Tag Archives: nature

Even more human questions, bear answers.

Hello, I am a bear. I asked some humans if they wanted to ask me, a bear, some things. Here are some of the questions I answered from said humans. If you are a human who asked me something and I did not get to your question, I am sorry. I am sure it was a lovely question, and maybe if you ask again I might answer it? I do not know. I am sorry. Anyway, here are some questions and the answers I had for them:

A: I do not have a set goal of the number of things I plan on sniffing during a given day, but I do try to sniff as many things as possible. There are just so many lovely smells to enjoy, so I do not like to limit myself with a set number of sniffing occasions.

A: Berries, sticks, acorns, fish, very small rocks, leaves, discarded sauce-covered napkins, various dumpster findings, marshmallows, and anything I can find in a dumpster that is not claimed by angry raccoons or opossums. Spaghetti is good, too, but it is hard to come by. I once visited a place filled with humans who were all eating spaghetti and they yelled at me until I left. I did not get to enjoy any spaghetti.

A: Might I suggest donning the finest pile of leaves and plastic bags you can find? I am not sure this will be appropriate attire since I do not know what a prom is, but I think I look quite fashionable when I wear leaves and plastic bags.

A: I prefer the kind of honey that does not leave me with several stings on my nose and in my mouth. Would that be Orange Blossom? Does that one involve fewer stings and less pain and embarrassment?

A: I have, but clouds seem to be quite fickle. Just when I think I am making a great impression on one, it decides to float away or turn grey. I wish I knew the secret to making friends with them. They are very interesting. And they look soft.

A: Hide.

A: I do not know what a zombie or an apocalypse are, but if me being a bear will help you, then I would certainly consider joining you. Will there be opportunities for naps and/or extended naps? Will snacks be provided? I am a bear.

A: My only advice for GingerDog is to accept the inevitable horror that comes with deer being involved in your life in any capacity. There is nothing you can do. No amount of reaching our or wishing ill or trying to reconcile or spitting will take care of it. Deer will be there. No matter what.

A: All kinds. All kinds of squirrels are very mean. I do not know why. Though sometimes I wonder if they are not mean but, rather, they have particular dispositions and my particular disposition does not get along with their particular dispositions. Or they are mean?

A: Rob (the squirrel)’s only purpose is to be Rob (the squirrel), I think. I am sure he does that all of the time.

A: In no particular order:

Green snake
Brown snake
Other green snake

A: I think about being a bear. Sometimes I just stare? I am a bear.

A: Trees are certainly great for scratching any part of my body that itches. But their usefulness extends far beyond this. Trees give me shade. They provide food. And they are wonderful listeners.

Qs:

A: I do not know how many bears make a family of bears, but I am a single bear because I am just one, single bear. I am a bear. Just the one bear. There are more bears, I think, probably, but I do not know them, and I am just one of them.

A: Thank you for noticing. I put quite a bit of work into keeping my ears in pristine condition. In order to keep their volume and roundness, I rub my ears in the dirt for several minutes and then use pinecones to fluff them up. Also, belly rubs are wonderful.

A: I do not think one is objectively better than the other. I like all food and food-related products, be them sweet, savory, sour, smelly, or otherwise. I am a bear.

A: While their plumage is quite stylish, birds do not make very good hats. Instead, I would suggest using sticks and leaves to accessorize your ensemble.

A: I have a very storied relationship with birds. My interactions with them have ranged from pleasant (that time those baby birds took temporary residence in my belly fur) to awful (whenever those mean robins laugh at me when I trip and fall). It is hard to really pinpoint how I feel about birds as a whole. I form my opinion on them on a bird-by-bird basis. I am a bear.

A: I certainly hope so. I have no desire to test this, however.

A: There is no “deal” when it comes to snakes. They are horrible creatures and they frighten me to no end. Have you seen them run? They have no legs, but they can run. It takes me four legs to run. I do not know why they exist, and I am certain they hate me.

