Well. I'll tell ya: I rather like that I can step out my door and meet some critter that could definitely be badder and meaner than me and all around tear me a new one if it so chose. This often baffles folks who knew me as a kid back in Massachusetts and know just how terrified I used to be of bears. As a preschooler, there'd been a place up off Route 3—somewhere between Hanover and Braintree, if I remember correctly—that had rearing mounts of a black bear, grizzly, and polar bear that my folks could barely get me to step foot into.
Well, that's changed. It was in process before I'd ever come up here and living here for just about 19 years has given me far more appreciation than fear of bears. It's not unheard of to go stepping out our front door in the evening to come face to face with one of the local blackies, as they pad down our sidewalk. It's happened numerous times.
We were sanding the front door late into one summer evening (Tulip had the inside while I was working on the outside), when I noticed what I thought was one of the neighborhood dogs come up beside me at the front step. Problem was, it wasn't a dog. Okay, I'll confess that there was practically a Tulip imprint in the inside wall as I pushed through the door a little quicker than I'm usually proud to admit.
We've also got a local blackie that likes to crawl along under the decks of our condo association as a sheltered trail. We used to find his tracks doing such in the early season snows before he'd head off to hibernate. These days I can rely on the Weewolfe to let me know when he's passing by. It'll usually consist of her sitting out on the deck, suddenly pressing her nose to the decking, and abruptly pressing herself to the glass of the door.
Nope, the Weewolfe, for all her bluster, doesn't like bears one bit. Out in the woods, if she hackles-up and starts barking, it's usually a pretty good indication that there's a deer nearby (big, bad guard dog protects us from Bambi). If she suddenly tucks her tail, without so much as a whimper, and abruptly turns around to go back the way we came, frantically looking over her shoulder as if to say, "well, move it lard-ass!" the whole time, it's usually a good indication that something ursine is or has recently been nearby.
I've had my own deck adventures, if such they could be called. As you've probably seen by some of my photos in other posts, I have an awesome view off my deck. With a set of wireless headphones, I can sit out on the deck, watch for mountain goats across the channel, smoke a stogie, drink a beer, and follow something on TV through the glass door all at the same time. I was out doing that late one afternoon and was leaning with my back to the railing and looking back through the window at whatever Tulip had on the DVD player at the time. Corner of my eye, I see there's another dog I've not met before and he's sniffing at my shoe through the railing balusters.
Wait a minute... That's not a dog!
It was probably this guy from the shots you've been seeing throughout the post, whom I was able to photograph from the deck a few days later.
No comments:
Post a Comment