The Value of Life

I have often heard that "all life is valuable." I am far too ignorant a philosopher to begin unpacking that statement nor do I dare set foot in the sea of religion for surely I would tread water and slowly begin to sink. So I'll stick with what I'm good at...biology.

It is an unmistakable fact that every second of our existence animals die.

There are billions of life forms on this wonderful planet of ours and each one serves a purpose. Sometimes that purpose is born out in brilliant clarity, oftentimes though it remains obscure or disregarded. Regardless of the mark, nature is interminable. From death is born life. To put this in biological terms, there is a perfect cycle that remains constant and unbroken, with each trophic level living because of the sacrifices of the one below. It is the ever-poetic "circle of life".

To put it plainly, nothing in nature goes to waste. If an animal dies, it mostly likely brings life to another, though almost assuredly in different form. This is the fascination that make most biologists tick, striving to understand and perpetuate the intricate web that we call an ecosystem. This is why so often, biologists appears harsh in their determination of the life or death of individuals animals. It is because the whole feeds the system and is therefore, more important. Thus, individuals play a insignificant role when considering the entire populations (species).

But, from a biological standpoint, when do individuals count?

Obviously when the whole is so grossly distorted that each individual is necessary for the existence of the species. For example, a few decades ago California condor numbers dipped to a precarious low of 22 animals. Each and every condor mattered, each individual held tremendous value.

But what about animals that are in no apparent danger and whose overall numbers are growing?

In biological terms, that individual appear to hold less value. And biologically speaking it may...

BUT...

...what if that single individual animal can raise the awareness and consciousness of the most impactful and detrimental species known to earth?

To possibly make them more informed...

more responsible...

and more concerned...

about the wonderful web in which we live. 

That is a value that simply can not be measured.

Milo is Not Alone

One would think trapping bears in a half-acre pen would be quite simple...a drop-door trap, some tasty treats, a few quiet hours and voila, caged bear on a platter. Oh no, no, no...life could never be quite so simple. Yet, so goes the life of a curator at the ABR.

Much like recent events, 1997 was a busy year for orphaned cubs. A mast failure in early fall brought in a large influx of cubs over a very short period of time. The natural foods were poured on, the cubs thrived, and before we knew it we had a bevy of fat, healthy young bears that needed release. The trapping process commenced.

In the early days of the bear center equipment wasn't quite as sophisticated as it is nowadays. There were no cub enclosures or acclimation pens that had drop-door systems. These are systems where a door can be dropped by hand when a bear entered the baited area. Rather, the center owned one large hav-a-hart-style trap that was used to catch each and every bear. The trap was about the size of an extra large dog carrier and was constructed of heavy gauge wire fencing. Toward the back of the cage was a footpad that was connected to the door system. Once the footpad was depressed, the door dropped down and two metal fasteners latched in place to secure it closed. When a bear was trapped, it was then carried by hand, trap and all, up to the maintenance building where it was transferred into a confinement cage until its release. This allowed us to take the trap back down to the wild enclose in preparation for trapping the next bear. As one can imagine, trying to trap a dozen bears might take a little bit of time. I never knew exactly how long that "little bit" was actually going to take.

The trapping process is quite simple... reduce the amount of food available to the bears, place some of that food within the trap, and wait. Usually within a few hours I would hear the telltale bawling of a young bear that found himself in an unsettling predicament. That's how it went until, the trap-wary bear came along (I'm afraid my memory fails me and I'm afraid to guess the wrong name).

I had trapped and released (along with TWRA and the NPS) a slew of fattened cubs but one remained with us, much to my chagrin. He was the last of the mast failure cubs and by all estimates he was well over 50 lbs. In other words, he needed out of there, but unfortunately he had the propensity to avoid the food-laden trap.

Though he proved elusive over the main trapping event, since he was the only bear left in the enclosure, I was fairly certain I'd be able to trap him within a short period of time. My strategy was simple... cease all food application except for what was used in the baited end of the trap. His growling tummy would certainly be his downfall.

The food stopped and the waiting began.

I half expected not to catch this trap-wary bear within the first few days since there was probably ample forage left behind from the recently vacated bears. Soon enough the "good stuff", which included fresh fruit and acorns, would be consumed and he would be relegated to eating "salad". In other words he'd just have leaves left to eat and who in their right mind prefers to only eat lettuce. (Sorry, this writer's tummy too begins to growl every once in a while.)

