“From ghoulies and ghosties,
Four leggedy beasties,
And things that go bump in the night,
Good Lord, deliver us!”
Old Scottish Poem
From the earliest days of the human race, mankind has sought warmth, comfort, and safety in the light. The light might have been found in the flickering of a campfire of wood, holding the dark shadows and unseen dangers at bay during a long night. I’m not sure we have changed all that much today as we keep a flashlight beside our beds or rely on bright spotlights to penetrate the darkness around our homes.
Early Sunday morning we had an encounter with the things that go bump in the night. The “girls,” as we refer to our two elderly Irish Setters, woke me up about 4:00 AM to go out. Even doggie bladders aren’t what they used to be! Sleepily, I headed down the carpeted stairs as it was easier for them to manipulate those stairs rather than the deck stairs which were slippery from a few random rain showers during the night. As soon as I opened the door, and they bolted out, I knew something was wrong!
Both girls rushed out and immediately started a frenzied barking and headed under the deck. A shuffling and snorting confirmed my worst fears; there was a bear under the deck! My maternal instincts immediately kicked in. I certainly didn’t want the dogs hurt by those long claws or sharp teeth. I yelled for Bill, upstairs blissfully sleeping. My tone of voice must have told him all he needed to know as he came down the stairs at a breakneck speed.
We stepped out on the downstairs patio. Both dogs were still barking vigorously, and a low growling from under the deck confirmed yet again that we were not alone. Luckily the dogs responded to our somewhat shrill calling them and paused long enough for Bill to grab them both by the collars. With another loud snort, the bear took off down the hill toward the back fence and disappeared, leaving all four of us feeling the after effects of a major adrenaline surge. Like our ancient ancestors, we could only take comfort in the bright light of our two motion sensor spotlights; the darkness beyond was an impenetrable expanse of unknown and invisible dangers. Even the beam of the flashlight only revealed total darkness beyond its feeble light.
We haven’t had a nocturnal visitor in several years, but we always try to be very careful. We do put out bird feeders, but bring them in every night at dusk. The seed that spills to the ground we keep raked up and discarded, but something must have still smelled enticing to our furry, black visitor. We keep the trash locked—all the little things that are supposed to discourage the always hungry bear population. Now I need to add the extra step of shining a flashlight under the deck before any middle of the night potty breaks. This will be our routine until the snow falls again, and the bears head off for that long winter’s nap.
The saga doesn’t end there, however; about 11:00 Sunday morning in bright daylight, our visitor decided to pay us a daytime visit! I was opening a new role of power towels, one of those mundane little chores, and Bill was outside chopping weeds when Mandy, our little blind girl, suddenly started barking vigorously. I do think her other senses have heightened since becoming blind; she always seems to hear or smell things before Caley does. All of a sudden, chaos prevailed! Bill yelled, “The bear is back!” Both dogs started carrying on wildly. The bear was climbing the fence. I quickly grabbed my pistol and ran out on the upper deck. I fired a single shot into the air.
It was one of those rare moments when the world stood still for a few seconds. The bear stopped in his climbing of the fence. Both dogs stopped barking and looked around, no doubt wondering what was going on. Even the birds and the ever-chattering squirrels hushed up. Bill, who has a knack for understatement, asked, “Was that you?” At that moment the bear took off across our neighbor’s back yard. Apparently we were too noisy for him.
Since I do most firing of my gun at the shooting range with ear protection on, even I had forgotten just how loud a shot can ring out. It is funny how certain things become so automatic with repetition. Flip off the safety, pull back the slide, and fire. It reminds me of how quickly I could jump into doing CPR for a cardiac arrest situation back in my ICU nursing days. With training, some things just become so programmed into our behaviors that we don’t even have to think about how to do them.
In about an hour though the bear decided to make one more try to get into the yard. Bill yelled at him, and Caley tore down to the back of the yard, barking wildly. At this point I think he decided our house was just way too crazy for a hungry bear. Although a black, furry, three-hundred pound visitor is always a little intimidating, I definitely think that seeing your adversary in bright daylight is preferable to that ominous snorting in the darkness. Beware of “things that go bump in the night!”
