The Bear In The
Little White Trailer
Lions, and tigers, and bears, oh my! Well, not so much the
lions and tigers, but definitely bears. Bears are this week’s blog topic.
As I have mentioned in previous stories, I’m from PA. That
stands for Pennsylvania, for all those who are not from the Keystone State.
Nobody calls it Pennsylvania; it’s always
“P. A.” I grew up just within the city limits of Williamsport.
Side Note: When we moved in to this house when I was a kid,
we had no running water or plumbing. In fact, we had the last standing outhouse
within the city limits. The local newspaper the Sun Gazette did a feature story
on it before it was taken down. Of course, we had indoor plumbing by then.
Our house was built by my Grandpap Hunter. It sat half-way
up a mountainside. Directly behind our house, was an overgrown vineyard that
had long since been cared for. It had been overtaken with thick brush and trees,
just as the mountain started to incline. We has gorgeous evergreen pine trees
that ran all the way up to the top of the mountain.
Side note: I’m saying that we lived on a mountain, which to
anyone actually from PA would say “Aw, that’s just a big hill. The mountains
are on the south side of the Valley.” And that would be true. But those who
live in the Midwest, where I now reside… they would say we did live on a small
mountain.
I had the run of all the area growing up. It was great. I
spent summer days exploring and playing, just my dog and me. We encountered
many things throughout the years, and I heard a ton of stories about what lived
in those woods. Some scary things, and some were just ridiculous.
One such story was about the night my mom was walked home by
what she claims to have been a bear. She worked 2nd shift, and got a
ride home late one night. The driver dropped her off at the bottom of our long driveway.
Halfway up our drive, she was greeted by something big and furry. She thought
it was our pet St. Bernard, Brandy.
All the way home she talked and walked with it, giving it
encouraging pats on the head as they walked. When she reached our house,
whatever it was ran off. She went in the house only to find Brandy asleep on
the floor. She swears it was a bear. I don’t know.
That was not the only encounter we had with bears. My
mother-in-law hit one with her car once. The car was totaled. She was ok, but
the bear didn’t survive.
Another time, which I think is the best story, is when
Chrissy and I were living in the real mountains. Our small mobile home sat at
the bottom of a mountain close to her grandparent’s home. A small brook ran
right behind the property. In this
little community called Proctor, there may have been a population of 150,
perhaps a bit more. Our little neighborhood had 4 houses within a stone’s
throwing distance from ours. We had two of our kids then, Ben and Tori, and
stupid dog named Pepper.
Where we lived, trash pick-up only happened every 2 weeks,
perhaps 4, depending on the time of year. So, we had 3 cans sitting out by
where we parked our cars. We had been told that sometimes bears would wonder
down the mountain and get into things. We had never seen this happen since we
had lived in the trailer. The only things we had seen were the occasional deer,
rabbits, raccoons, opossums, and a flock of turkeys.
One summer night, Chrissy woke me from a dead sleep. This
was normal.
She said, “Did you hear that?”
I said, “No, don’t worry, it’s probably a raccoon getting
into the garbage.”
She said, “No, it’s not, listen! It’s grunting and snorting
whatever it is!
We lay very still in our bed, and I listened. All I could
hear was my heart beating and my breathing.
I said, “Nope, nothing.”
Then she said, “There!” as she sat up in bed.
I said, “Okay, I’ll
get up and see.”
So, I got up and got the spotlight. Everyone who lives in PA
has a spotlight.
Side note: Spotlighting. It’s a verb. That’s what you did
for fun on a warm Saturday night. You drive around shining this huge
100,000,000 candlelight powered spotlight out your car window to see how many deer
or other species of wildlife you could see. That, my friends, was a wild night!
I grabbed my spotlight, and I opened the drapes to look out
the window. I could see nothing. I shined my light out the window, but all I
could see was our cars. I moved back through
the trailer to our bedroom windows. I pulled back the curtains to shine the
light out. And there it was as plain as day. The biggest, hairiest, monster I
had ever seen with it’s teeth bared looking right back at me through my window.