About a week had passed and I still hadn't trapped him. I was certain there wasn't much left for him to eat in the main enclosure, so I baited the trap with some of the juiciest fruit I had acquired from the grocery store. And I waited some more.

Days passed and I still had no bear.

It appeared as though the food in the trap was disappearing but I attributed it to rogue squirrels. I needed something more tempting for him. I needed him to want the food so badly he wouldn't let a feisty rogue squirrel scavenge his treat.

Bring on the donuts.

After a quick trip to the bakery a dozen donuts was securely held under my arm as I made my way back down to the bear pen. I proceeded to bait trap with ten of the most delectable delights you had ever seen (Yes, I said ten, after all what's good for a bear is good for a curator!).

The trap was now set. In the morning I would have my bear.

In the morning I had no bear.

And I had no donuts to boot!

Some dang animal snuck in and stole my bait!

I tried the donut option again, and again I failed. It was now time to play dirty...I was bringing out the BACON.

Let me tell you, if you think a starving curator deserves one-sixth of the donuts I assure you he deserves much more of the bacon! Fortunately there was enough left after I tested its worthiness that a healthy, or should I say unhealthy, amount of bacon lay at the back of the baited trap.

Within hours the bacon was gone.

Yet I had no bear.

This routine went on for a number of days and my frustration grew. Weeks had now passed and the Park Service was asking to release their last bear.

The gloves came off.

Not only was I going to tie the strips of bacon to the floor, I was going to stuff donuts full of bacon, and add them to the pile at the back of the cage. A nice trail of fruit leading the way was sure to make this offering absolutely irresistible. Knowing that this tasty treat could not be resisted for long I decided to stay in the blind and watch the show.

He was perched in his usual pine. Within minutes of sitting quietly, I watched as his nose went to work.

At first his head lifted, his muzzle bobbed a few times displaying the tell-tale sniffing motion, and his neck strained reaching to savor the irresistible aroma of donuts and bacon. After a long drawn-out pause he decided the coast was clear and began to amble down the tree, soon disappearing into the brush. After about twenty minutes of nothingness he reappeared, not far from the trap. He slowly made his way forward, closer and closer to his demise.

Surprisingly he was not interested in the fresh fruit that lay scattered at the front of the trap. His mind was made up, he was going in!

Before stepping a single foot inside the trap he stopped. It was almost as if he was sizing it up. Fortunately he was just an animal and knew not what lay before him.

I was finally about to exact my revenge.

He moved forward and placed his first foot within the trap. This was soon followed by the second. He moved cautiously knowing something was up but his nose was in charge. Another eighteen inches and he would be triggering the footpad.

He inched closer and closer.

Twelves inches.

Six inches.

One inch...Soon the next step would be the footpad and I would have him!

I actually believe I started salivating. My nemesis was about to be ensnared.

He paused.

He then looked side to side within the trap, his prized bacon-filled donuts a mere foot-and-a-half from his snout.... just beyond the footpad. He looked down.

What the heck was he doing?

I watched in disbelieving horror as the son-of-a-gun placed his left paw on the side of the cage. This was soon followed with his right paw. He then creeped his way forward using leverage by extending his arms on both sides of the cage. In an instant his back legs did the same and he crept forward in alternating unison to keep his body suspended.

I watched in utter amazement as he was HOVERING over the footpad....

...his head dipped low eating my bacon-filled donuts!

My frustrations flitted. As I watched, I was almost inclined to applaud for his acrobatic technique was flawless.

And then it happened.

He slipped.

And his rear paw came down and caught the footpad.

Immediately he knew the jig was up and with incredible speed he lunged backward feverishly trying to extricate himself from the cage. Fortunately the door swung down and whacked him on his derrière (much to my satisfying delight).

He shot forward and the door locked in place.

Milo's great great great grandfather was finally trapped!

******************

These animals continue to amaze me, not only through their remarkably keen senses but through their ingenuity and their well-above average intelligence. As much as bears tend to learn from us, I must admit, I have learned far more from them. And for that, I am grateful.

