Due to my car battery’s decision to enter early retirement, Adam came up yesterday to swap it out and spend a quick night. It might have made more sense to call someone local to fix it, but with “hottest day of the year” temps in Connecticut and humidity to match, it didn’t take any convincing for him to point his truck north. We had a really great night, blink of an eye that it was, and I was grateful he insisted on helping.
He left early this morning, well before first birdsong or light. Not able to get back to sleep, I lay listening for that first permissive tweet that signifies it’s time for me to get up, too. After some time, still waiting on the birds to rise but noticing there was now a hint of light, I heard louder than expected footsteps outside. This was not the pitter-patter scurry of chipmunks or squirrels. There was some heft behind these feet. And then, that oh-so-familiar exhale through the nose sound. I knew the animal before I sat up, but what I did not expect was to look out the window and see a sprite young bear cub flexing her independence, sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs by the fire pit. Although the campfire is a dozen feet away, the chair she chose was about eight feet from the screened window, from behind which I watched. She was flopped into the chair, all rounded and a little unsure, but looking pleased as all get out. I was sure mom waited just beyond the treeline, but this wee one was proud and curious to be exploring our area. Because even though we do not leave food around, and we compost hundreds of feet away, we are here and they know it. There is a lot to check out. Or at the very least, really comfy chairs to goof off in.
I watched her silhouette for a minute, wishing I could watch longer, but knowing that I needed to send the message that it was time to carry on with her bad self. So I did what any self-respecting human would do: I grabbed two sticks that I keep tucked in the corner of the camper and placing them in perfect “X” formation, banged them together over and over… kidding! I just really wanted to reference this. What I actually did was far less dramatic because the last thing I wanted to do was excite or scare the little thing, or more so, mama. So, a couple of quick hand claps and she fled into the trees without argument. Kinda felt bad for wrecking her moment, but I’m sure she would have done the same if I made myself at home in her camp. I waited ten minutes longer, then went outside to get the coffee going. Just as the first birdsong moved through the air.