It was a Sasquatch!
No, I’m just kidding. All I could see was the hoods of our
cars. Of course, by this time Chrissy is pushing me over grabbing for the
light, so naturally I wouldn’t see any thing. Then, all of a sudden, I thought
I saw something moving on the far side of the car by our garbage. Then it moved
out in to plain sight. It was a big black bear! He was enjoying himself some
dinner on us.
I think this is when Chrissy looked at me and said in Scooby
Doo fashion “It’s a bear!” I think she may have peed a little too! She jumped
from the bed, ran into the kids’ room, and scooped them up. The next thing I
knew everyone was in our bed. Chrissy had the covers pulled over her head, asking
is it still there?
I said, “Yep, it’s still there.”
This bear was not little-- he had to have gone a few hundred
pounds. I thought it would be cool if he stood up, but he didn’t. He just kind
of meandered around by the garbage cans.
I finally coaxed Chrissy out from under her bear proof
covers to watch the bear with me. We
watched him for what seemed like hours, but I’m sure it was nowhere close to
that. Then Chrissy said to me, “What if he tries to get in the house?”
Now that thought hadn’t crossed my mind, but she said, “Won’t
he smell the food in our house?”
That’s when I started
to be a little concerned, but being the brave man of our small family, I said,
“Aw, don’t worry he can’t get in, and besides I have the 12-gauge.
She said, “You should get it.”
So, I grabbed the gun and carefully laid it on the bed.
Side Note: Now, at this time in my life I had only shot this
gun maybe once or twice when I went turkey hunting as a teen. Boy, is that a
story, but for another time. Honestly, the thing I remembered the most about
that gun was that it kicked like a mule. I probably could have better defended
our family by beating the bear with the gun.
Then Chrissy said, “You know the front door doesn’t latch very
well.”
I knew that front door needed fixed, but I hadn’t had the
money or the time to fix it. The more I thought about it, I started to worry. All
you really needed to do was push hard on the door, and it would fly open.
As any brave husband would do, I thought fast and said, “We
should move all the furniture in front of the door to barricade it. He’s not
going to come over here, but, you know, just in case. So we frantically pushed
our couch and chair over in front of the door, as well as anything else heavy
we could get in front of the door.
When we were done, we scampered back to the bed to see where
our furry friend was, and what he was up to. I shined the spotlight over by the car and
nothing. I stared to look around, where did he go? That’s when I heard a snort
right in front of the window we were looking out. I quickly pointed the light
down to where I heard the snort, and sure enough there he was. He was making
his way over to the trailer. We watched as he waddled past us and then over by
our front porch. We tiptoed out to the living room, and peeked out the window
just in time to see Mr. Cuddles waddling right up our porch steps. Our porch
was more of a stoop. It had three steps and then a 4x4 square deck. Not very
big at all.
I ran back to the bedroom and grabbed my gun. With trembling
fingers I put a slug in and closed the chamber, I was ready. If that bear
welcomed himself into our home it was on. As I stood with my heart racing
looking out the window. He came up the steps got on the porch. I though this is
it, get ready. Then he just turned around and sat down on our porch like he owned
the place. I had Chrissy go back to the bedroom with the kids and cover up with
her bear protectant sheets as I stood guard.
Again, I watched for what seemed like an eternity. Then all
of a sudden he sniffed the breeze and grunted. He flopped forward and jumped
off the porch. He waddled across the yard and out of sight to the neighbor’s
house.
I thought, I’m leaving the barricade up, just in case he
comes back. I walked back to the bedroom with my gun clenched in my hands and
pronounced that the bear has left the premises.
The funniest thing was that the kids slept through the
entire ordeal. That night we all slept together in our full-size bed with the
shotgun within reach. This was a crazy night that will not be forgotten. And
that is the story of the bear in the little white trailer.