Go Away Bear! (Enter the Bear - Part 5)

The low burning embers cast just enough light to silhouette the small metal pot of boiling water containing the Ramen. Even with the chicken seasoning added my Polish protuberance could barely detect the aroma emanating from the soup but I needn't worry. If there was a bear within a mile from camp, he, or she, would smell it. But just to add that extra gooey temptation, I opened the jar of crunchy peanut butter and gathered a hefty scoop. If this was going to be my last meal at least I was going to go out having savored a tasty treat.

I was in the midst of enjoying myself although the trek to the campsite turned out to be quite an ordeal. Not only did we take a wrong turn and double the length of our hike but I found out my trusted army buddy was a tad bit afraid of the dark. Hold on...I take that back. Bill may not have been afraid of the dark. He may have been afraid of bears, or "sick-a-whats", or possibly even the growing possibility of being strangled by his girlfriends cousin-in-law. Regardless of what it was, he sat almost motionless on a log across from me, occasionally wiping the sweat of his brow in a red handkerchief...stick and pepper spray steadfastly gripped tightly in his hands.

The occasional twig snap that pierced through the din of the cicadas had Bill on edge. I briefly entertained the thought of fooling with him by discreetly pitching a few rocks by our tent to make him think a bear was ambling about but the vision of a whirling dervish indiscriminately blasting pepper spray in every direction quickly erased that thought. If he was on edge now I could only imagine how tense he'd be lying in the tent after the fire's glow faded away. No, I best let him try to relax, the man did serve our country so I owed him that much.

The soup was...well, the soup was Ramen, the bland unhearty meal of almost all starving young college students. For some reason Bill wasn't too hungry so I ate his portion as well as mine. Did I mention I was going to make the most of my last meal?

The bear up to this point was a no-show.

I began to ponder whether this was a good thing or bad. If it were to show, it'd be good if it showed while we were wide awake and had all our faculties about us. I had no doubt we could handle ourselves when all of our senses were buzzing. On the other hand if the bear came into camp while both of us were asleep, well...I don't even want to think about those scenarios. Much like my dad's sage advice about walking in the woods at night, "you alone account for almost all your fears, so its no use trying to scare yourself." In other words, don't let your mind get the best of you.

After a quick clean-up and a well-deserved stretch, the first yawn almost came on cue. It's no wonder...it was almost approaching midnight.

*****************

"You ready to turn-in?" I asked Bill.

"You think the bear's gonna come in?" he replied, ignoring my question.

"Dunno." I muttered. "You gonna be able to sleep?"

"Oh yeah, no problem," he replied, his bravado returning to his voice. "This is nothing compared to what I used to do."

"I know Bill...I know."

*****************

Since the thermostat was still set somewhere between sweltering and uncomfortable I didn't bother crawling into my sleeping bag. Rather, I laid on top and scrunched up a sweatshirt as a make-shift pillow. Bill was still outside as I crawled into the mini A-frame. For a moment I thought he'd post watch but as soon as he realized I was no longer sitting with him, he suddenly yawned and got tired. I had no more than finished lying my head on my "pillow" when Bill squeezed his way to join me in the tent.

"Tight in here," he said.

"Yep...but gotta make do with what we got," I replied.

"How do you want me to lay?" he asked.

There was silence as I contemplated this question, scrambling to decipher the meaning. Did he mean face-to-face, head-to-toe? Oh my gosh, If spooning even crossed his mind I swear I was gonna kick him outta the tent altogether.

"Lay however you want," I murmured, hoping he would get the hint that I'd soon be fast asleep.

And fortunately I was...

...and a short time later, my worst nightmare came true.

*****************

The bear was as threatening and as menacing as my subconscious fears. He came in slow like a sinister rolling fog, an ominous creeping black shadow. 

The faint glow of the coals silhouetted the bear that was now between the tent and the campfire. He looked massive. I prayed his size was due to an optical illusion from my vantage point. Not too often does one look "up" at a bear but given my head was three inches from the ground that was the only perspective I had. I was literally paralyzed to move.

The stout male had his nose pressed firmly to the ground intent on letting his olfactory sense lead him to his evening's nourishment. I could see dirt and leaf debris fly outward from his muzzle with each powerful exhale from his over zealous snout. It was astounding how he retraced my steps. He not only located where I sat down to eat my mostly liquid meal (had I spilled a few drops?) but he thoroughly examined the exact spot on the log where the jar of peanut butter sat only hours before.

