QUART III - HOW MANY BERRIES DOES IT TAKE TO FILL UP A BEAR?

  

So funny that my concern about bears hanging out in our neck of the woods is dead on.  My lips twitch into a half-smile as I remember the look Yvette and I shared when Shane told us about Baby bear having a nap in the birch tree.  It might be funnier but I can tell Shane and his dad, Sam, are really uneasy ‘cause they don’t know where Momma is. 

Yvette and I had decided I should go on ahead since I walk quite a bit faster than her and Sofie, to try and see if my car was okay.  It would be awkward to get home without it.  My spirited walking pace slows a bit as I get nearer the spot where I think Shane and Sam spotted Baby bear.  I’m not too sure exactly where Baby is, since there are a heck of lot of birch trees in these woods.  As I start around the curve in the trail, I hear a low growl.  My heart is in my throat and my breath takes a hitch … luckily it’s the silver truck inching its way down the path toward me and it’s packed to the rafters with Yvette, Sofie, and a young couple, who are all crammed into the back seat of the silver pick-up.  The winter tires have been wedged in between all the stuff in the bed and are quite secure there ‘cause there isn’t much wiggle room for them to move.

Shane’s driving now.  Dad Sam has look-out duty.  I was never so glad in my life to see that silver bullet come to a stop between me and the birch trees.  The back door flings open and everyone squishes together a little more to make room for not-so-slender me.  Sofie is panting up a storm on Yvette’s lap, spit dripping from her little pink tongue in a rivulet.  Yvette does not look too impressed with the dripping but the alternative would be worse – walking and taking her chances with Momma bear finding her on foot.

It isn’t too much further to the parking area and I heave a sigh of relief when we get within eye-sight and I can see my well-seasoned 12-year old Toyota Echo is unscathed.  Apparently Momma and Baby bear preferred the forest’s fare to the delectables in my car.  Thank goodness.  I’ve heard about people’s cars being torn apart by a determined Makwa (bear in native Algonquin).

                        

    

                                    Exactly what I’m afraid of!

We finish jouncing and bouncing our way down the trail about another half mile (about a kilometer) and finally pull into the grassy parking area.   I waste no time opening the door and all but tumble out. The young couple, who have introduced themselves as Carrie and John, locals who frequently visit The Tree Museum, heave a sigh of relief as they peel themselves out of the wedge.  Yvette manages to get the door on her side open and has a tenuous hold of Sofie as she gingerly tries to keeps from touching the side of the truck to keep her outfit clean.  I did mention that she’s a bit of a Diva, yes?  Even when fleeing from bears.

                                                                               Carrie & John

                                                              Our heroes, Sam & Shane are camera shy! 

                                                              

Finally we’re all out of the truck, stretching and searching pockets to find tissues to wipe our sweaty faces.  It’s warm today and excitement has amped up the temp, along with all the body heat generated by being wedged together in the back seat.  Now I know what a sardine feels like. We all start talking at once, as an adrenalin rush kicks in, now that we know we have out-witted the Shash (Navajo for bear).                                                                             

 As we calm down a bit, we introduce all of ourselves to each other and share a little about why, where and how we all came to be there and phew! isn’t it great to be alive?

Then, weirdly, the unmistakable haunting strains of a bagpipe drifts down the path towards us, trailing on the warm autumn air.  A preternatural calmness falls over the 6.5 of us (the half is for Sofie, The Wonder Dog), and I’m thinking in balloon words, ‘Huh?  A bagpipe?  Where is the hell is that coming from and more to the point, who in the hell is playing it?’

             

We all stare with astonishment, as a man dressed in full Scottish regalia, comes striding out of the very same trees we had just fled from, a bagpipe being pumped vigorously and belching out a melody which reminds me of the opening bars to Copperhead Road. 

   

                                            Pat The Piper

All of our mouths drop open simultaneously, our eyes riveted.  The piper realizes he has company and he takes his lips from the mouthpiece of the blow pipe and stares right back at us.  It’s a Gravenhurst stare-down!

It seems Pat (who lives in a town Down Below) arrived at The Tree Museum after Sam and Shane started bouncing their way down the trail looking for the people from two parked cars.  No one knew about Pat until we heard the music.  It turns out that he is piping at a local wedding and took some time to walk the beautiful woods and practice a little before his gig.  Maybe, just maybe, the wailing music spooked Momma and Baby and they skedaddled deeper into the forest to escape what surely was the freakiest noise they’ve ever heard.

And, hmmm, I wonder what Pat’s wearing under that beautiful kilt?

And yes, I still want to know how many berries it takes to fill up a bear, even if it’s  just a Baby bear.