Legacy

I run a fishing lodge in northern Michigan.  My name is John Roberts and since my wife died two years ago my only companion in this relatively remote area has been my faithful dog Hampton.  He is a fine specimen of an Elkhound.  An Elkhound appears to be half Husky and half German Sheppard, but actually is neither.

One night a couple of summers ago as I was sleeping, I was partially awakened  by a nudging in the bed, half asleep I reached over and patted fur.  Now while Hampton didn’t jump up there very often I just assumed it was him and went back to sleep.

I woke up in the morning shortly after sunrise and as I sat up now fully awake. I noticed with some alarm that the fur ball sharing my bed wasn’t Hampton.  It was a bear.  Fortunately not a big bear, just a wee small black bear cub.  Barely weaned I’d judge.  I figure she must have gotten in through Hampton’s doggy door.  Probably attracted by the smell of Hampton’s dog food.  Least way his bowl was now empty.

That sweet little bear was crying as bears can.  I figured she was hungry, scared, lonely, and needing to feel safe.  About that time Hampton woke up and came around the corner.  Hampton is very protective of me and I could tell he wasn’t sure about it.  After all bear smell is bear smell.  But that little girl ran over to Hampton and gave him a big lick.  That was all it took, Hampton knew there was no threat and he had a new friend.

I didn’t have any fresh milk, but I had some powdered.  So I mixed it up and hoped the little bear would go for it.  She did in a big way.  I refilled Hampton’s bowl also and that seemed to make things equitable in his eyes.  Then I remembered and got suddenly cautious, because   mama bears are very protective of their cubs.  If mama showed up she’d just about claw the door down to get to her cub.  A few hours passed and no mama bear.

I had to conclude that either the cub had gotten separated and good and lost or something had happened to mama bear.  We went outside and the little bear made the little crying Waugh,  Waugh sound and  started her little run towards the woods.  I figured well there she goes, maybe she knows where mama is.

But when we didn’t follow, she came back and made her crying sound again and then took off again.  This time we followed because it was obvious that’s what she wanted us to do.  She was moving at a good clip, but would pause ever so often so we could catch up.  That was no problem for Hampton, but I’m more pokey.

After about three miles we found mama bear. Deader than a doornail.  She had been shot and gutted for certain organs. It’s illegal to hunt bear out of season and illegal to deal in their organs at any time.  Those organs are shipped to China where they are prized as aphrodisiacs.  They fetch a very high price; about $500.00 per bear.  That’s why poachers take the risk.

We comforted the little bear as much as we could.  She kept nuzzling her mother but to no avail of course.  She’d look at us with such sad eyes and all I could do is shake my head.  She seemed to understand that.  All very young creatures are trusting and in need of parenting, even if its from another species.  She followed us home then quite willingly.

I decided to call her Cubby.  I then introduced Cubby to Hampton formally, and it was instant mutual affection.  Hampton give me the cocked head look as if he were thinking “Cubby” what’s wrong with Fuzzy Wuzzy.  But Cubby it was.

I reported what I’d found to the proper authorities  as I should.  I somehow forgot to mention Cubby.  That’s because it’s illegal to own a bear without special permits, inspected facilities, and its just one big pain to deal with.  Besides I rationalized that as long as I didn’t pen or cage her, she wasn’t owned.  Worked for me.

We became fast companions and spent many a happy hour in the woods.  Cubby had a penchant for finding berries.  It a bear thing I guess.  But my, oh my I stocked the freezer with more berries than I’d ever found before.  And Cubby ate her fill also.

Cubby didn’t hibernate that first winter as she was a little young to do that by herself.  She did make good use of the doggy door and Cubby and Hampton had fun playing tag in the snow.  Yes we had a cozy winter. We were indeed a team.  I though maybe I should call us The Three Musketeers.  That was an amusing thought and I had a soft chuckle or two on account of it.

By spring Cubby had gotten too big for the doggy door so resigned herself to the front porch with Hampton.  Those two made fine watch dogs so to speak.  By late summer Cubby had gotten almost full grown and was starting to get normal girl bear urges.  One day she just seemed to vanish.  I hoped she was alright and figured she reached the age for how you say, joining the bear community.

Winter came and still no Cubby.  She was a big girl now and probably denned up to hibernate for winter.  Next spring arrived with its usual beauty, but still no Cubby.  Then about mid summer this great big black bear walked up to the cabin porch with two cubs in tow and gave out with a familiar Waugh.

We rushed out and sure enough it was Cubby, a big girl now and a mama bear to boot.  She just wanted to show us her cubs.  We were so delighted, as we knew we had a friend for life.