Bear Hunt in New Jersey

New Jersey has approved a black bear hunt for December west of 287 and north of Route 80. That is my backyard. I flipped open the paper to finish reading the article. Having a bear hunt has been a controversial subject since the last hunt in 2005. There are many people for and against. It has turned into one of those taboo topics like a politics and religion. I worry about the cubs and fear the horror stories I heard back in '05. We'll see, I suppose.

Bears Do Know What's in the Can

While I was chatting with Sissy this morning on the phone, a black bear sauntered into the backyard heading straight to where I hang the bird feeders in winter. It must be the same one that has chewed on my feeders in the past. By the time I grabbed my camera, it had moved on. The odd thing was that it was 9 am, late for bears to be about.

Then on my way home from the market this afternoon, I saw one making a beeline to a bear can on the side of the road a few block from the house. The bear reared up and pushed it over and was rolling it around. I inched up in the car and took this picture through the open passenger side window. What you can't see is that the bear was panting, it was noon on a hot summer day, why is this guy not holed up somewhere out of the heat?

Bear in the Backyard

I keep telling everyone that I live in bear country and that they stroll through the backyard often. Well for all you non-believers out there, here ya go. I actually had the camera handy this time.

The rumors are true--we have bears

You hear rumors, you know. At this time of year everyone up here on the mountain gossips about them. I hear it at the grocery store while I dawdle in the vegetable section. The neighbor crosses the road as I work in the flowerbeds to tell me what he has heard. Emails fly around too. Someone always knows someone who…. But when it hits the paper, with photos, you know there is something to the story.

Last week a 726-pound black bear was trapped a few miles down the mountain from my house. The local residents complained because someone over there was feeding them. Fish and Game tranked, weighed and released him. One article said they treated a nose injury while another said he was “aversely conditioned” to discourage him from returning to the area for food. What does that mean? Was he admonished severely with a shaken finger; spanked; shot with rubber bullets as he staggered away? Why all the fuss about this bear? His size. Most of our bears are teen-bears 250-300 pounds. At over 700 pounds, he was a big’in and therefore presumably scarier. (I saw a 800 pounder over on Gould Road a few years ago that was soooo big, his belly was almost dragging the ground. Truly a sight to behold—from the safety of the car.)

There are flyers and signs everywhere to remind us about how to live in “bear country”. The free weekly paper publishes helpful tips every spring. Nowhere does it say feeding the bears is OK. In fact there are laws against it. There is a concerted effort to minimize contact. We have all been issued 2 special screw-top heavy plastic “bearcans” to use for garbage and advised not to put it out the night before pick-up. We are told to be aware of our surrounding and not to be stupid. But apparently some people are.

It is hard to forget that we are part of their world and not the reverse when they amble through our backyards or take the path of least resistance and stroll down the street. I have them in my yard not infrequently at dawn and dusk. They have destroyed numerous birdfeeders when I have forgotten to bring them in. They have pooped in my yard, drank from my birdbaths and scared the bejezzus out of me when I come down to the kitchen and find one looking in the window.

Yes, I live in bear county. I am careful when I am outside. I make noise so they know I am around. I do not compost my veggie parings, although it kills me to throw them out. I have made adjustments.

I love to see them and stare with hushed awe as black on black one materializes in the gloom to cut across my lawn nose quivering to go about her day.

Do you see what I see?

I happened to glance out the kitchen window to see one of our big black neighbors. I looked around frantically for the camera (which is always in some other room), remembered it was upstairs in the library, dashed up the stairs, grabbed the camera and pounded back down to see it moving off through the trees. I zoomed and got this lousy shot. But you can see it's a bear, right? Ha! I am vindicated. All you non-believers out there, honestly.

Spring

I have been reading Garrison Keillor's book, Good Poems for Hard Times. I offer you a poem.

Spring by Mary Oliver

Somewhere
a black bear
has just risen from sleep
and is staring

down the mountain.
All night
in the brisk and shallow restlesness
of early spring

I think of her,
her four black fists
flicking the gravel,
her tongue

like a red fire
touching the grass,
the cold water.
There is only one question:

how to love this world.
I think of her
rising
like a black and leafy ledge

to sharpen her claws against
the silence
of the trees
Whatever else

My life is
with its poems
and its music
and its glass cities,

it is also this dazzling darkness
coming
down the mountain,
breathing and tasting;

all day I think of her--
her white teeth,
her wordlessness,
her perfect love.