I almost let out an audible gasp when he placed his paw upon a mailbox-sized rock that outlined the exterior edge of the fire ring. Not only did the black hairy paw resemble a dinner plate with claws but a mere flick of his wrist sent the 50-pound stone rolling away as if a semi-weightless balloon. He licked the ground at whatever he found interesting beneath where the rock had lain. 

I didn't realize it at the time but I was literally holding my breath. I subconsciously feared the bear would hear my breathing, if not my pounding heartbeat. What the heck was I to do?

Before I could think, the bear focused his attention on something off to my right. As he ambled by he was close enough for me to hear his silent footfalls, though I'm sure I didn't hear them...I felt them.

He paused, but a mere six feet from the tent where I lay. The object that drew his fancy was now clenched between the two powerful claws of his forelimbs. I strained my eyes deliberately trying not to move so I could see what he had found.  It was Bill's sweat-soaked handkerchief!

Incredulously I watched as the bear lowered his beach ball-sized head to the damp red sweat rag Bill had used.

At first he nuzzled it...then he drank in its smells.

His deep audible respirations growing more and more intense. Almost as if he was getting worked up. 

A string of saliva seeped from his lower jaw, dangling like threaded lace. 

A pit formed in my stomach thinking about the possibility that the bear's excited state was simply a Pavlovian response. Was the sweat soaked rag akin to a dinner bell?

Horrific thoughts began racing through my head.

What was I to do? Before I knew it I was instinctively fumbling for the pepper spray. It had to be close by. I had no light within the tent. I looked downward and strained my eyes half expecting to miraculously be granted night vision. I began to panic and fumbled around some more less wary of my movements or any sounds I may have made. I was now breathing rapidly. 

As I was about to wake Bill my greatest fear was coming true.

A light bulge formed on the silky thin fabric of the tent. 

It slowly pressed forward and much to my utter terror created the perfect outline of the bear's husky snout. That's when the sound broke my will...

...it was the sound of the bear's deep and lustful inhale.

Instinctively I screamed at the top of my lungs...."GO AWAY BEAR!!...Go!....Get Outta Here!!! GO AWAY!!!!"

***********************

All was quiet as my faculties gradually returned. 

I lie still as the synapses at my nerve endings performed their only duty and my brain functions slowly awakened. Though I was becoming "aware" the only visible portion of my body that moved were my eyelids. I blinked a few times then focused on opening my eyes fully.

The sun had risen and there was a moist dew blanketing the inside of the bright green tent. The cicadas had quieted and had it not been for a few nearby sparrows looking for love it would have been strangely quiet.

What the heck was going on?

I laid motionless trying to piece together the terrifying events of the night before. Then it all registered and the overwhelming relief of realizing it was all just a dream swept through my body. The fact that I was still alive and no worse-for-wear was almost zen-like and I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

Then my eyes shot wide open as a fleeting memory kept dancing in my head. 

The last thing I distinctly remembered was shouting "Go Away Bear!" at the top of my lungs. Gosh...it seemed so unbelievably real.

Then it dawned on me....

"Occasionally" I have a bad habit of talking in my sleep.

Have you ever have the notion you did something really bad the night before but couldn't quite remember it? It was as if I was reliving my early college years. 

Could I have?

No...surely I didn't.

Did I?

Now I wasn't so sure.

I still hadn't moved...but it was time I asked Bill.

I rolled over...

*******************

I'll never forget how white and pasty he looked, all curled-up in the corner of that bright green tent. He was sitting Indian-style, arms folded over his tightly crossed legs, nervously rocking back and forth. His bulging eyes rivaled a surprised Marty Feldman. I don't think he blinked the whole time he was eyeing me up. 

Clenched in his right hand was still the can of pepper spray and in his left, you guessed it...the stick. A bead of sweat poured down his cheek...at least I think it was sweat.

"Mornin'!" I said with a shy smile.

He stared.

I just had to come out and ask.

"Bill...did I ummm...did I happen to talk in my sleep last night."

"YOU'RE GODDAM RIGHT YOU DID!!!" 

