Extreme Close-up of a Black Bear

It's a shame this black bear didn't provide a close-up of his face instead of his back. Maybe he was examining the camera.

A Bear Named Dog

When I first viewed the original of this photo, taken by my wildlife camera in April 2011, I almost deleted it because it appeared to be a photo of nothing but darkness--until a white speck, possibly an eye, caught my attention, so I kept enhancing this cropped photo. It had been even jokingly suggested to me that perhaps the camera had caught the eye of a large dog in the original photo--no, not unless this black bear happens to go by the name of Dog. Anyway, one more step and the bear would have been in the light--and I would have gotten a good photo. One of these days....

In Review

No new photos are available, since I have yet to purchase a new battery for my little camera. Actually, I took very few photos last year, despite the fact that I even had my wildlife camera up for several weeks--until I noticed someone was interested in "borrowing" it during the night a couple of times, and so I took it down. One of these weeks, or possibly months, I intend to post some of my wildlife photos. Since Ponzo was in charge of our posts last year, you see, I have gotten out of the habit of posting.

In 2011, we experienced illnesses, births, and deaths. We also had many black bear sightings on our property and, needless to say, I was absolutely delighted, especially with my pleasant, once-in-a-lifetime encounter with a mama black bear and her three little cubs. It truly could have been called the Summer of the Black Bear. As for my lowest point of the year, that was the death of Zorro, our winged feral cat.

The Acorn Bandit

One morning a number of weeks ago, I noticed acorn caps strewn all over my deck in the vicinity of the two full buckets of acorns I had collected for winter feeding of the squirrels, before the demise of the last remaining squirrel, that is. Out of curiosity, I opened the lid of the bucket on the left and saw that it was full. Then I opened the bucket on the right and saw what is depicted in the photo. Apparently, the acorn bandit had put the lids back on the buckets after he was done eating. (Lazy bear, there are acorns all over my property.) Seriously, I didn't mind, since I thought it was amusing. Incidentally, the acorn bandit didn't touch those acorns on his return visit last week.

Paw Print

On Saturday morning, I discovered that we'd had a visitor on our deck during the night. The black bear left his muddy paw prints everywhere.

Black Bear Walking Down Road

I took this photo from my living room window two days ago. In order for the bear to appear more than just a speck, I had to crop the photo many times.

Living with Bears

I was in the middle of writing a long post about black bears, but my assistant, Ponzo, strongly suggested I delete it and, instead, recommend a book by Linda Masterson entitled Living with Bears, A Practical Guide to Bear Country. I do highly recommend this book to anyone living in black bear country or anyone going camping in black bear country.

I have sometimes wondered what would happen if I ran smack into a black bear--something I almost did a few nights ago. I know that although black bears are shy by nature and do not want any trouble, a person is wise not to turn their back and run--unless, of course, they foolishly wish to be chased. Okay, it was nighttime and Rebel was tied in the yard. Since it was a nice night, I took a little stroll in my yard. Simultaneously, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as Rebel let out his there's-a-bear barks and I heard the heavy crashing sounds through the woods next to me. I suspect the bear had been sitting there until I got too near him, and then we both turned and walked off in opposite directions when Rebel started barking. It was only then that I realized I had turned my back to the black bear, who, by the way, had also turned his back to me. I think it must have been the little guy who has his own bear crossing path through my yard.

Autumn Harvest

I started collecting acorns in early September, and this year's acorn harvest was huge, beyond anything I ever imagined. If these acorns had been pecans, I would have enough collected nuts to make more than a dozen pecan pies for Thanksgiving. But I am sure the bountiful acorn crop was appreciated by the black bears and squirrels this year. And every now and then, even Rebel treats himself to an acorn or two.

