Bear Tale

“What is it, Lupin?”

The silver fur of his topline was standing on end as he furiously sniffed the air, head raised, nostrils flaring. I knew whatever scent had captured his intrigue wasn’t the usual deer that he joyously chases on our hikes here. This was something different. I leashed him up out of caution but carried on without too much concern.

He pranced alongside me tracking this curious smell, autumn's cacophony of crunching leaves shattering the stark stillness of the forest. It was nearly dusk and despite a distinct chill in the air, the fading sunlight cast a warm glow through the treetops. Subtle hues of orange and red were set ablaze. The moment felt sacred, a blessing to be the only two souls here witnessing the spectacular display of nature’s shifting seasons.

This is the magic of nature, I thought to myself. I was lost in blissful awe.

Suddenly I felt the leash go taut, snapping me out of my meditative musings. Lupin had firmly planted his paws, hackles still raised, as he stared into the forest. He was now a statue, his sights focused on something that I could not yet find with my own eyes.

Then, I too became a statue.

Not more than 15 feet from the trail’s edge, an imposing oak tree did little to hide the jet-black outline of a bear, standing upright just behind the thick trunk. One massive dark paw wrapped halfway around the circumference of the huge tree, giving away its hiding spot. Two perfectly round black ears appeared as the bear peeked out to look back at us.

My heart pounded as I scanned the area for cubs. The quiet peace of the forest was suddenly deafening as my mind raced through everything I had learned to do during such an encounter. I was bracing myself for Lupin to engage, to growl, to lunge forward. What if this bear stands its ground? What if the bear is the first to engage?

A surge of adrenaline halted time as I tried to objectively assess this situation. I looked down at Lupin, trying to gauge his energy. It was then that I realized maybe, just maybe, I didn’t need to do anything at all.

Lupin had lowered his hackles, though his little nose was still pulsing with excitement. He didn’t make a sound. He didn’t move. He and the bear locked eyes and froze, two animals transfixed, just trying to make sense of each other.

I gently tugged Lupin’s leash as I took a cautious step backwards. He finally broke his gaze with this wild creature to look directly into my eyes. His tail dropped low and wagged a slow wag. I felt a rush of reassurance.

“Good boy, it’s ok,” I murmured to Lupin. “Good bear, it’s ok, we’re just passing though.”

The tension that had seized Lupin’s body seemed to ease. I took a few more steps backwards, still watching in anticipation of some reaction. The bear broke its stance, dropping down to all fours only to peer out from the other side of the trunk. It watched us timidly as we gradually increased the distance between us.

A sharp turn in the trail led me and Lupin out of sight of the bear. I believe this is when all three of us finally relaxed. Still, I picked up the pace.

Safely at the trail head, I showered my brave boy Lupin with love and gratitude for his wise, passive approach to the encounter. In my heart and mind, I thanked the bear, too.

I like to think that there was an exchange between these two animals, perhaps some communication on a level we humans will never comprehend. Maybe Lupin understood the bear was trying to hide, that it was not a threat. Perhaps the bear understood that we meant no harm. Maybe it sensed that we, too, were wishing we could hide. Perhaps it was just a stunning example of how nature responds to receiving the respect it deserves.

Whatever I witnessed between those two, it was beautiful. Truly, the magic of nature.