Well...it sounded like a reasonable answer so at least I assumed he wasn't in shock.

"Ummm...Did I happen to mention a bear?"

Once again...he not-so-politely assured me I was correct.

"Well..." I was about to tell him of my dream but he interrupted, "I didn't sleep a wink last night! Kept lookin' for that gosh darn bear!"

It was no use trying to explain.

"You wanna head down and get off this mountain?"

Not surprisingly, Bill led the way

******************************

Needless to say, the night at campsite #10 was uneventful, at least from a real bear standpoint. The Park reopened the site, I went back to feeding orphaned black bear cubs, and Bill....well, Bill went back to jumping out of really slow moving vehicles since he retired from the Army. Twenty years have passed and he has yet to return to visit us. Dang...I'm starting to miss him.

Go Away Bear! (Darkness Falls - Part 4)

"YOU TOOK US IN A CIRCLE!?" Bill yelled somewhat questioningly.

"Yup."

I couldn't help but smile knowing my distance instincts were correct in that we turned off the trail a bit too soon.

"My bad," I smiled.

I could see the disappointment in Bill's sweat-soaked face. The faded orange tank top he was wearing must have weighed at least a half-pound with all the perspiration it gathered.

As he spoke the last ray of sunlight had succumbed to the setting twilight.

"Dammit...I really wanted to do that bear thing too!" Bill exclaimed with a somewhat dejected voice.

"Oh no worries, we're doing it," I said as I reached into the side pocket of my pack and removed two headlamps.

"But it's dark out!" Bill hastily reminded me, his eyes widening.

"Ummm, yeah...that's what happens when the sun goes down," I gleefully added with another smile.

Ha....I was now truly beginning to enjoy myself!

Bill started, "But it's..."

"Dark out....I know," I said. "That's what the lights are for. Man...I would've thought flashlight were standard issue in the Army. They really need to provide more equipment for you guys...especially if you have to jump out of a plane AT NIGHT."

I was really enjoying myself now.

Though night hiking wasn't my preferred mode of travel my Dad taught me at early age that, "the only thing in the woods that'll hurt you is yourself." Of course I would not let the thought that we grew up in an area that had NO BEARS cross my mind. Anyway, I knew the darkness was just a minor inconvenience, we had a job to do and I wasn't going to mess up my first assignment due to a slight miscalculation. Plus...I had be there for Bill, he needed me.

*************

As we strode passed the jeep I lightly tapped on the hood and exhaled "Lap 1!"

Bill didn't find it funny.

I stopped and turned to Bill, his face now illuminated by the glow of my headlamp. I could see the look of concern in his eyes. "It'll be fine Bill, I swear. I'll lead, just stay at my heels."

"Well how come you have a weapon and I don't?"

I could only assume he was referring to my hiking stick.

"Tell you what...if you reach into the top pouch of my pack, there's a big ol' can of bear spray if it'll make ya' feel any better."

He had the can out before I was able to turn completely around.

"You feel better now?" I asked.

"How 'bout the stick?" he replied. "You know, since I'll be in the rear I'll need to protect our backside."

At this point I was beginning to doubt he'd ever head back up the mountain so I was willing to give him whatever would get his backside moving forward.

"Sure....you can have my stick too."

Woohoo!...we were finally moving!

*****************

The trek uphill wasn't nearly as bad the second time around, it had now cooled to a frigid 78 degrees Fahrenheit. My sweat-filled shirt was at least keeping me cool if it wasn't weighing me down. The narrow beam of light from my headlamp created the classic feeling of tunnel vision and I soon found myself in a rhythm of placing one foot in front of the other, carrying myself up the trail. I'm sure Bill, somewhere behind me found the same rhythm.

At about the thirty minute mark, I knew we'd be approaching the point where we made a wrong turn. I turned on my heel to yell back to Bill and as I pirouetted my nose almost hit his nose. I almost yelled in terror seeing his brightly illuminated face a mere three inches from mine.

"Cheese and Rice Bill!!!" I yelled with a start. "You scared the crap outta me...can you get any closer??"

"I'm protecting your backside man!" he shot back.

"By crawling up in it???" I retorted.

"Sorry...I didn't want us to get separated," he responded like a scolded child.

