Stories from Clients

My friends, I have been bitten by a bear and lived to tell the tale. Now I don’t want to exaggerate the drama of this vicious bear attack I suffered, but I think it only proper to first expound upon the more horrifying parts of a black bears anatomy. As I am sure many of you know, bears have claws, oh and teeth too. These two instruments of destruction make them particularly dangerous to the casual bystander who, of course, has no greater desire than to help yonder bear enjoy the luxuries of civilized life. Such a victim of a bear attack will quickly learn that the claws of a bear are its first means of testing the mettle of its captor, I mean prey. Perhaps you think the bear uses his claws to wound or inflict pain upon his victim. The wounding and infliction of pain comes later on, but first it uses its claws to weaken you psychologically, inspire panic and make you lose your nerve in this most delicate of situations. Imagine if you will, a bear gently drawing its claws over the back of your exposed neck. Exposed you say? What kind of person would expose their neck to a bear? Well, let’s just suppose that it was a person whose hands were otherwise occupied with something, like say driving a vehicle. Now, imagine the bear tickling your neck. A man can face down a charging bull moose, grit his teeth and snarl at a cornered wolverine, and ... but no man can keep his nerve when a bear tickles the back of your neck with its claws. In fact, I can think of no feeling more eerie than that of bear claws gently tickling over the back of one’s neck. This claw tickling will elicit more screams of horror than when you realize you forgot to get something on your wife’s grocery list. The other instrument of these demons of the northern forest is their teeth. The teeth of a bear are attached to powerful jaws, jaws designed for gripping, and ripping, and tearing, but I would never admit to shedding any tears over the incident. But let us return back to the facts surrounding this particular bear attack. I was innocently driving along a wilderness road when the attack began. At first he just sat there in the passenger seat, eyeing me suspiciously but offered no clues as to his violent intentions. As I accelerated the bear’s suspicions got the better of him and he started his attack. At first I was unsure what exactly was going on inside the cab of my truck. This black mass of fur was hurling itself around the inside of my cab like a ball inside a pinball machine, nose and paw prints smeared over every inch of window. I made it up to about 50 miles per hour (which is quite a feat on a wilderness road) before I realized the velocity of the truck was directly proportional to the panic of the bear. It was about this time the clawing started. The bear bounced off the driver’s side window and lodged itself between my seat and, well, er, um, ME! Loud noises erupted inside the vehicle, which was odd considering the radio was off. The sudden pressure I applied to the brakes had the immediate effect of squishing the bear more tightly to the seat which inversely applied more pressure from his claws to my neck. This deadlock was quickly remedied when the vehicle actually stopped and I was thrown into the windshield and the bear extricated himself by leaping onto the floor in front of the passenger seat.

Now the reason I had been on that road in the first place was to go to town to get groceries. Like any good husband I had meticulously selected the specified items and exact quantities from the grocery list stapled to my forehead by my loving wife so I wouldn’t forget. So you can imagine my distress when I saw this bear begin the second wave of his attack upon myself by going for, no, not my legs, but my wife’s groceries! I knew he was in really in to get me then, and the fear of my wife over rode my sense of self preservation and I began a tug-o-war with the grocery bags the bear had now claimed. And that’s when he bit me. It was quite shock really. At one moment we were pulling back and forth and then next moment I felt a distinct pressure on my hand that increased into pain which I immediately identified for teeth puncture wound. Needless to say, I conceded defeat (and my prior marital bliss) to the bear and reluctantly released my grip on the grocery bag. The bear pulled the bag away from me and then released my hand to preoccupy his teeth with my food, which I am sure tasted a great deal better and made a lot less screaming.

Then it struck me, no not the bear, an idea. Perhaps this bear was not so helpless after all. Perhaps it was really just hungry. Perhaps the reason it was beside the road, alone, looking all forlorn, was that it was missing its mother. Perhaps it didn’t want to be civilized. Perhaps it wouldn’t make such a great pet for my daughters. Perhaps I should not have put the bear in my truck. Perhaps I should get a leash . . . No no no, that’s just not going to work. Perhaps I should just open the door and let him out.