Letter: Singing Away the Black Bears
Reader Suzanne Sloane shares memories of black bear encounters and her father's sage advice.
LETTER TO THE EDITOR
It surprised some residents of Owen Sound that a black bear was captured recently after occupying a tree between the Owen Sound Salvation Army headquarters and an apartment building on 14th St West. Although most are unaware of their presence in Grey County, they are here, and in search of food after a winter of hibernation.
Black bears are shy and seldom a threat unless it is a she bear with cubs. Do not threaten them, and they are not likely to attack you.
I grew up in bear country, on a gold mine property in the bush, five miles from Kirkland Lake. In springtime,e they peeled out of their hibernation burrows hungry and in search of anything edible.
My brother and I were always warned by my father, who had prospected in northern Canada for years, that we must sing if we encountered a bear. “Sing and it won’t hurt you,” he said.
One day, my brother and I were blueberry picking. Crouching, as we picked along, we came almost nose to nose with a black bear. Bears love blueberries; it too had been munching along and possibly had not noticed us as well.
Brother Bob set down our almost full basket of blueberries, and we made a quick retreat to the top of a rather large boulder. From there, we proceeded to sing as the bear devoured our offering down to the last berry. She seemed to enjoy our accompaniment, raised her head with a nod and strode away.
On another occasion, we and another little girl stepped over a hilltop in the woods to see, just below us, three bears, a mother and twin cubs. It is said there is nothing so ferocious as a mother bear, but there she lay on the ground as her cubs played king of the castle on her back.
I’m sure she must have been aware of us as we sat and watched, until the tiny cubs sickened of their game, the mother rose, and all three ambled off.
Another thing our father had told us was that bears loved pork meat and could smell a pig five miles away.
Mother was a gardener. Even in the wilderness, she carried seed packets. Her gardens were glorious. My brother and I had guinea pig pets. We would set them out in her garden to nibble a leafy treat.
One day, the pigs were left unattended while we went in for lunch. As we sat eating sandwiches, the mine’s surface boss ran into the house yelling, “Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Smith, there's a bear in your flowers!” We rushed out the door to scare him off, but the bear and our wee guinea pigs were gone. My father was right, we thought, a bear could smell a pig five miles away, any type of pig!
My most memorable bear encounter was one day, Mother and I were driving from our home, through dense bush, toward the highway. A tire went flat. Mother got out of the car with a jack and tire wrench and proceeded to remove the damaged rear tire. At only five, I sat in the front seat, waiting.
A bear emerged from the bush, ambled up to the front fender, sniffed, and mounted it, sprawled across the car’s hood, nose to the windshield and stared. I was petrified, feeling like a fish in a bowl. The car began to rock as the bear swung from side to side, trying to shake me out. The mine’s truck drove toward us, blowing its horn. The bear slid off the hood and disappeared into the undergrowth.
Black bears are shy and usually harmless. Sing if you meet one, Owen Sounders, and it may just walk away.
Suzanne Sloan
Letters to the Editor do not necessarily reflect the opinions or beliefs of The Owen Sound Current and its editor or publisher.