Thursday July 14, 2022 Monday's Makoons.

    With an urge to get outside again before sundown on a beautiful July 11th evening, the sun just then over the tree tops, I stopped west of the house at the basketball hoop stand to look at a repair project I'm working on, when I heard this loud strange crackling noise coming from close by, just opposite my tractor, like somebody squashing a big paper sack.

    And glancing up into the grove of oak trees there, I saw a makoons glancing down at me.

'Makoons' is an Ojibwe word for 'a bear cub.'

    I wasn't afraid. We were far enough apart from one another to avert danger and he/she was much more afraid of me than I was of him/her. I just didn't see it upon my approach in the shadows of the woodlot there and certainly didn't expect to see a bear of all things as I hadn't seen even a bear track on the farm for over a year. 

    I called the wife to tell her that there was a bear in the yard. She is hyper afraid of bears, and while she doesn't wish them harm, she prefers to see them before they see her as they severely limit her walks in the woods all by herself. She got the camera and came out to take some pictures.

    “He looks thirsty,” she said. “He’s foaming at the mouth and making strange noises. Is he all right? Should I fill a bucket with water?”

    “He’s okay. He's panting like a dog’d do. He’s wearing a fur coat you know,” I said. “I suppose I could leave some water near the tree. I've got a bigger pail out here.”

    “How about a couple apples?" she said. “He’s probably hungry too. Who knows when he ate last.”  

    Although knowing the negative results of feeding birds after bears come out of hibernation and taking the feeders down accordingly, we figured a couple apples wouldn't hurt to offer this little guy. It was just then she got the idea that an apple we had put out as bait to live-catch a woodchuck wasn't eaten by the woodchuck that morning, but maybe by this bear!

    I had seen bears several times here in 2020 and in years past. The neighbors nearby had seen a couple bears in 2021, but we had not. Don't know why as we're pretty quiet folk, no kids, no ruckus; in fact, we abound in wildlife of many differing species all year around. 

    We have a 'live and let live' ideology unless they threaten our persons, house, or septic drainfield in which case I'll try to deter them by shouting, making loud noises, or shooting in a safe direction. Other methods involving live-trapping and relocating woodchucks, raccoons, squirrels, and skunks when possible-- or, in rare cases, I may resort to 'other means' as we just can't have that. 

    Bears represent a whole different 'problem' by their size and strength alone, but one that can usually be simply resolved through loud scare tactics as they're usually afraid of human beings; the bears who have lost their fear of humans, being the exception.

    After the initial excitement and all the picture taking, she went back in the house as did I, so the cub could come down and escape. Watching it from the house with binoculars over the course of a half hour or so, Jackie said it was gone, so I started on my evening walk-around again, this time with my pistol in its holster; the sun farther down behind the trees. 

    After looking closely in the woodlot this time to be sure, I looked higher in the tree -- and there was the cub with one of its legs dangling down lazily, cradled in the confluence of three big tree branches.

    I called the wife from the yard again and said, "The bear is still here, thank you very much. You just wanted it to attack me. Lucky I thought to grab my pistol before I came out.”

     By this time she was on the phone with our friend Marion, and had come outdoors to verify my second sighting. 

    “Well, it looked gone to me,” she said, as Marion listened to the play by play. "You be careful if it comes down and charges you.”   
     “Hey, remember," I said. “I don’t have to outrun the bear. I only have to outrun you!”

    I wasn’t afraid of it; I know bears somewhat. This was just a cub, a smaller than adult bear, so I looked pretty closely for its mother but didn’t see her. It was strange that the cub was all by itself. What had happened?

    Jackie confirmed the bear was finally gone, even going as far as the end of the sidewalk to look up and down the tree with the binoculars. So I went out later carrying my pistol again (A 22-magnum, really no more than a great noise maker). I figured the cub would head into the wind, away from the house, but I wasn't sure where it left the yard. 

    Giving but a few seconds thought to possible pictures, I hung my camera around my neck and tucked it just inside my jacket so it didn’t flop against my chest as I walked. I started toward the creek, making a large swing northeast a couple hundred yards, then walked gradually west through the woods back toward our house.

    Looking through the trees and underbrush as I walked, off to my left about 25 fee and almost completely hidden, I saw the bear just as it saw me then turned my way. I drew my gun and clicked off the safety as he whirled back around -- and jumped about three feet onto the nearest tree like a monkey, and climbed to a safe vantage point where it stopped in its fright and looked back over its shoulder at obviously an intimidating character of the Old West. 

An intimidation tactic of the Old West (works on bears too.)

    

    I didn't shoot. There was no point. Watching the bear, I went for the cellphone in the pocket of my jeans to take its picture. Acknowledging its absence, I swore, never giving a thought to the digital camera I had around my neck for that very purpose until I was almost home!

    After giving it a talk on the serious ramifications of future human contact with people other than my wife and I, I just turned my back on the critter. I don’t suppose I did it any favors by not shooting and scaring it but it was such a quiet time of evening and so pretty back where we met up, that after talking to 'makwa', I just walked on home.