A: I do not know what most of this questions means, but have you tried looking in dumpsters? I usually look for things in dumpsters because there are so many things in dumpsters. You could try big rocks, too. There are lots of things under big rocks.

A: I am a bear.

If you would like to try being a bear, why not read some of the bear adventures available on this very site?

For any questions or comments directed at Bear, feel free to write to him using this email: justasinglebear@gmail.com

You can also now use Tumblr to address questions to Bear. Also, you can find bear photos and such on Bear’s Instagram, and don’t forget to “like” Bear on Facebook.

The pros and cons of mud: why do birds think it is okay to laugh at me?

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Why mud is good:

Smells neat
Feels neat in between toes
Feels neat in nose
You can lick it and nobody will yell at you
It tastes pretty okay
Even the chunky parts taste pretty okay
You can eat however much you want
You can keep eating it and nobody will yell at you
It is nice to not be yelled at
There has been a lot of yelling in my life recently, and it is nice to have a peaceful moment where nobody is yelling at me
Sometimes I wonder if I attract yelling, I ask myself if I do anything that warrants so much yelling, but that is unfair, I cannot help that I am whatever about me that gets me yelled at so often
Like yesterday, I was walking around some human caves and they were shouting for some reason and it seemed like maybe they were shouting at the glowing boxes they were near inside their caves but also I had a feeling it was about me?
Perhaps it was not about me, maybe the yelling from those humans had nothing to do with me
Maybe none of the shouting I hear is about me, maybe the creatures shouting are shouting because of something with them
Mud feels good on my belly
I need to learn that not all things that happen in the forest, even the things that I experience, are strictly about me, maybe things shout because they want to shout and there is nothing I can do about it
I like mud, and I like sloshing my feet about in it

Why mud is bad:

Oh no
I slipped
I slipped in the mud
But I like mud
Why would mud do this to me
No, mud did not do this, mud is just mud and I slipped
It is not mud’s fault
I fell again
And slipped
That has to be because of the mud
Why, mud
Why betray me
Please, mud
I think those birds saw me
Those birds definitely saw me
And they are laughing
I think they are laughing
And shouting
Shout-laughing
Or maybe they are making bird sounds
Mud has betrayed me and now birds are making fun of me
And possibly shouting at me
No
This is not about me
The mud is just mud
The birds are just making bird sounds
Or
Maybe
They are not
Maybe everything is against me
I am so saddened by mud
And birds
And shouting
And everything not being about me
Or everything being about me
Please
Mud can get stuck in your nose, and when it dries that is not pleasant

I am a bear.

If you would like to try being a bear, why not read some of the bear adventures available on this very site?

For any questions or comments directed at Bear, feel free to write to him using this email: justasinglebear@gmail.com

You can also now use Tumblr to address questions to Bear. Also, you can find bear photos and such on Bear’s Instagram, and don’t forget to “like” Bear on Facebook.

An open letter to the deer across the river.

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Dear deer,

I am a bear. In case you do not know which bear I am, I am the bear across the river who you sometimes glare at or spit towards. For as long as I have gone to the river (a favored place of mine for swimming, staring at my reflection, and trying not to drown when I catch fish), I have always seen you there. Sometimes you just drink the water from the river. Sometimes I am quite certain you are cursing me in some fashion. Sometimes you just stare at me. And I stare back.

There is a tense, ever present conflict between us that I am certain is rooted in a violent ancient history neither of us can truly comprehend. I sometimes feel like there has always been a deer and a bear staring at one another across that river, and the bear has always been a noble, beautiful beast, and the deer has always been an intolerable plague on the bear’s gentle sensibilities. I do not like admitting this, but I do not like you. You upset me. I can smell your rancid fur from across the river, and I would rather dip my snout into the muddy bank below than get any closer to your terrible stench. Also, your antlers are ridiculous.

I am sorry, and I take back the last comment (I am actually quite envious of your antlers because they are simply majestic). I do not want to add further damage to our already fragile relationship. My intentions are to do the opposite. I want to heal whatever ails between us. I want to learn to go to the river and not be disgusted by the horrible drool that drags from your filthy, surely disease ridden mouth.