"I'm sorry Bill...you just startled me, I didn't expect you to be that close. Anyway... when you go Ninja with that stick make sure you're far enough away so I don't get caught in that backswing of yours, ok?"

I think the thought of him going Ninja pleased him and he smiled. He seemed to get a little boost from that and backed up another three full inches.

We continued on.

**************

We passed the point where we turned off on "Lap 1" and wouldn't you know it, the real turn off wasn't but 100 yards further up the trail. Funny thing, not only was the next trail just as wide and as well-marked as the first trail but there was a nifty sign in the crossroad that said, "Campsite #10" accompanied by a big right-facing arrow. Ah...the simple joy of being on the right track!

The next 30-minute climb was uneventful as the trail was a slow and steady progression uphill. All the while Bill remained poised and ready at this stick. He was still a bit closer to me than I preferred since my greatest fear was flushing an unknown animal at close range causing Bill to react and start karate chopping. I couldn't shake the vision in my head of tomorrow's headlines, "Manager of bear center accidentally struck dead when grouse flushes from underfoot." I think that was most fearful I have ever been of a six-inch bird.

Thankfully the bird never flushed and the stick never swung.

We finally arrived in camp shortly after 10:00 p.m. I was more than happy to release the pack from my shoulders and take a much-needed break.

As I looked around with the feeble light of my headlamp, the camp was exactly how I wished it wasn't...a small level clearing completely engulfed within a wall of rhododendron. The cicadas were now buzzing to the point of having to yell to Bill simply so he could hear me.

"LETS GO AHEAD AND PITCH CAMP!"

I ordered Bill. I kind of felt bad taking the role of commander but I feared that was the only way I was going to get him (and me) off the mountain alive.

As we worked diligently in natures din to set up the tent and start the fire it dawned on me...

...a bear could walk five feet away from us and we'd never hear nor see it.

(To Be Continued...)

Go Away Bear! (The Trail - Part 3)

A typical Smokies trail...beautiful but thick!

We pulled into the parking lot at the base of the trailhead. There was one other car, but as we pulled in, they pulled out.

"Hmmm...this bear sure did a heckuva job scaring everyone away." I thought to myself.

This area is usually packed given its proximity to the Cove, a popular tourist destination within the Park. Oh well, at least I don't have to worry about someone messin' with my jeep while I'm on the trail (Yeah... I know, I know... but the self-rationalization helps me cope.)

I ease into the parking space, kill the engine and turn to Bill.

"You ready?"

"Yeah man I can't wait to get out there."

"Well, we got a 3-mile hike to campsite #10 and about an hour and a half of daylight left so we better get a move on." I said as I began unloading the gear.

The "gear" wasn't much to speak of... the few camping supplies I dug up, some Ramen Pride noodles, a jar of peanut butter (for added aromas of course), a few extra sweatshirts, the necessary toiletry items (fine... it was just one and it came in a roll in case of an emergency), a fresh can of bear spray, a trail map, and a brand new shiny bright green Hasbro camping tent...all tucked neatly away in my tattered old red back pack. 

My trusty ol' walking stick.

The only other item joining us on our journey was my trusty old walking stick. It was one of the first things I carved when I arrived in my new Tennessee home and I only brought it out on special occasions. No...there was nothing too sentimental about it. It was a rather large and quite heavy piece of wood, I figured it might come in handy this trip, if not for walking then at least for fending off a nosy crotchety old bear in the middle of the night.

I hoisted the pack on my back, gripped my faithful walking stick and turned to Bill. 

He was standing there in his faded orange tank top and blue-jean shorts...hands in his pockets.

Hmmm...I shoulda rethunk this distribution of weight. Oh well, he IS on vacation, I convinced myself. I might as well let him enjoy himself.

"So where to?" Bill asked.

"Good question," I responded. "Do me a favor? Reach into the outside pocket of my pack and hand me the Park map. I gotta see where this campsite is, I've never been there before."

"When we jumped outta planes we didn't use maps. We just followed our commander."

I stopped myself short of telling Bill that it was an almost certainty that his commander probably carried a map or at least knew exactly where the heck he was going. I on the other hand, did not.

"Just hand me the bloody map Bill," I said with a feigned smile and the best British accent I could muster.

