Skip to main content

There Be Bears

When we first set out to live in Florida, we expected wildlife someone from Ohio would assume, the stereotypical animals. There would likely be alligators in the lakes, and there are definitely snakes, and  there are small lizards that turn bright green, and we would encounter large birds like herons and pelicans.

But no one told us to look out for black bears. In the Panhandle, you're basically in Alabama, more so in a pine forest than in the tropics. But still, black bears?

We bought a house on the edge of a forest buffeted by just one other house, and before we had even moved in, one of our new neighbors mentioned in passing, simply in passing like saying "sometimes the trash collectors comes super early in the morning," which is true, "By the way, we have a bear family in the neighborhood, so..."

So? So, what? What does that mean, and how does that affect us, other than requiring we keep our garbage in locked cans? 

Our first encounter went like this. One night in October, I was on our screened-in porch with the dog looking out at the yard when I heard a commotion on the other side of the six-foot fence. Neighbor dogs were barking like mad, which sent my dog into a tizzy. More commotion, a stirring of foliage, and right in front of us a bear cub flopped over the top of the fence and landed clumsily in the yard. I yelled, as you can imagine.

Husband came running and caught the fella on camera, and we tracked him as he climbed a pine tree and began bawling. Turns out he was looking for Mama Bear who was waiting for him in our driveway. She had climbed the fence earlier before we could be witness. They were reunited and casually meandered down the street.

I called the non-emergency police number and was transferred to a wildlife agency, and the agent's response was basically, "Well, you moved to an area with bears, so you need to learn to live with them." He mailed us a brochure on how to do that.

Since that first encounter, the mama and cub visited several times in the winter months, always at night and sometimes lingering to play. And a couple of times Big Papa Bear would climb the fence like it was nothing and would hang out by the pool. They will sit on the edge and dangle their feet, and they will pull out the filter baskets looking for frogs or whatnot to eat. Once, Papa Bear stopped by while we were still awake and rolled around in the grass with the dog's squeaky toy until he broke it, and then he climbed back over the fence with one of the other dog toys as a souvenir.

So, this is an answer to the question "what's it like to live there." There be bears, and no one is coming to save you. 

#EmeraldCoast #blackbears #Panhandle

Comments

dive said…
Whooee! Welcome back to Blogville, Robyn. We're throwing a party for you. Bring the bears!

Popular posts from this blog

No More Mr. Nice Guy

It's good to be a nice person--to say nice things, to do nice things, to write nice things--but I declare an end to the use of the word nice. Nice is what you say when you can't think of any other adjective. Someone shows you a picture of their back yard--that's nice. Someone tells you about their afternoon adventure--that's nice. Or someone describes their childhood in great detail and sometimes with painstaking effort--that's nice. It's a lazy word, and it's non-descriptive. Nice is like mashed potatoes with noodles and chicken gravy all in a big pile on one plate with some canned corn for garnish. Everything is the same color and texture and base substance--starch (this is a favorite Amish dish). Nice is like a partly cloudy day in April when outside feels like inside, and you can't tell a difference between the lighting and the temperature of your living room and the lighting and temperature of your front yard. Nice is a glass of lukewarm water. ...

Long Live Anita Bowser

You know I occasionally check my hometown newspaper's website to scan the obituaries (morbid, I know, but I'm at that age). Over this past weekend, I read the obituary of Indiana State Senator Anita Bowser . She was a noted Democrat who championed causes protecting the neediest in the state's population. She was respected on both sides of the aisle for her intelligence and plain and outspoken approach to law making. The picture on her senate page is lovely. I remember none of those things about Anita Bowser . My first year or so in college was spent at a branch of Purdue University, and in the early 80s, Anita was a political science professor. She taught my American Government class my freshman year, and she was a mess. Somewhere in my old text book, I have a sketch of her drawn on a particularly dull day in class--her hose sagged at her ankles, her slip showed at least half an inch all the way around, her hair had been slept on but not brushed, and her bright red lip stic...

Ish People

Tell an Ish person to show up around 9 a.m., and you'll see them somewhere around 9 a.m. Tell them to show up at 9ish, and you'll see them anywhere from 9:05 to 9:20. You have given them license to dilly dally, and who wouldn't take advantage of that? The other night at the big shindig dinner party, one of the drummers said the rehearsal the next morning would begin at 9ish. "I am an ish person," he says. Immediately the clanker goes off in my head--oh, good, I thought. I can deliver my daughter a little late. No Ish person is early, so if you say 9ish, that does not mean give or take 5, 10, 15 minutes. It's exclusively a taking phrase. Take an extra 10 minutes to drink your cup of coffee. We won't mind. We're Ish people. Sunday's rehearsal started at 2:00. Because it was conducted by the same people who conducted the Saturday rehearsal, my understanding was 2-ISH. My daughter is worse than I am about taking liberties with Ish time frames, so she d...