Story Break
The Grizzly.
(About the giant furry bumper car of the wilderness.)
Werewolves are wimps by comparison
T here is no other animal of this country which is more widely and deservedly dreaded than the grizzly bear.
(William Hamilton Gibson, "Camp Life in the Woods and the Tricks of Trapping and Trap Making")
Except possibly the land shark, but those are even rarer and don't have big paws.
Other creatures, when they see a grizzly bear come trundering along, hey, they know the score. It's not like some wombat out there for a slow stroll and a couple of farts after lunch. No. Not at all. It is not funny. At all.
Take your puma, or a random collection of mixed wildcats, for instance, if you don't have a puma handy. Put those up against a grizzly and what? What have you got? It's like pin a kitty on the bear, that's what.
It's like when you take a balloon and rub it on your sweater and then stick it on the resident house cat, and then the cat walks around the house with the balloon hanging there by static electricity. That's it. Get a grizzly bear sauntering along in puma-and-wildcat country picking up some static electricity and you might see half a dozen of them kind of bobbling around, stuck on the grizzly's outer fur.
And the grizzly itself?
What do you think? Does the grizzly have a problem?
No. The grizzly does not have a problem. Doesn't even notice. Grizzlies are like that.
In this corner we have...
Want to corner a grizzly though? Want to do that, really? Think about it first.
Try cornering shoelaces, see what happens. What happens? No one cares. Shoelaces. Who cares? You hardly need them. They just lie there in a pile like cloth noodles, easily ignored, cornered or not.
Get a bag of rats and dump them into a box. That's cornered rats, right? And what happens then?
You got a box of rats, that's what. Action? What action? Rats in a box.
One rat might nibble another one every now and then, but not enough to notice. No fun, no action. Period. Unless you really, really like rats. Most people don't. Not that much. Not really.
Put up a fence in grizzly country and leave it in place for a while. Like a funnel. Like one of those fish traps. You'll see.
Come back later and take a look. See what has drifted into the trap. That's more like it, but don't get too close. "The grizzly, however, or Ephraim, as he is commonly termed by trappers, often displays a most unpleasant readiness to attack and pursue a man, even in the face of fire arms."
This was wrote down in the olden days when manly men went out and did things like putting up a fence to see how many grizzlies they could collect. Collect like deadly fuzz-bunnies in a lint basket. And then, probably, those guys went over and poked through the fence with some sticks or something, to see what would happen, and that's where the readiness to attack and pursue part kicked in.
Old Ephraim ripping the snot out of anything within reach. Out of the fence, out of the people, out of the entire township. And not working up a sweat. Not even. That's your grizzly bear right there.
Forget the fence. Forget the little guys that put it up and stood there snickering and poking with their sticks. They are gone. Long time ago. Shredded. Atomized. The fence too. Everything. Old Ephraim don't take kindly to strangers short on manners.
Creature of the deep wilderness, roaming far and wide, pillaging at will, devouring all it finds, and destroying the rest. This is the grizzly.
You can call it ursus arctos horribilis or ursus arctos middendorffi. Just Grizzly, or Alaskan Brown. No matter, they're really the same beast, the King of Terror. The bear of bears.
Some general rules when you are there.
Don't hike alone or after dark, or wear clothing made of bacon.
Do whistle, sing, or make noise when in grizzly country, but don't be annoying about it.
If a bear hears you it will either move away if not interested, or, alerted, end your puny life in one smooth move by biting your head right off. You probably won't feel a thing unless the bear wants to make an example of you.
Never get between a cub and its mother.
Think about it — why would you want to? Are you dumb as a post hole?
Either of them, cub or mother, are big enough to do you in, the mother especially. Heck, if you even see a cub, let alone an adult grizzly, back off. Way, way back. Try two counties over.
Stay clean. Strawberry-scented shampoo is not a good idea, so simply staying clean is not 100% of the rule.
A grizzly could care less about your armpit smell for example. In fact, armpit smell might even help keep a bear away. You know? (Unless it doesn't.)
Referring to the meat reference in item one though, the next best way to catch a bear's attention, other than actually wearing bacon, is having bacon grease in your beard, on your lips, or in your hair. Don't give a grizzly any reason to come over for a hot kiss or even an exploratory lick, OK?
Don't sleep in the clothes you cook and eat in, especially if you are a sloppy cook and a messy eater.
Instead try this — If you do have clothes that smell like food, just leave them on and hang yourself with your food from a high tree overnight, at least 15 feet (5 m) above ground and 10 feet (3 m) out from the tree's main trunk. This way you're safe and can have snacks all night too.
A couple of caveats though: Hanging by your thumbs may cause cramping after several hours. And hanging by your neck, though it is pretty secure, can induce nasal congestion and result in breathing difficulties.
When sleeping in the backcountry remember that a tent can keep you more protected than sleeping in the open.
Unless the grizzlies in those parts know that tents have food sleeping inside them.
So, given that, keep a flashlight and a noisemaker handy, and know how to use them. A grizzly likes nothing better than some idiot shining a light in its eyes and making a godawful nasty racket when it enters a tent around midnight.
It may even be so well disposed toward you that it bites your head off first, sparing you the unpleasantness of having to watch your legs get chewed off before the bear even bothers with your head. If it does.
Do not approach a grizzly to get a picture of it.
Even less, do not try to stand the bear up for a group shot with your hiking buddies. Grizzlies are notoriously camera-shy. For a reason. No grizzly has ever seen itself in a photo without thinking that its butt looked too big.
So keep the funny hats for parties at home and don't try putting them on the bears.
According to the National Park Service, if you run into a grizzly it is your fault. Period.
Apologize, be humble, avoid eye contact, talk softly and back away slowly. Do not attempt to argue with the bear or to challenge it. No matter what the circumstances, you are at fault. Immediately turn yourself in at the nearest ranger station.
Say you are hopping mad that some reeking hulk has cut you off without even glancing your way first. Right. You know how this works. There it is, waddling along as if it owns the whole damn trail, completely oblivious to anything and everything, kind of mindlessly dawdling and weaving around, and meanwhile you are trying to get somewhere. So you ram it.
Bad move.
If a park ranger sees you do this you will get a ticket. Grizzlies always have the right of way, on trails or off, so pay attention.
Share. If a grizzly takes a fancy to your backpack, give it up. Let the bear have it. You can always get another one.
Despite centuries of trying, grizzlies have never learned how to ask politely for things they need or want. They grab. They can't help it. It's compulsive or something.
This is true.
Those massive, clumsy paws full of claws like railway spikes, and those mouths full of teeth like scythes? It's all they have to work with.
There is only so much subtlety and nuance you can wring from a body like this. No fine motor skills at all. Which could be why grizzlies dismember first and regret later. Often many years later, long after it is too late. Write this down.
Also, keep in mind how many times you have seen a grizzly hiking along wearing a backpack. Just about never, right?
Very few packs ever made will fit a grizzly, or even come close, so when a grizzly does find one that it can delude itself into thinking just might possibly be somewhere near the right size, it gets so excited that it grabs, without thinking. Normally the bear even forgets about trying to ask, or about starting a polite conversation before working up to the real subject.
Hey. A grizzly may even be so overcome with joy at finding a good pack that it accidentally converts the pack into a cloud of small fabric particles. This is totally, totally embarrassing.
Intense shame and self-loathing may drive the grizzly to blindly run you down, on the chance that you will forget what you witnessed.
Or the bear may just be pissed in general. That happens too.
Either way, your day turns to crap.
Just sayin'.