I looked at the map and it appeared to be a simple trek. We were to follow the trail before us for about a mile and a half, it would then intersect with another trail, we'd then need to make a right and follow that trail for another mile and a half and voilà...we would arrive at campsite #10.

The only thing concerning me was wondering if we would make camp before dark. Finishing the 3-mile hike in just over an hour wouldn't normally have been a problem but the entire trek was a steep uphill climb. Though Bill was in peak physical form, a true military specimen I might add, I myself enjoyed my Snickers every once in awhile. In other words, I was going to take my time and enjoy the hike...especially since I was the one carrying all the gear.

I had Bill tuck the map back into my pack and off we went.

***************

The trail was well-marked and heavily travelled. Though I'd like to say there were gorgeous views and remarkable vistas along the way, those are few and far between in Eastern forests. Don't get me wrong, there are truly amazing sites to see, but hiking in the Smokies often involves long stretches of rhododendron thickets. Until you break free of them, your visibility is pretty limited so "seeing the sights" wasn't going to be the highlight of this trip. 

Limited visibility also tends to fool your ability to keep track of distance, fortunately for us we knew distance could be roughly calculated by speed. In other words, if you know how fast you walk , you roughly know how far you walk. A standard "easy" pace is about three miles an hour, so if things worked out, in about a half an hour we'd come to the first intersection, a solid one and a half miles in.

Fifteen minutes in I was already dripping. 

You always hear people say, "it's not the heat, it's the humidity"....believe it. Humidity bites. It retains heat. Earlier in the day, it had been in the high 80s. Now that the sun was setting it "cooled off" and was now settling in in the low 80s, with an overnight low expected in the upper 70s. Why the heck did I bring extra sweatshirts for us? Well...at least they'd make good pillows.

We were now closing in on the twenty-minute mark, the first mile should be in the books.

"Where's that crossroad we're supposed to come to?" said Bill, who was leading the way. "We must've walked three miles by now."

"I think it's still be up a little ways." I replied.

"Well if it is, your map is wrong. We're at least three miles in," he muttered. I could sense a little sweat-induced frustration in his voice.

"Just take a right at the first crossroad we come to, if I remember correctly, it's the only other trail we'll encounter. We should be coming to it soon," I said, in hopes of boosting his spirits.

Sure enough, we rounded the next bend and there was the next trail, a little less travelled and definitely less distinct than the main trail but a trail sure enough.

"Want me to lead?" I said, pointing out the fact that the sun was fading fast.

"Sure," said Bill, "...what the hell's that noise anyway?"

Up to that point in time I didn't realize how numb I became to the sound of cicadas. This was a big hatch year and their call was louder than normal, but it was also the sound that put me to sleep each night since I slept with the windows open. I could only imagine what a "northerner" thought of the sounds of the Deep South. The funny thing is, I was that northerner only a year prior but I had quickly fallen in love with my adopted home.

"They're cicadas Bill."

"Sick-a-whats?"

"Ci-ca-das... they're big harmless noisy flies," I said. "They won't hurt you, I promise."

"Oh I'm not afraid, you know I used to..."

"Yeah, I know Bill...I know."

*****************

Though the second trail wasn't as wide, we found the going much easier. The "uphill" leveled out considerably and it felt as if we were walking on fairly level ground. I imagined we were simply following along the contour of the mountain.

It was fun. 

We even began to enjoy ourselves. 

Listening to nature's chorus, breathing in the thick, humid but oh-so clean air, and taking in the gorgeous rays of the setting sun. This was going to be a great adventure after all.

The hike was progressing wonderfully... but then the downhill became quite disconcerting.

To my recollection, there wasn't supposed to be a downhill, at least one not so continuous.

First five minutes of downhill passed, then ten, then suddenly...

"What the hell is that!" Bill bellowed.

With a deep sigh, I responded, "That, my friend...is my jeep."

(To Be Continued...)

Go Away Bear! (Gearing Up - Part 2)

"Hey Bill!....You up for some of that bear work you wanted to do?"

"You bet I am! You need me to get my 'chute?"

"No… I don't think that'll be necessary but we will need to gather a few things."

"You do know that I used to ju..."

"Yeah...I know Bill, I know."

