Enough with the bears this year. Yesterday afternoon a small
cinnamon bear came out of the trees and ambled along the edge of our driveway,
then ran off toward where we store our boat. Which we were just going to finish
getting ready for the season.
Me: You go finish getting the boat ready.
Dean: No, you go. You were doing a fine job this morning.
Me: No reason I should have all the fun. You go ahead.
We both went. One to clean and one to stand bearwatch.
Last night I was on the deck reading after Dean went to bed.
Woody started growling, then barking, then ran to the edge of the deck. Another
one. Bigger cinnamon bear in the clearing behind the house. Woody gave him his
fiercest “red alert” bark, I added a little yelling and he ran off into the
woods. Or she? Maybe the mama of the smaller one we saw earlier? Okay, it’s Montana.
We have bears. But this is getting ridiculous. Might have go to all Fish &
Wildlife on their ursine asses.
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