I apologize again. That was uncalled for (though influenced by real experiences and feelings I have had).

I want to learn to accept you and everything you are, even the things about you that dig trenches of hate into the depths of my soul. I want to learn to share the river with you without you spitting at me and without me running from the horrible hacking sounds you make with your mouth and nose at the very same time.

We do not have to be friends, at least not at first. Perhaps never. But we do need to learn to accept one another. We need to learn from each other’s perspectives. I welcome you to my side of the river with open paws. Come drink with me one day. I promise I will not gag at your putrid smell or the way your strange teeth seem to be in a perpetual state of falling from your face.

And as for what you have done in the past to offend me, all is forgiven. As I am sure that you will forgive all I have done to offend you.

Thank you, deer, and I hope to see you soon,

A bear (across the river)

I am a bear.

If you would like to try being a bear, why not read some of the bear adventures available on this very site?

For any questions or comments directed at Bear, feel free to write to him using this email: justasinglebear@gmail.com

You can also now use Tumblr to address questions to Bear. Also, you can find bear photos and such on Bear’s Instagram, and don’t forget to “like” Bear on Facebook.

What if I am the last bear?

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I have not seen another bear in a long time, and my total bear sightings is really quite small (unless you count times I have seen myself (which actually sometimes leads to me thinking I am seeing another bear (which is scary))). Of course, the most likely of scenarios is that the forest is much much larger than I could ever even fathom, so the bears are out there just not around me.

Still…

I worry…

What if I am the last bear?

The thought has kept me restless many a night in my cave. I stare at the black, pointy wall of my cave and wonder how similar it must be to the future of bearness and bears in general… Bleak and… pointy. I am not sure what that could mean, but it scares me.

Even though I am just one, single bear, I often feel like I have more to contribute to the forest in general. Surely there is forest or bear wisdom I can pass down to other bears or even other creatures of the forest. How will anyone ever learn my perfected technique of rubbing my fur in leaves until it is has the balanced amount of fuzziness? Surely someone in the forest, especially a younger bear, could benefit from such knowledge. If I were to perish (probably by deer) without sharing this knowledge, and I am truly the last bear, what would happen to that information? Where would it go? Would it venture off to wherever I would go? Would it fill the empty space between the trees in the forest, waiting to be learned by some willing and interested creature? Would it just stop being?

If I am the last bear, then is there even a point to my personal continued bearness? Do I even need to be a bear if my legacy of being a bear stops with me? I like being a bear (though I do not have any basis of comparison, to be honest), but something about being the final bear of all bears upsets me. It makes me wonder if I am what all bears before me were leading up to or if those bears before me even cared. Maybe they all thought they were the last bears at some point. Maybe they just kept being bears because that was what they knew how to do. To be bears.

I am sure it is just some strange anxiety that is coiled at the base of my bear head somewhere that keeps this idea alive. The chances of me being the final bear seem low. There have to be more bears out there. I am sure. Maybe.

I am a bear.

If you would like to try being a bear, why not read some of the bear adventures available on this very site?

For any questions or comments directed at Bear, feel free to write to him using this email: justasinglebear@gmail.com

You can also now use Tumblr to address questions to Bear. Also, you can find bear photos and such on Bear’s Instagram, and don’t forget to “like” Bear on Facebook.

I hope my ears look nice today.

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In the forest, looks can be very important. Some creatures use looks to hide from other creatures. Some creatures use looks to impress other creatures. Some creatures are identifiable primarily because of their looks (smells play a big role in this, too (actually, smells play a big role in all of the uses of looks, but that is another subject for another time)). Almost everything in the forest has a perceivable look. Except for the wind. And air. And everything I have not been able to see or experience so I am not sure it exists. So, really, just many things in the forest have looks, and those looks are generally important.

I have looks. I can look at some of them by looking at myself. My paws, for example. I can see them and their looks, and I am generally satisfied with both. I can also see my belly when lie down on my back. I can only see the back of my back, the far end. I can see the looks of my snout if I cross my eyes and stare for a very long time. I do not do this often because it can cause my whole head to hurt and also it makes me bump into things. I can see the looks of my claws and a lot of my fur. They look nice.

