While the dogs were hungrily devouring their breakfasts this morning, I walked around opening the curtains at the front of the house. When I opened the curtain in the office there was something not quite right about my view. There was something big and black near the bird feeding station and it wasn’t a crow. A bear! Finally! I haven’t seen a bear around since last September.

No pics because I didn’t have time. It didn’t find any fresh bird seed so it did not stick around. It started off for my neighbor’s across the road, so I headed for the phone instead of my camera to warn her in case her dogs were outside. The bear was walking at a pretty good clip and was soon out of my range of vision. The amount of ground he/she could cover in just a few minutes by just walking was amazing.

It was a fairly big bear but I can’t be certain it was the same bear that was hanging around in my trees eating acorns last year. It might have been, but I think that bear was just a bit bigger than this one. Neither bear had any ear tags so for sure it was not Ursa, Doris or either of the two cubs, Major and Minor, from the first year.

My neighbor Luke, who lives at the other end of our street, told me he saw a mother with two tiny cubs down by the pond the other day. I was so hoping that they would come up here. It’s so much fun to watch the interaction between mom and cubs. Since moving here I have a whole new respect and admiration for bears instead of just fearing them. I love having them around! I have hopes that this could be a good bear year.

All I can say is that we must have the tastiest acorns in New Jersey right here in our back yard. Mr. Bear paid us another visit late yesterday afternoon.

I went out on the deck with a glass of wine to watch for Rick’s arrival home (which is my normal daily routine) and I heard the now familiar sound of the heavy rustling of leaves. Not a squirrel. I turned my head and there he was: up the same tree, only this time not quite as close to the top. Silly bear. I ran for both cameras, then down into the yard I went. My plan was to keep him treed until Rick got home, which was in just a manner of minutes. I knew he wouldn’t come down with a crazy lady saying unintelligible things and pointing a funny looking thing at him!

Rick arrived a few minutes later and I motioned him into the back yard. We watched for awhile and were rewarded with this silly sit.

It was obvious the bear was hot and really wanted to come down out of the tree, so we retreated into the house. I watched from the window and saw him start his descent, so I went out onto the deck and took these vids. If you listen closely you will hear a hummingbird buzz by, then I pan to the hummingbird feeder. Throughout the first vid you can hear them coming and going!

Come again soon, Mr. Bear, you’re always welcome!

Yesterday I prepared to mow the back yard by picking up dog toys and scooping. I kept hearing a rattling of branches above me. A few acorns were hitting the ground. I looked up but didn’t see anything. I suspected the usual squirrel scurrying around. With that chore done I hopped on Johnny to mow while Alex and Sailor chewed on their bones in the other part of the yard. Little did I know then but I was mowing the yard (with dogs outside) with a bear up the tree.

As I mowed I noticed a suspicious looking poo that looked a lot like bear scat to me at the bottom of the big oak. I noted to myself to take a closer look when I was done. Around and around and up and down Johnny and I went until the grass was looking like a yard again instead of a field. This year the grass has been growing so fast that once a week isn’t quite enough.

Anyway, Alex came over and sniffed the poo. He didn’t like it. He sniffed the bottom of the tree and looked up. He jumped back like someone had scared him. I looked up .... waaaay up. Yup, a big black thing in the very top. Hello, bear! I naturally assumed it was Doris since she’s the bear that’s seen the most. You know me, I headed inside for the camera.

Looking for all the world like a big, black ape the bear was swinging its arms out to capture acorns on the nearby branch. Standing underneath the tree trying to get a clear view of the bear I was in danger of being clonked on the head by falling nuts. Leaves and pieces of branches drifted down. Maybe this wasn’t the smartest place to be. What if the dumb thing fell out of the tree and landed on top of me? Okay, I can get a better shot from out in the yard anyway.

I managed to take a little video but my baby camera doesn’t do zoom very well, so it’s not the best. But it’s better than nothing. I was standing next to the pool pump, so it’s a bit noisy.

This went on for quite some time and I just stood out in the yard and watched. Pretty soon it was obvious that the bear had decided to come down. I watched the somewhat clumsy descent.

