeep’s four-wheel-drive decided to belly-up, so we had to hike up the bear-infested mountain, after dark, spooked out of our very selves, or at least I was all jumpy and screechy the entire trek up, which The Gypsy, safely cocooned in her backpack, found wildly amusing. So much so that she treated the rest of the evening like a Delta Gamma pledge honoring the puntily threatening letter of her senior sorority sister, which is to say, half-clothed and half-pajamed, belly and undergarments out, with a headlight around her neck and nose-deep in a box of tampons (erm, new).
I’m going to stand her outside tonight as a bearcrow and get some good sleep.