An Encounter in Vermont

     This morning, I was sitting at my computer, looking into the backyard, and saw what I thought was our black lab in the tall grass beside our garden. She has been known to eat our tomatoes out of the garden, so this year, we moved it next to our electronic dog containment system line, thus keeping our dogs (they both like tomatoes) about 20 feet away. Thinking that we had forgotten to put her electronic collar on or that she had decided to endure the pain to get at the tomatoes, I started yelling at her as I left the house and walked toward the garden. As I approached, I heard our dogs barking – from the house! – which was behind me. I stopped and looked at what was now in my garden and realized it was a small bear. It was probably about 40 lbs, meaning it was a yearling or a cub. At this point, it saw me and turned and ran away through the grass towards the woods. It was howling like a small child screaming, “Ow, ow, ow.”

       Now, I bet you think the story ends there – nope.

        “Aha,” I said to myself, “I’m going to get a picture of the little rascal to add to my wildlife photo album.”

      I ran into the house, as I am not a spring chicken anymore, grabbed my camera, and proceeded to chase after the bear. I was probably a hundred feet into the field – halfway to the woods – when my puny little brain kicked in and said, “Dean, if that was a cub, where do you think the mother is?”

       Suddenly, my adrenaline kicked in, my heart jumped to about two thousand beats per minute, and sweat broke out on my brow and other locations on my body. Visions of a headline in the Burlington News or, more appropriately, the National Enquirer flashed before my eyes – “Idiot Flatlander Chases Bear Into Woods To Get Photo and is Eaten!” I was paralyzed. I’m the Conservation Commission Chairman in town, and you would think I would know better.  I don’t ever forget my name but sometimes old age screws around with my logical thinking.

       I’m back in the house now. I have closed all the windows and doors, changed my pants, and am standing guard with my Remington 30-30, thinking that maybe, just maybe, I’m not the great outdoorsman I thought I was. Welcome to Vermont!