... hmmm ... it seemed easier going up .... how did I get my big fat butt up here?

geez, I shouldn’t have eaten all those acorns

almost down now ...

Okay, Lynne, time to move out of the yard. Just as I got to the stairs to the deck the bear was down. It saw me and we made eye contact. Poor thing was panting, just like a dog. It was after all, a very warm, sunny day and it must have been hot up in the top of the tree with a black fur coat on. I blinked and the bear had disappeared into the woods without a sound.

After studying the photos I came to the conclusion that I had not seen this particular bear before. It was big, but was it big enough to be Bruno? All the bears that we’ve encountered to date have all been tagged. This bear had no tag in either ear. So, not Doris; not Ursa; and definitely not the cubbies. They tell me that when a bear makes contact with people the wildlife officials tag the bear. Each time the same bear is reported it gets another tag. Three tags and they are out. Very curious that this bear had none. Now I felt stupid that I had been talking to the bear and calling it Doris!

Thinking that my bear encounter was over for the day, I headed back inside. A while later I fed the dogs, let them outside, and went outside myself to water the flowers by the pool. The dogs sensed nothing amiss and went about their usual after meal duties. About five mintues later I heard Alex barking. I looked and saw him halfway into the woods, just standing in the same spot, barking. Uh oh. Sure enough, there was the bear laying not far from where Alex was standing. It raised its head but didn’t move. Okay, everybody back inside!

A half hour later I went back out to check if the bear had left yet, and saw to my surprise that it was fast asleep in the shade, lying there like a big black lump. It didn’t even hear me. (Now don’t worry I didn’t get any closer than I was before!) Another 45 minutes or so passes and I can’t resist the temptation to check yet again. Still there, sound asleep, except this time it’s halfway rolled over onto its back with one paw flung in the air. Sure looked like it was comfy. All I can say is that acorn gathering must be really hard work. By the time Rick got home a little while later it was gone. I guess I’m going to have to look before I do my little walk in the woods from now on.

I’ve been tagged by Patsy over at The Best of Times to bore you with 8 more Random Things About Me. As if six weird things weren’t enough, you now get to know more. Oh joy. Where to start?

1.
Between the years of 1983 and 1993 we lived in Europe for seven and a half of those years. In southern Germany near Stüttgart [1983-1985]; the Netherlands just outside of Amsterdam [1989-1991]; and France near Lyon [1991-1993]. And no, it was not military related. Rick worked for Hewlett-Packard and we signed on as FSEs (foreign service employees) to work at those locations. It was enlightening, challenging, fun, at times lonely and frustrating, but I wouldn’t trade those years for anything. Since we were married in 1981 we were still newlyweds when we moved the first time, Europe molded and forged our marriage. It pretty much changed the way we eat, drink, and think forever.

I do speak a smattering of all three languages, but not fluent in any. It’s very humbling for an adult to have the vocabulary of a two-year-old. When I heard kids jabbering away in their native language I was envious. German is probably my strongest because I went to a language school during the day for several months. But as with most things in life; you use it or you lose it. I think it would come back if you plunked me down in any of those countries. Today Rick and I speak a mix of all three with each other, picking the best word or word we used most from each language and stringing them all together in the same sentence. It’s a language all our own.

Here is the house where we lived in France:

2.
I have a pen fetish. I buy pens right and left and am very particular about the way they write. If I buy them and don’t like them; I don’t use them. I have favorites and get upset when they finally run dry of ink.

3.
I talk to inanimate objects such as trees, flowers, mushrooms. You name it. I talk to my dogs and cats like they were children and perfectly able to understand what I’m saying to them and act on it. Most of the time I think they do understand exactly what I want—other times they haven’t a clue. Hey, maybe they aren’t too far off how a child would react! I also talk to the bears, chipmunks, squirrels, birds, butterflies and whatever other creatures turn up in my yard. I guess I’m pretty much certifiable.