A Young Black Bear

While Rebel and I were on the sofa watching Oprah this past Friday (okay, one of us was sound asleep), I happened to glance out the window; it took me several seconds to realize I was looking at a young black bear eating acorns in my driveway, no more than a dozen feet from the house. When I jumped up to get my camera, my action woke up Rebel, who immediately started barking at our visitor. Well, if I had returned my camera to its designated location on top of the desk in the living room, I would probably have gotten some good photos. But by the time I found my camera, the bear had already moved away, due to Rebel's incessant barking. I have no one to blame but myself, since I was the one who had left the camera next to the computer, and so I wasted precious moments. Nonetheless, I am thankful I got this one photo, taken from within the house. Just in case you cannot find the bear in the original photo, I decided to enlarge a cropped version of it in which the black bear is more visible, although blurry.

When Harry Met Buddy

The title has nothing to do with this post. I simply did not have an appropriate photo for the subject matter, which concerns both Big Mac and a black bear, separately.

Regarding Big Mac, I am happy to report that he is alive and well. Since Big Mac is the neighbors' orange cat with the fluffy tail, that means another unfortunate orange cat with a fluffy tail was killed by a vehicle on our road earlier this summer. By the way, Buddy is the name of the black cat in the photo with Harry, and he also happens to live with Big Mac; in the past, I have referred to Buddy as the neighbors' black cat, since I did not remember his name. My apologies to Buddy.

As for the black bear, I discovered he had left a calling card, no more than ten feet from my house yesterday. I noticed that the large pile of scat consisted of black sunflower seed shells, so I assumed the bear must have dined at a neighbor's bird feeder. Well, I later learned that the bear had found his dinner, a fifty-pound bag of sunflower seeds, inside a sturdy container which my neighbors had left outside. Apparently, the black bear either cleaned up after himself or took the leftovers with him, since there was no trace of the bag of sunflower seeds (other than the scat in my yard). Except for the destroyed container, there was no evidence that a bear had even been in my neighbors' yard. (When he discovered the fifty pounds of sunflower seeds, the bear must have thought, "What good fortune!" My neighbor laughed in agreement when I said that the bear probably thanked him for providing him with such an unexpected, large meal.)

Where's Waldo?

A few hours ago, Ponzo and I had just started to view 10 Questions for the Dalai Lama on Netflix on the computer, when Rebel started carrying on, barking the way he does when there is a black bear in the yard. So I grabbed my camera and, after ordering an excited Rebel to stay indoors, I went outside.

The black bear had already made his way into the ditch across the road; every now and then I would see his head, as he made his way slowly down the ditch. I waited for him to emerge out of the woods, which he finally did, more or less, and I noticed he was a full-grown bear, although he was still partially hidden. I figured I would wait and take my photos of the bear when he was clear of the woods, since it seemed that he had decided he was going to walk on the road. But the bear was very interested in something down the road, because he suddenly stopped in his tracks and he did not even glance my way.

A minute later, I learned what had captured the bear's full attention: a man and his black dog had been walking up the road. With the exception of the racket that Rebel was making inside the house, silence prevailed. The black bear, the black dog, the man, and I were silent, as I watched in amazement: the man allowed his medium-sized dog, who was on a retractable leash, to run right up to the bear, who turned and left quickly through the woods. And then the dog and his owner continued walking in silence, as if they had never run into the black bear. Nobody had even noticed my presence, but I decided that Waldo would be a good name for the bear. By the way, he is in the photo--or is he?

Bear

I have yet to take a good photo of a black bear on my property, in my neighborhood, or anywhere else. Rebel does let me know if there's one in the vicinity. But I do not go running outside with my camera in hopes of seeing a bear. I figure when the time is right, one day I shall finally take a good photo of a black bear. In the meantime, I amuse myself by finding an occasional bear pawprint in my yard.

Incidentally, two or three months ago, maybe it was right after hibernation season ended, my neighbor informed me that a black bear decided to grab a bag lunch out of the trash can on his deck and go for a picnic in the woods on my property. Apparently, the bear was a litterbug, because my neighbor had to clean up after him.

