John and the Bear

There was a clearing in a forest where the echoes of war resonated through the dense surroundings of fog and foliage. John Smith, a man dressed in a tattered brown and blue uniform found himself lost and winded after the lengthily battle of Bull Run. He was a Union soldier, just twenty years old. When he signed up for the army, he was already a year older then when his father signed up.

“Be careful son, don’t get yourself killed for some dang acreage,” his father warned, then spit a wad of thick black chewing tobacco on the ground and gave a half smile to John.

“Thank you, father. I look forward to our correspondence. I’ll write home once a week if I can,” John said and smiled through his thick beard.

“Don’t bother if nuthin interestin’ happens, yah hear, boy,” his father said and half smiled again.

“Fine, if you don’t want to hear from me, I’ll write ma’,” John said in a very serious tone.

“Nah, your old lady don’t want to hear from you neither. Now get,” John’s father said, giving another half smile to John while slowly shaking his fist in the air.

“Fredrick Jedidiah Smith, don’t tell our son not to write us. He should be writing us daily if he can,” John’s mother yelled through the open window of the cabin.

“Thank you Margaret,” Fredrick shouted back.

John and his father cracked up laughing, then gave each other a hug.

“Bye mother,” John yelled through the window. His mother’s arms reached out of the old oaken window frame with peeling white paint and pulled John in for a hug and two kisses, one on each cheek. That was John’s last words with his parents. He’d only had the time to write them one letter, and lamented not being able to write home more often. Shooting at confederate troops all day had kept him busy.

John again thought back to what inspired him to sign up for the army. When the confederates decided to split from the Union, John considered that treason, “disgraceful” his mother called it and spat. So when Lincoln ordered a war to take back the territory that rightfully belonged to them, John was more then happy to volunteer. He signed the army papers excitedly, his eyes ablaze with the fire of duty, vengeance and honor.

He was now in battle, loading his rifle in the fox hole, standing, firing, crouching, reloading and repeating. He wasn’t sure who, if anybody, he was hitting. This time, he stood up and took his time aiming. He pointed his rifle right at a senior looking confederate soldier, sending a bullet flying right past the confederate’s ear. The confederate touched his hand to his ear, looked at it, and saw his hand covered in blood.

“Damn it, I missed,” John mumbled.

But as John was crouching down to avoid fire while he reloaded, he noticed the confederate he shot at had run off into the woods. No time to reload, he thought, and hoisted his rifle on his back. As he entered the woods the enemy soldier ran off into, he took out his military issued Bowie knife. He hiked deeper and deeper into the woods in search of the soldier he shot, but there were no signs of him anywhere, not even a speck of ear blood. The confederate covered his tracks well. His pursuit of the fleeing Confederate soldier had now led him astray. He was lost, adrift in a forest he’d never visited before, and he wasn’t sure if he could find his way back to base. All he could see was towering moss and lichen covered trees. He shivered as he listened to the haunting sounds of bird calls echoing through the woods. He thought he heard a branch break, and shouted “Who’s there? I can hear you. My rifle is loaded, don’t try anything.”

John heard a low growl and thought it best to trudge on, his footsteps crunching leaves every time he took a step forward.

After several hours meandering through the woods looking for his old confederate buddy, he got hungry. So hungry, couldn’t think about anything else as the hunger gnawed at his belly. He would have normally had the patience to hunt for an animal and make a fire to cook it, but exhaustion tugged at his weary limbs. He needed sleep, but he also knew he needed to press forward and find food and water to survive, so he did. He was determined to live.

He was searching for a deer or a rabbit, because he had plenty of experience skinning and cooking them. After a tedious search, the only animal he came across was a bear. He attempted to hide in the bushes, standing perfectly still and praying the bear wouldn’t find him, but the bear sniffed him out anyway and stuck his giant bear nose in Johns hand.

“Hey there, buddy,” John said in a much higher pitched voice then he intended. The bear sniffed him again, grunted and started to walk away.

John thought maybe if he followed the bear, he would be led to other wild animals to hunt. He could only see a deer or a rabbit, the bear could smell them.

John stepped on some dead, dried up leaves which made a crunching sound loud enough for the bear to take notice and turn to John.

“Sorry, buddy, I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’m a friend, I promise,” John said, his hands shaking.

The bear, a massive beast with fur as black as night, stared at John, regarding him with wary, tired looking eyes.

“Hey, boy, you look as tired as I am. We both might need a rest,” John said and extended his hand in an attempt to be friendly.

There was a sparkle of curiosity in the bears eyes, as if the animal sensed a kindred spirit in the man who had lost his way. A bond began to form between them, born from an unspoken understanding. The bear sniffed John’s hand, grunted, and laid down as if he was indifferent.