4.
I was deathly afraid of bears for most of my life until I moved here and encountered them in my yard so frequently. Now I adore my bears. Go figure. I think it all started when we hiked up to my Father’s hunting camp in the Adirondacks and saw that a bear had clawed up the side of the camp. I don’t know why it had such an effect on me, but it did. Here is the photo to prove it. My Dad has me in his arms—you can just see my little leg and foot on his right hand side and my arm around his neck. That’s my sister inspecting the damage. Funny how some things stick with you for no reason.

5.
I had my own small “desktop publishing” business for a while. I mostly worked with printers doing all kinds of typesetting, designing business cards, brochures, forms (hated those!) and things like that. I have no formal training in graphic design but everyone seemed to love what I did for them. I also produced several newsletters—one while we lived in Amsterdam for all the FSEs in HP with travel tips, recipes, company news, etc., and the other was our dog club’s bi-monthly newsletter. I guess I just need a creative outlet and now I have my blog!

6.
I was born in New York state. When I was 12 we moved to Florida. Our house there was on a lake in which there dwelled an alligator. Allie the Alligator is what we called him. Original, weren’t we? Before we built the sea wall at the edge of our yard, Allie used to enjoy sunning himself in our yard. When we saw him on the other side of the lake we would clap our hands and call him (as if he knew his name—oh yeah). But the funny thing is—he did come—swimming towards us with his tail swiveling from side to side like a giant, warty snake. When he arrived we tossed him marshmallows. He was blind in one eye so you had to be considerate and toss the mallows on the sighted side. My Mother (dear woman) used to feed this beast chicken bones with a mere pair of serving tongs!!!! I kid you not; she really did this. Too bad we never captured this feat on film.

I wish I had a pic of him to share but all those old photos reside with my Mom. Maybe next time I’m up to fetch her I’ll look for one. And oh yes, my Mother still has all the appendages she was born with. [No, we won’t talk about her wits, but maybe—just maybe—I inherited her love of living dangerously with wildlife.]

Poor Allie ... his fate was sealed the day he happened to snap up a neighbor’s little poodle. Perhaps he thought it was a large marshmallow? Whatever his reason, he was promptly removed from our little community. So sad.

NO! I am not making this up. Just ask my sister. Maybe she’ll leave a comment ... [hint, hint]

Okay, I’m on a roll now. I sure hope I’m not boring you to bits.

7.
I used to play the organ. When I started I couldn’t even reach the pedals. It was not my choice. My parents made me do it. I had to do something. My first choice would have been ballet lessons. I begged and begged, but I don’t think they took me seriously. I mean look at me, could you?

My Mother doesn’t remember me wanting to take ballet. But then again, she doesn’t remember my learning to swim either.

My second choice was the piano. But no, my sister was taking piano lessons, therefore I could not. [My sister can’t swim either, does that figure into this? Sorry, you needed to read the linked blog entry above for that to make any sense.] My Dad was into playing the organ, so therefore I was delegated to take organ lessons. I had the same teacher my sister had for piano. Mrs. Loftberg; I remember her well and I also remember her lumpy daughter that took—of all things—ballet. She took them for the same reason that all girls of that era took ballet lessons—to make their clumsy butts look more graceful. Trust me; with her it was so not working. But, as usual I’ve gone down a different path than the one which I was following. Here I am at the organ:

I think I was having a bad hair day—look at those finger curls! And, hey Mom, did you put a bowl on my head to trim those bangs [fringe]?

Are you still with me? Still reading this epic

? Hang in there ... one more short one to go ...

8.
I learned to knit only three years ago. I taught myself from a book and then took some lessons. I wish I had learned years ago, but I didn’t. My Mother crochets but for some reason I never had the desire to learn. I know I should, but it looks too fussy to me. I love knitting and have met some absolutely wonderful people in the process. Knitters are just great people. No doubt about it. I am hooked. No, wait, that would be crochet. [hook-ed—get it?] Okay, I’m needled for life.

Thanks, Patsy, for tagging me. I learned a lot about myself through this process! And I guess that you too, dear readers, have as well although as I read back over my 8 more Random Things they sounded more like 8 more Weird Things. Oh well. C’est la vie!