The black bear who has been hanging around near our house harvesting this, that, and the other, paid a visit to the front of our house last night, as dusk settled in. Rather than opening the door and saying “shoo!” (bears REALLY hate that word), I tapped on the window glass while Dan went for his trusty weapon, a BB-gun, and headed for the sliding glass doors.
I could see the bears thinking process, “OMG, it’s the woman who says Shoo!” and he turned tail and ran down the hill as fast as his four-wheel drive paws would drive him. Poor Dan. Didn’t get a shot off. Poor Mishkin, he slept through a close encounter of the bear kind. Poor Opal, she saw a bear! (She’s the one who told us it was there). Poor Terry, she didn’t see the bear. Yeah us! Terry didn’t see the bear.
Much excitement ensued, albeit briefly. Caught a packrat too last night. We love living in the wilderness.