A Cat, a Woodpecker, and a Bear

What do a feral cat, a pileated woodpecker, and a black bear have in common? Their paths momentarily intersected in my yard this evening. All three were on separate missions to find food. The feral cat became a guest at Zorro's bowl, while the pileated woodpecker dined on ants inside one of my trees. As for the black bear, he merely walked through my yard without stopping. I should think about putting a bear crossing sign at the top of my driveway. Anyway, once again, I missed a black bear photo opportunity, because the bear had disappeared into the woods by the time I found my camera. I suppose I can console myself that, even if I'd been holding the camera in my hands at the time of the bear sighting, the bear would have turned out looking like a distant, small dark spot in my photo. Still, it would have been a bear photo. I am determined to get a photo of the black bear one of these days, months, years....

Black Bear Calling Card

When I glanced out a window this morning, I saw Zorro standing over something in the yard. Fearing the worst, I ran outside in hopes of perhaps saving the life of a squirrel or other small creature in the feral cat's clutches. But when I got close, I discovered Zorro examining a black clump with great interest. Apparently, a bear had dined at a neighbor's bird feeder. Anyway, I went back inside the house and googled black bear poop--I found scat. The proper term for bear poop is scat. My vocabulary word for the day.

This and That

One-and-a-half weeks ago, Ponzo was a little angry at me because I had substituted his dry cat food, a perfectly good brand, with a new grain-free cat food, and so he went on a hunger strike. The hunger strike lasted no more than twelve hours, but it was long enough to let me know he was not happy with my decision. After all, he had not been consulted. Therefore, Ponzo even refused to eat chicken soup that day. He would only drink some water. Before bedtime, however, he relented and ate his soup, when it appeared that I was not bringing back the old food. The following morning, Ponzo tried his new dry food and decided he was going to eat it. As for salmon oil, Ponzo really likes the taste of it, since he usually makes a nosedive for the dry cat food which has been squirted with the oil. I could have introduced the grain-free cat food simultaneously with the salmon oil, which perhaps would have prevented the hunger strike, but I wanted to see if Ponzo would eat the new food by itself. Regardless, chicken broth still remains a must-have on Ponzo's daily menu.



I admit I dote on Ponzo because of his FIV. But the other cats and Rebel are not lacking in the food and affection departments. Aside from chicken soup, the only difference is that Ponzo's more expensive storebought food usually comes from a pet store, not to mention my health food store purchases, while the others get their food either from the supermarket or Costco.



Since I happened to have an appointment out of the area yesterday, I thought I would stop at Costco on my way home. I do not know how I did it, but I got lost, which is something rare for me. I have a pretty good sense of direction and I can read a map. My excuses yesterday were that I was tired and I did not have a map in the car. But I was determined to find Costco, even after accidentally touring the city for nearly an hour. Okay, I am exaggerating--it was no more than forty or fifty minutes. A waste of gas, yes. But on the bright side, I got to see some interesting architecture. Over and over again. It sort of reminded me of the movie Groundhog Day, only I was unaware of the outcome because my day one was endless. Perhaps it was more like deja vu, since I was coming back to the same spot, going in a circle. Everything which had been unfamiliar started looking familiar. Finally, I found Costco.



I was very tired before I finished loading my car with the big bags of cat food and dog food. I suppose I made a comical sight trying to get the bag of dog food out of my cart, especially when it got stuck, so to speak, hanging on top of the cart. That was immediately after I dropped a large box of Milk-Bones on my right foot. And at that point, I really did not care if the bag split in half, as long as I would be able to leave the parking lot.



Exhausted, I reached home. I decided to leave all my non-perishable items in the car overnight. It crossed my mind that the cat food, dog food, and Milk-Bones in my car would be enough to make a very generous dinner for a bear family of four. So I went outside and made sure the doors were locked. Not that I expected a black bear to open a car door. But this morning, there were no signs of any animals visiting my car overnight--meaning no new scratches on the vehicle.



