Bears and Herons
The bear was the size of my Subaru, at least, and eating dandelions on the side of the road. It would have been nice to slow down and look at her, except that Chip and I were on bicycles. Bears can run faster than I can ride even with my sympathetic nervous system doing the best it can to pump me full of adrenaline. I turned around and headed back toward the airport, where I could call for a lift home. But Chip clapped and yelled, "hey bear" and he, or maybe she, beat it off into the thick roadside brush. I still did not want to pass, I mean the bear could leap out and have some fresh meat to go with all those greens. It was Sunday, we sometimes have bacon on Sunday, and it was breakfast time. The good news is, nothing happened when we pedaled by the place the bear had been, as fast as we could, except that my legs suddenly were not tired. It was easy to ride fast with the threat of a bear attack so fresh. I was pedaling slower this morning on the way up Cemetery Hill when my neighbor McCoy said hello from his porch. He's an early riser. A heron flew over the trees and I pointed it out as I huffed up the hill. He said he saw seven yesterday, all together. I said that must be some sort of biblical sign. He said it might be, but I never did figure out what kind of sign, good or bad, as by then I was out of earshot and he was back to his gardening. The way the sun is shining on the inlet and the mountains right now, I figure it is all good- bears, herons- you name it.