The Bear (pt. 3. Enter Bear, Stage Right)
The bear heard shots and the wind carried the smell of gunpowder quickly over the six miles to where it was standing in the creek, turning over rocks to look for crayfish. Before hearing the pops, the bear had been heading in that direction, following the scent of a garbage can in a remote campsite which a family from Kentucky had stuffed full of half-eaten Tastykakes and crushed cans that still leaked Mountain Dew. An almost empty bucket of chicken had been stuffed in last, blocking the locking mechanism and keeping the door ajar, allowing the smell from the canister to escape and make its way to the bear’s nose, causing dizzy and delight.
The stream had intervened on the way and the bear, remembering a productive day there the summer before, stopped to search for the crustaceans in the chilly, springtime water. This occasion was not as lucky, nor was it as patient, and it soon continued its journey towards the campsite, more cautiously now due to a new odor, underneath the acrid gunpowder, but strong in the bear’s nose.
It had picked up the scent of the men and stopped dead still for twenty minutes, head up and nostrils flaring. The smells caused the bear’s hair to rise on its back and it huffed, a sound of warning no one was close enough to hear. It was an evil smell to the animal, but the bear proceeded, not more slowly, but more cautiously. It grew stronger as the bear walked surely and silently, its heft pressing gently into the soft ground of the ending day. The sun was almost behind the last mountain, but the bear didn’t slow. It didn’t need to slow. The beacon of the campsite lit up its frontal lobe with the cascade of aromas now flooding it.
As it drew closer the bear picked up the scent of the woman, full of adrenaline and fear. It had been overwhelmed by the odor of the two men until the bear was within two hundred yards of the site. To the bear, it was cleaner and more natural, discernible, but still difficult to distinguish beneath the aggression of the males’ scents. As the bear continued to walk, the smell became stronger, not only due to proximity, but also because she was becoming more agitated. The bear could hear words spoken and then yelled.
The bear stopped to try to make sense of what was happening and how to proceed but it took only a brief moment for instinct to take over. Its hair began to rise again and it picked up its pace as it smelled the first scent of blood. The bear ran now, caution replaced by excitement and it burst through the bushes surrounding the campsite. One of the males stood, wide eyed, looking around into the dark of the woods, his eyes not adjusting as quickly as the bear’s.
Shadows from the fire flickered and confused the man, causing him to not see the bear until it was almost on him. He tried to shout, but only made a gurgling mess of a sound as he raised his hand with the pistol, pointing it at the leaping bear.