Now I shall tell you why I thought of black bears foraging for food around my car. Over the years, I have heard two stories of a black bear crawling through a vehicle in my housing development. Two separate accounts of different people and different vehicles. However, I suspect it may have been the same black bear, who has a thing for climbing through people's cars. Both times, the people had unloaded their groceries, left their car doors wide open, and gone into the house. And both times, a black bear had climbed through the vehicles. The first vehicle had been empty. The second vehicle contained a bag of cat food, either just before or at the time of the bear's visit. Moral of these stories is that one should never leave one's car doors wide open in a bear crossing area, especially after a trip to the supermarket. Incidentally, the owner of the first vehicle thought it was funny, while the second vehicle's owner was up in arms over the audacity of the black bear to invade the sanctuary of a vehicle. Needless to say, I thought they were funny stories, since no harm had been done. Obviously, the bear thought the open doors were an invitation he could not refuse. So if my car had gotten scratched overnight or the windows broken, it would have been my fault. Would I have found it funny? The answer is: my glass is half full. Honestly, if I had been at all concerned about the probability of a black bear damaging my car for some food, I would have parked it inside the garage. Locked car doors are to keep foraging people honest.

Limping Black Bear

Because I decided to ignore my barking dog until I finished writing an e-mail, I missed a wonderful photo opportunity. By the time I emerged from my computer room, the young black bear had already limped halfway across my property.

Instead of lunging for my camera, I wasted precious seconds. I do not know what possessed me to gawk at the bear sans camera. I suppose I was trying to figure out why the bear was limping--as if I could do something about it! Time was of the essence, if I was going to take a photo from my living room windows.

Well, once again, I blew it. The mental image of a very determined Rebel pushing his way past me, as I opened the front door, deterred me from taking the risk of stepping outside to take a photo from the safety of my deck. A tiny photo of a retreating black bear's back would have made me happy. I am serious. So here I sit, with the memory of a limping black bear. And Rebel is still carrying on in hopes that the bear will turn around and come back. Mikey, the Black Bear Follower, however, observed the bear from the best seat in the house--the deck railing.

Mikey, the Black Bear Follower

There is no doubt now that it was a black bear who had moved the doghouse on the deck. When I went outside to water some plants this afternoon, I took Rebel with me. That is, I put my dog on his cable stake-out, and then I went about my business. A few minutes later, Rebel spotted the black bear, who had either been napping or foraging for food in the woods behind the shed. Fortunately, my fearless dog was tied up, otherwise he would have gone after the bear--in a friendly fashion, mind you; needless to say, if the bear lacked Rebel's enthusiasm to strike up a friendship, there could have been a problem. But the bear decided to go elsewhere, moving slowly and quietly, then stopping and glancing back at us, as if maybe he was changing his mind about leaving. Anyway, by the time I got my camera and tried to take a photo of the bear, he had already disappeared from my sight. However, I discovered that Mikey, my Himalayan, had been following and observing the bear from a safe distance. In the past, I have seen Mikey follow all sorts of four-legged visitors, such as deer, opossums, and raccoons, but never a bear. Well, all the photos of my few bear sightings over the years have one thing in common: no bear.

Who Moved the Doghouse?

To the best of my knowledge, even though dogs have occasionally sniffed the doghouse on my deck, no doggie paws have ever actually stepped inside it. That definitely includes my own dog, for whom it was purchased five years ago. However, I do know that the doghouse has been used for taking an occasional cat nap by those of the feline persuasion. We've also had many opossum and raccoon visitors, who may have been unable to resist their own curiosity, I suspect. And believe it or not, when I first placed my dog's rejected house on the deck several years ago, it served as the daytime sleeping quarters of a large toad that summer. Nowadays, it's mostly a deck fixture. Last fall, after putting a small rug inside it, I turned the doghouse so that it would face the house, where it remained unmoved until yesterday. I'd even forgotten about the red sweater, until I saw it with the pulled-out rug. Apparently, during the night, a large foraging somebody had decided to turn the doghouse around in order to look inside it. I suspect the culprit was a black bear. Maybe even the same one I'd seen on my property three weeks ago. Over the years, people have told me about seeing black bears in the neighborhood, including my property, but my own bear sightings have averaged less than one per year. Go figure.