“Come on, get up, buddy! Let’s go catch ourselves some rabbits,” John said and smiled. With help from his new companion, John managed to catch six rabbits and a deer, and cooked them all. He now had enough food to last a few days.

A few days had passed, and John and the bear used up all their food. They gleefully went hunting again, each one helping the other catch their next meal. Days soon turned into weeks, and John and the bear continued to roam the wilderness together, helping each other survive. The bear would growl when he tracked down a rabbit or deer, and John would shoot it. That is, until he ran out of ammunition. Then he used his hunting knife, sneaking up on the animal before making the kill.

They learned to cooperate so well together, there wasn’t a day that went by that they didn’t have food.

“You know, bear, you need a name,” John said. The bear grunted.

“What do you mean, why? Everyone needs a name!” John moaned. The bear grunted again.

“Yes, I can see you’re not human. But I’m calling you Tim anyway,” John said.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, young man,” John said. The bear grunted and turned around.

As it started to walk away, John shouted, “Ok Tim, I’m sorry. Let’s just start over,” to which Tim the Bear grunted and laid down.

Together, they hunted deer, rabbits, birds, and even a wolf once. Their movements were now synchronized as they closed in on their target, John would wait behind a tree ready to jump the animal and bear would chase the deer or rabbit right to John.

The bear would charge forward, startling the prey, while John bent down and got ready to jump, each thrust of his knife swift and deadly. They always shared the spoils of their victory. John would make a fire and roast the venison over the crackling flames, then he would toss some of the meat to the bear who ate the food eagerly.

John became so comfortable with his new companion, there were nights when he would rest his head against the bear's side, finding comfort in the bears thick fur.

Morning came, and John went down to the creek he had found, which was rushing water faster then usual. He’d undressed and got in. He started to bathe himself and slipped on a wet rock, and he went rushing down the lake.

“Tim, Tim,” he shouted. Tim heard John and went running after him. He saw John in the river and dove in the water. Tim was an incredibly fast swimmer and quickly managed to catch up to John and drag him out of the water. Tim stared at John’s naked body, a naked human being something the bear had not seen before.

“Modesty, Tim. Modesty,” John mumbled while covering his lower extremities. He then started walking back to find his clothes. The bear continued to stare, almost as saying “you’re welcome.” Tim then put his claws in the rushing river and knocked onto land a few salmon. He put them in his mouth and when he eventually caught up to the still nude John, dropped them in front of him.

“How’d you know I love salmon,” John said and smiled. He got dressed, made a fire and cooked the salmon for him and Tim.

As the season started to change and the weather started to get cold as winter got closer, John and Tim faced new challenges. Food grew scarce, and the biting cold threatened hypothermia.

Night had come and the temperature had dropped significantly.

“Know any good caves, Tim,” John asked as he was having trouble lighting some moist logs. He searched for some dry branches, eventually finding just enough to put in his fire pit and get a fire started with two pieces of flint. John had snuggled in the bears fur, eventually falling asleep.

John woke the next day to see snowflakes falling on his face.

“As much as I’d love to, Tim, I don’t think I can stay out here with you. I don’t think I’ll survive the winter,” John said.

Tim grunted and got up. Tim followed John down to the river where John took one final bath, being more careful this time not to lose his balance.

They hunted one last meal together, then started their search for civilization.

John and Tim walked for hours before eventually stumbling upon a familiar landmark, a signpost that marked the path to the city of Manassas. His heart surged with excitement.

He then looked in the bear's eyes. Tim looked sad and was panting heavy.

“It’s ok, Tim. If the Union wins the war, I can come back and visit during the summer,” John said. This seemed to make Tim happy.

John bid his loyal companion farewell with a wave, then wrapped his arms around the giant beast. He patted the bear's massive head in an attempt to convey his gratitude for the bond they had forged.

“I owe you a debt, buddy. I couldn’t have survived without you,” John said, now teary eyed.

John finally let go of Tim and wiped away his tears.

He turned around, as he walked away, John looked back one last time to see the Tim’s receding figure and waved Tim one final goodbye.

John eventually found the location of his old camp, which was now abandoned. He asked around to find out where they had gone and eventually caught up to them.

“We thought you were dead, John. It’s good to see you again, though you look thin. Come enjoy a hot meal,” his commander said. John smiled.

“We sent word to your parents that you were killed in action,” Johns commander said.

“Imagine the looks on their faces when I show up alive,” John said and they both laughed.

John had helped his unit fight in one last battle before being honorably discharged and given a medal.

He went home, his parents almost fell over when they saw him.

“I didn’t die, I was just lost in the wilderness,” John said.

“We can see that,” Johns father said and they laughed.

As his mother cooked dinner, he told them all about how he got lost chasing after the soldier and how his friend the bear helped him survive. And as promised, every summer he went back to the wilderness to visit Tim, this time bringing his parents. Year after year, Tim was always happy to see his old friend!

.