Father loved driving in the mountains and California was the ideal location for such adventures. Annual vacations were divided between the mountains and the coast. This year would be the chance to drive through the famous tunnel cut out of a giant redwood tree. A small log cabin was rented for one week although we spent much of the time out under the forest of trees having picnics. Just as the sun was going down all the park visitors drove their cars over to where the big brown bears were fed the collected garbage. It was a bit scary, but so exciting to watch, and the bears seemed to also enjoy watching the people.
When we finally returned back to our cabin for the night, we saw the front door had been pushed aside, the window over the sink pushed open and to our dismay a brown bear came loping out leaving empty dishes, empty boxes of Ritz crackers, and generally a big mess everywhere. Father rounded up one of the Park Rangers who informed us we should've locked the door, window and cupboard doors. Once father had the cabin back in order and gotten us safely inside with door and window secure we finally settled down for the night. I dreamed about big brown bears for several nights even after we arrived back home. Father made sure I had a night light in my bedroom. Can't say that I cared as much about 'Goldie Locks and the Three Bears' as a good bedtime story anymore. Since then the only bears I've encountered are at the local zoo.
Probably my first story about a bear was told to me by my father's father, my wonderful grandfather who lived just down the street from our house. When he would begin telling the story about his pet bear, Grandmother would retrieve the photo album from a drawer of her secretary cabinet and find the famous photo of her husband, a young Dwight Noble with a big brown bear towering over him as they stood by a huge Pine tree in Idaho. As the story goes, he had found the mother bear dead after being shot by a hunter and nearby a very young bear all alone. As the hunter hauled off his trophy with the help of his fellow hunters "very proud in deed and no consideration that they had orphaned the little bear" Grandfather scooped up the baby bear and took him home to raise.
Over the years the bear grew bigger and stronger. And, over those same years Dwight had played and wrestled with the bear. "We were great friends, but neighbors in Boise were afraid the bear would get out of his cage and attack someone." Needless to say, I was always eager to hear the story over and over again. The somewhat sad ending was that eventually the bear had to be turned over to the Boise Zoo. Grandfather said he visited the bear as often as he could and the bear always remembered him. To this day some of my cousins insist it was just a tale he liked to tell. But, I had never known my grandparents to be untruthful to me and my father insisted the story was in fact a true one. I believed then, and I believe now that my grandfather and that bear had a fine time together for many years.
I will add that I lived and taught school in Pt. Barrow, Alaska during the winter of 1975-6 where Polar Bears roamed through the small town late at night. We could see their huge footprints in the dry-snow that blew around like dust over the frozen tundra. The bears seemed to especially prefer checking for any packages of food to fill their bellies before they settled down to hibernate. Just to remind us, the Top of the World Hotel had a stuffed Polar Bear, in a lucite case, adorning their lobby. A beautiful specimen that looked so alive and ready for a bear-hug. Never saw an alive one while there. Had to visit live Polar Bears at the famous San Diego Zoo.
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