My wife dropped a hint last Sunday at breakfast. “Maybe you
should check the camera traps this morning so we can get to the restaurant on
time.”
I got the message. It was our 50th wedding
anniversary.
It was a little after 8:00 when I finished packing my rucksack,
and that’s when I remembered that the only time I ever walked up on a bear was about
this time in the morning.
It was a harmless amusement – I could hear mother bear high-tailing
it down the slope and splashing across the creek, while her 2 cubs set a record
descending a big old Douglas fir. I can still see them backlit in a haze of
falling bark and dust. No way were they going to be left behind.
But fate can be ironic, and a fleeting thought -- “Bear mauls senior citizen on 50th
wedding anniversary” -- cautioned me to take the bear spray (a birthday
gift from my younger daughter).
And how many times has someone pulled their bear spray
trigger, found the canister empty, and
witnessed their deliverance in painfully
surreal slow motion?
I pulled the trigger guard and squeezed ever so briefly . .
. WOW!
The pepper cloud followed us into the kitchen with the cool
air that funnels through the screen door in the morning.
Suddenly the redhead appeared, “What’s that smell? We’re
being gassed!”
“I just tested the bear spray, Sweetie, and it works!” I
coughed, “It’s not really THAT bad (cough).
She hurried off to get a dust mask, and I decided it was
time to make our exit.
The rest of the day was a charm. We encountered no bears, arrived at the restaurant on time, and recounted our bear spray episode for family
entertainment.
“He hasn’t changed a bit in 50 years,” said the redhead.
"I’m lucky she still likes me," said the codger.
