Bears Will Be Bears

©2013 Ken W. Hall

©2013 Ken W. Hall

Monday evening I got home from picking up dinner take out. When I returned home my friend Wade Miller was in my living room talking with Penny. As I entered the house he turned his attention to me. "Do want some bear pictures?" was his greeting.

Funny he should ask I thought to myself. Earlier today, in the morning, I went to his house to retrieve some apples. While walking to some trees that have a bounty Wade spoke, "You can come out any time but if it's after dark better bring your bear spray." I replied, "I feel like I need it now, there is one in the area. I can feel it! You say there is one in Jeffers but have you seen it?"

Then came his visit at dinner time. The only way I could reply to his invite to get bear images was, "I'll meet there in twenty minutes." With that the "safari" commenced.

When I arrived in Jeffers Wade came out and we set to meet Mr. Bruin. Was it a juvenile or an adult? Subsequent steps across the road to a large stand of old cottonwoods quickly eliminated one of the choices. The bear had passed juvenile seasons in thru past seasons. The bear the bear was settled in the fork of the giant cottonwoods waiting for the cloak of the fast rising of evening. Under the shadows of darkness the bruin could satisfy the gluten of fast arriving fall and an impending hibernation thru winter. Food was calling and the bear was listening.

After surveying the situation I picked my initial camera angle, made some test exposures and took a deep breath. Show time! The curtain went up and the camera began to sing. After a dozen or so images I chose to alter the angle of view for another series of exposures. This change gave me another wonderful angle of view, a view that was acceptable only to me, not the bruin. It began to utter guttural sounds rumbling from unknown centuries of programming. A warning, one observer to the other that enough is enough. The bear unscrewed itself from the confines of the aforementioned fork where had waited for darkness. The altering of its viewpoint of me had a specific intent and the intent was to let me know, one participant to the other, things were changing and changing in quick succession. The modeling session was over and whatever i had captured was all there was going to be, at least without putting myself in the crosshairs of the the bear. The decision was simple for me since I was the one who stood the largest chance of physical change and possible rearrangement of my body.

"Adios, and thank you for allowing us to come eye to eye with each other for this time and to experience our divine creation. You enjoy you apples and a long winter's nap. Who knows, if you be a mother, I would love to meet you and your cubs next summer. You will likely remember our time together so why wouldn't you share the story with the little ones. Tell them honest and favorable tales of Uncle Ken and the whirring sounds of his camera and a sincere donation to posterity."

We fear bears because of  because of stories of bears, some horrific. Then there are the "Winnie The Poo" ones, gentle and childlike. Both transfix our senses and spawn a primal urge to tell stories. This is my story, what is your's?"

Ken W. Hall

September 10, 2013

Ennis, Montana