*Previously published in Canadian Stories magazine, December 2012/January 2013 issue.
This is my only foray into non-fiction published thus far.
I’ve always enjoyed working alone
in the bush. A lot of people prefer the
safety of working with a partner, which is alright if you end up with a like
minded individual who’s happy to walk in silence. You don’t always get to choose your partner
however, and this can lead to an entire day of forced small talk and awkward
silences. When you work alone, you are
free to wander the landscape at peace with your surroundings, with only your thoughts
to keep you company. It also allows you
to walk silently through the woods, leading to close encounters with many
animals, which I find almost spiritual.
I’ll never forget sitting, eating my lunch while a cow moose stood eating
reeds at the mouth of a creek not 50 paces away. Or wandering into a clearing, startling a
Lynx who’d been relaxing in the sun. Or
all the times I just sat watching whiskey jacks flit from tree to tree. I’d encountered my fair share of bears in the
past, and have continued to since, but these meetings have always been resolved
through mutual respect, both of us going our separate ways. It’s always the one exception that sticks in
your mind.
I was working in a small town near
Thunder Bay, just off the Trans Canada Highway.
As usual I’d chosen to work alone.
We were mapping grids cut through the forest, prospecting the rocks for
copper. I’d arrived at a small, but
steep valley. I clambered down into the
valley, the sun beating down on. By the
time I’d reached the floor I was covered in dirt and sweat. As I started climbing the gentle slope on the
other side, I was happy to find a small outcrop in the shade of a stand of tall
pines. I’d dropped my pack and been
diligently hammering away at the rocks when I heard a sound that raised the
hairs on my neck. Those of you who have
spent time in the wilderness will already know every animal sounds different
when they walk. A moose will pick each
step carefully, and so will be heard to carefully make it’s through the woods
in 4:4 time. A squirrel will move in a
series of short, quick bursts of speed. A
bear will roll when it walks, it’s back legs quickly trying to catch up with its
front. As I’m bent over this rock,
focused on my work, I hear slowly coming up the valley “whump, whump,
whump”. I stand up and turn around just
in time to see a big black bear come wandering through the valley, about 25
paces away. He turned and looked up the
line at me, then very stealthily slipped behind a boulder, never taking his
eyes off of me. I didn’t like this, he was behaving far too predatory for my
comfort. I didn’t panic though; I
reached into my bag for my handy bear deterrents; bear spray and bear
bangers. Bear spray is a big nasty can
of mace, which is best left as a final deterrent, as the bear must be close,
and it’s almost impossible not to spray yourself at the same time. Many a person has spent a few panicked
moments blind, wondering if the bear has run off to dunk its face in the
nearest lake, or if they’re standing waiting to feel the massive claws rake
across their body. Bear bangers are
small explosive flares that can be fired from handheld launchers about the size
of a large pen. I loaded a flare into the
launcher and shot a bear banger straight into the air. It flew up, leaving a trail of sulphurous
smoke behind it, but no bang. The bear
continued to stare at me, sniffing the air.
I quickly reloaded the launcher, and held it above my head, sending
another flare into the air between us. This
one turned out to be faulty as well, as it began cart wheeling in the air as
soon as it left the launcher, before finally shooting straight back at me, to
explode next to my left ear. I looked at
the bear again, with my heart beating a mile a minute, and a loud ringing in my
ear. The bear was unmoved by all this
drama, he just continued staring at me.
I finally decided to abandon the rock for today, and move on a bit. I shouldered by bag, and began backing slowly
away. The bear began following me,
moving from the boulder to a closer tree.
I began to pick up my pace, with the bear slowly following behind
me. He didn’t look like he was sure if I
was competition or prey. Fortunately the
way out of the valley became a steep slope of loose talus leading to a small,
but steep cliff. I climbed up the talus
slope as quickly as I could, careful not to lose my balance and go sliding down
to land at the feet of the bear like a ham wrapped in ribbon. Finally I reached the base of the cliff. I turned and looked at the bear below
me. To this day I swear he shrugged
before wandering back down into the valley, and continuing on his way.
I climbed up the cliff and
continued by work up along the rest of the line. At lunch we all met to see how we were progressing. I was sure to stick with the others for the
rest of the afternoon. Despite this
close encounter I still prefer to work alone, and have managed to maintain a
healthy working relationship with the bears of Canada.
