Bear Spray

This evening I come to my computer, brimming with tales of adventure and organic cooking grease. That is to say, you won't be interested in anything I did yesterday. Or today for that matter. Except maybe that I bought fingernail clippers today after identifying them as yet another seemingly trivial, yet immensely important tool that I left at home in Ohio (others include shampoo, a towel, and laundry detergent... I'm currently in the process of re-evaluating my relationship with personal hygiene).

I guess I did buy a can of bear spray last night. It took me about an hour to do so, considering the general store is finding it difficult to keep the shelves stocked after the events of Wednesday morning (If you don't know what I'm talking about, CLICK HERE). But after trekking from one end of the park to the other, I managed to snatch the last one on the rack, with bearly any time to spare. After relaying my pun to the cashier, who gave me a sympathetic chuckle, we got to talking about how it would be in my best interest to actually read the instructions before I go out into the wilderness bearing bear spray. It certainly would be unfortunate to come across an angry Yogi and reach for my can of liquid bear TNT only to discover that it was at the bottom of my backpack, carefully wrapped in 13 inches of child-and-apocalypse-proof plastic. Even worse, we decided, would be the scenario where I point it backwards and create for the bear a marinated entree: Curried Paul. Nevertheless I was comforted by the story of the man who put his unfortunate family in a line and systematically doused each and every one with a healthy dose of the stuff, apparently thinking it was a more potent insect repellant. At least I knew enough to avoid doing that. At least I'm not that unbearably dense...

It got me to thinking about what I would do if attacked by a bear. Of course I would first try to calmly reason with it, explaining that I'm quite gristly and really wouldn't be worth the effort. I learned from Ranger Greg (the man when it comes to bears) that grizzly bears are the second smartest mammals native to North America, so even though Ranger Greg may be biased, I don't see why a peaceful settlement can't be reached - even if I have to trade my pic-a-nic basket for my wellbeing. Bears drive a hard bargain. Yet there are those bears who find cordial negotiation sessions to be boring, and would much rather get on with their business of eating me. This is when I exercise my right to bear arms against the bear (and his arms...which could cause me harm). I whip out the bear spray - which I have carefully excavated from 13 inches of child-and-apocalypse-proof plastic, and have placed in its holster on my left hip - and I let teddy know exactly which one of us has to resort to using weapons to defend himself. If this doesn't work, and the bear is desperately attracted to my raspbearry scented deodorant [Note: it is at this point that I have exhausted my bear puns], I'd like to think that I stand my ground, grab my buck knife, and meet my assailant. A grizzly scene ensues. [Note: Damn...] I actually found myself replaying this scene over and over in my head: I dodge his swipe, roll, and plunge my knife deep into his neck, mortally wounding him; and in the process I accumulate injuries that aren't quite fatal, but will produce a number of manly and interesting scars... But eventually I had to face the honest fact that, if I did ever come face-to-face with a malicious bear, I would be emptying the contents of the anti-bear canister, then running the hell away.

This was a humbling revelation, but I suppose it's better I came to it then rather than the moment when I'm looking at the back of Baloo's gaping throat.

I guess what I'm really trying to say is that I didn't really do much of anything yesterday and today. Perhaps, though, it's when we aren't doing much that we end up making the best use of our time... Just something to bear in mind.