***************

Truth be told I was quite glad to have Bill around at that time. I was just given my first "bear" assignment in the National Park and my job was quite literally to act as "bait" to see if an aggressive bear was still hanging around one of the back country campsites.

As I was contemplating the task at hand, in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but think about that wise old adage, "If you ever get chased by a bear, you don't have to out run the bear…you just have to out run the slowest person there." I have no doubt that Bill, in his highly-conditioned military state, was much faster and more nimble than me, but then again I had no qualms about tripping people. After all he wasn't really a part of the family, at least not yet, so people couldn't get too mad at me...could they? Anyway, I was comforted by the fact that brains always out match braun and for that simple reason I was feeling a lot better about this trip.

I began to gather the meager camping supplies I had collected over the years. Unfortunately, salaries for budding wildlife biologists are what some might call scant to non-existent so side item toys and luxuries weren't a high priority thus far in my life. There are things much more important to a young naïve twenty-something year old...like bread and milk and of course, beer. As you could imagine, earning just over $100 a week, my trips to REI and Cabelas were about as frequent as Haley's comet. Actually I shouldn't say that since Haley's comet did come around once when I was eight years old and I had yet to step foot in either store. 

The tiny pile of camping gear I had gathered wasn't nearly as depressing as I thought it would be. In fact, I was actually quite pleased at the cute little mound...a few worn out sleeping bags, some half-rusted cooking utensils, a couple of flashlights, some rope, and an old tattered red backpack. What more could a man destined for the woods ask for? The only thing I was truly lacking was a tent.

Dadgummit...that was a rather important detail.

Oh well...off to Wally World we went! (I didn't even consider the other two camping stores since all the extra moolah I had laying around totaled a mere $17 and whatever change was buried deep in the ashtray of my Jeep. REI and Cabelas would just have to wait!)

An hour later my hopes were almost squashed at Wally World. Much to my chagrin, the nice spacious, made in Hong Kong, four-man tents sold for a whopping $24.99, an easy seven dollars more than I had to my name (I only found 38 cents in the dadgum ashtray!). Think Daryl, think!

The toy section!

Picture if you will a child's play tent very much like you would imagine in a cartoon. 

It was gorgeous...bright green, A-frame, two wooden poles to hold up the peak on each end, and four plastic stakes to hold down the corners. I am sure if Bill and I stretched completely out, our heads and our feet would stick out equally on both ends. At least death from a bear will come quickly.

Now back to the house to finish packing for daylight was burning.

Upon arriving back home I was greeted by a National Park Service truck idling in my driveway. Mr. Stiver (aka Bill, but a good Bill) had stopped by to pick something up from the bear center and to wish me well. (Note to self: If asked to do some "bear work" and a seasoned veteran of such work stops by to "wish you well"... just go fishing instead.)

Now that I think about, Mr. Stiver's opening question to me didn't really boost my confidence that afternoon. I can still hear his words as if it were only yesterday…

"So Kim is REALLY sending you up to campsite #10?"

"Ummm...yeah....is there somethin' I should know?"

"Well considering the bear was getting into people's tents while they were sleeping, I'm surprised he's sending you up so soon. He was actually pretty aggressive, even grabbed a guy by the boot. Anyway...hope you have a good tent."

"Yep...brand spanking new!" I said, with a bead of sweat trickling down my temple. "Is there anything else I should know about...or do while I'm up there? ...besides not get eaten?" I said, with a forced laugh.

"Well, I'm sure Kim wants you to simulate a real camping experience so it would be good to cook up a meal and get some aromas floatin' in the air. If the bear is still in the area he'll be sure to come in. Other than that...be careful!"

"Thank you sir. I appreciate the info AND the dutiful warning."

"Oh...and don't forget your pepper spray!"

And with that Mr. Stiver hopped in his truck and was off.

***********************

By this time, it was now approaching 5:00 p.m. This meant there was less than four hours left of daylight and we still had to drive to the trailhead and hike up to the campsite...an easy three-hour endeavor.

With added urgency, Bill and I finished loading the gear, bid our women farewell and hopped in the jeep for our first, and hopefully not last, bear adventure. If all went well we would have about an hour of daylight left to set up camp.

But when does everything ever go as planned?

(To Be Continued...)