Rocky and I had a close encounter with a black bear at the cabin this morning. An hour or so before sunrise, Rocky growled in that low rumble the way he does when something is wrong but he's not sure what. Call it his pre-bark mode.
I thought it was just the humidifier gurgling, but a little voice in my foggy head told me to get up and investigate. I opened the blinds and saw the furred arch of a large back.
Cinnamon fur! Wrapped around a bear. It was probably the same bear that visited the premises a week ago, wasn’t afraid of gun shots or banging pots, and was only persuaded to leave when some big rocks hurled in earnest nearly bounced off his fat head.
So it's 6:00 AM on Sunday, Memorial Day weekend, there's not a soul within miles of here, and there’s a bear under my bedroom window. Interesting.