One Day As A Lamb

*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.