The Bear in the Tree
Michael had finished feeding the dogs one April spring
morning and wondered why they were still making such a racket. Then he realized
it wasn’t the usual noise when feeding and running them. He then went out to
inspect the kennel. All noses were pointing south against their respective
fences. One large pen housed six dogs. They were grouped at the south fence
some sixty feet away, noses in the air and howling. Michael looked up and saw a
black bear precariously perched in a rather smallish tree, less than three feet
away from the fence, next to a sledding trail.
The bear wasn’t very big, possibly a couple of hundred
pounds. We estimated him to be about two years old. Since we don’t interfere
with nature’s way, we left the bear in his tree, knowing he’d come down soon
enough. When Mama Bear has a new cub, usually every second year, she chases the
older cub away. The bear in the tree must have been exploring his new freedom –
mother bear can be strict with her offsprings – and followed the trail. Young Bear
didn’t know about dogs being penned and when suddenly confronted with a pack of
howling creatures, he must have thought they were wolves. Mama Bear had
imprinted in him the fear of wolves, so he promptly climbed the nearest tree.
However, an hour later, Young Bear was still in the tree and
the dogs still at the fence taking turn to howl. Their instinct to hunt polar
bears was alive and well, and they were frustrated. In their mind, they had cornered the bear and now it was time for the hunter to do his job. But there was no hunter of course. Young Bear was
uncomfortable in the crook of a branch of the tall but small tree. There was nothing to do but help him. We
called the dogs to the front of the pen and tied them up, a treat helped keep
them quiet, though they kept looking at the bear.
After about ten minutes, Young Bear shifted position and
began his descent without any further trouble. He disappeared in the bush.
Somehow, I don’t think he will come close to the compound again.
