Bear-foot Phobia

There is a famous Australian
children’s show
who’s theme song goes –
‘There’s a Bear in there, and a chair as well.’
I would speculate that
a chair is a handy thing to have
if you enter a room
containing a bear!
Better he chews on the chair –
than you.

All of which now reminds me –

Two places there are
where I don’t like to see bears:
in captivity –
and in the same space I intend to occupy.

No, I’m not talking
about Teddy Bears on beds;
or Winnie the Pooh lying abandoned
on the nursery room floor.

I feel sad for real bears in captivity –
caged, restrained,
pointed at,
gawked and mocked.
Taught anthropomorphized antics
to entertain us –
cruel masters we.

But I’m also not too keen
on the other situation either.

I don’t mean bears in Yellowstone
– I’ve never been there anyway –
being fed by stupid tourists
opening their car windows
to share junk food,
and loosing hands and arms
to hungry ursine maws.
Those are un-natural situations,
and frowned upon by Rangers,
as I understand it –
though much encouraged
by the bears themselves.

I really mean those events
where Mr or Mrs Bear wishes to occupy
the very same space as I,
somewhere in their wild outdoors.

Possession being nine-tenths of the law –
both the ‘law of the jungle’
and the so-called ‘civilized’ kind –
I have given way to them
on three particular occasions.
Wisely I thought,
for why disturb and
crimp his style
while he is hungry,
or she has a cub or two at paw?

‘Don’t go into the woods today’
is an old, old warning regarding bears,
and has as much relevance now
as when the song was first sung –
pity I never learned the words.

I seem to attract bears.
Maybe it’s my looks –
I hope it isn’t the way I smell!

At any rate,
twice I’ve hiked in Maine’s
outback -
both times, unwisely,
at ripe wild berry time.
I learned,
and not from the guide book either – thank you very much –
that hungry bears at
ripe wild berry time
ALWAYS
have the right-of-way
on America’s Appalachian Trail!

Come to think of it –
the third ursine episode
also involved berries.

Strawberries that time.
In the summers of my youth,
after church in the village
all the teens would go out swimming;
then pick strawberries,
bring them back,
pour on ice-cream and have a feast
while sitting in the park.
On one particular Sunday
a bear decided she'd invite herself.
Out of the woods she ambled,
crossed the road without a care for traffic –
which swiftly stopped of course –
and as it was not a Teddy Bears’ picnic,
she got all the strawberries and ice-cream,
while we removed enmass –
quite quickly as I recall –
to our pickup trucks and cars.

Two places I don’t like to see bears:
in captivity –
and in the same space I intend to occupy.

As I no longer live in a country inhabited
by ursine carnivores,
simultaneous occupation of spatial dimensions
is no longer a worry –
though I’m reliably informed
that herbivorous Koala Bears have some
very anti-social habits of their own.
That leaves only zoos,
and as I have no grandchildren - yet,
I don’t have to face bears again
for several peaceful years.
Nor will I have to sit in front of TV -
just yet -
with my grandkids on my knee
and be told repeatedly in song
that ‘there’s a bear in there’.

“Silly old Bear,” said Christopher Robin,
“Don’t forget the chair!”



James Gagiikwe © 2008