I cannot, however, look at the looks of my ears. I cannot see my ears. I have tried. I have tried rolling my eyes toward the direction of my ears for so long and with so much concentrated effort that it has made me sick. I have tried pulling my ears toward my eyes, to the point of where I have accidentally pulled clumps of fur from my ears and into my eyes.

I cannot do it. I cannot see my ears.

I have, a number of times, stopped drinking from the river to see my reflection in the calming water. That reflection feels distorted, though. It waves a bit. It gives off a color that I am pretty sure is not my actual color. Besides, even in the best water-reflection conditions, I can still just barely get a decent view of my ears. I have, on a number of occasions, splashed my nose into the river while trying to get closer to the surface for a better view of my ears. Almost drowning for the sake of seeing my ears is not something I am proud of.

I always hope they look nice. I am not sure why. I do not think having not nice looking ears would drastically change my life in any important manner. If anything, my concern for the looks of my ears has affected my life far more than the actual looks of my ears have.

Maybe it does not matter if my ears look nice. Perhaps I should be content with just having ears. I tell myself that often. Be glad to even have ears. But still… I cannot help but to hope they look nice.

I am a bear.

If you would like to try being a bear, why not read some of the bear adventures available on this very site?

For any questions or comments directed at Bear, feel free to write to him using this email: justasinglebear@gmail.com

You can also now use Tumblr to address questions to Bear. Also, you can find bear photos and such on Bear’s Instagram, and don’t forget to “like” Bear on Facebook.

I ate some colorful, sharp berries.

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Human caves.

They are very strange. I have mentioned how strange they are on numerous occasions. How they look approachable but foster dens of shouting and unpleasantness. How they have accessible dumpster locations that seem terrific until the shouting begins. How there is just so much shouting at them.

Human caves.

I do not like the shouting, obviously, but that has never stopped me from approaching and exploring human caves. There are just too many reasons to engage with human caves to avoid them completely, so I found myself very close to one very recently. This time it was what appeared to be a collection of very expressive berries that brought me to this human cave.

I was wandering around the forest, searching for food and nice rocks when the shine of a bush by a human cave caught my eye. It was so bright. So hypnotic. So enticing. I approached it with caution (as I always do with human caves), but no amount of apprehension could keep me from getting to these strange little bright berries on this bush. They blinked. Quickly and without reason. I had to see them up close.

When I got to the bush, I sniffed the bright little things. They smelled like the bush itself, which was odd. I had assumed that shiny berries would have a special, shiny scent to them, but they did not. I then decided to lick the berries. Again, they tasted like the scrawny, bare limbs of the plant they rested upon.

They were warm, though. As my nose got closer and closer to a single one, I felt its warmth. I wanted that warmth all over my fur. I wanted to bury myself into the bare twigs of the bush and bask in the warmth of these strange little berries.

So I climbed into the bush and let my weight plunge into the tiny, warm berries. It felt nice. So I napped there for a bit. I have no idea how long, but no human shouting ever tried to stop me, so I felt no rush to sprint away from where I was.

When I did wake up, I studied the berries again. Scentless but warm. Bright and oddly pointy. I had to know what they tasted like. So, I nibbled on a bright green one. Its soothing hue blinked against my tongue and cheek. I must have had a green mouth for a brief moment. That was probably interesting to see. Anyway, I bit the little thing. And then these berries were suddenly not so great or warm or pleasant. They hurt. Tiny, sharp bits of glass covered my mouth. I spit it out as best I could, but the shattered chunks of the angry berry were all around my teeth and saliva. I did what I thought I had to do: I ran away. It did not help, but it felt right. It was the first time something other than shouting drove me away from a human cave.

These berries were likely just defending themselves (something I had never seen before), so I can only get but so upset with what happened. My mouth still hurts, but at least I got to be warm and green-mouthed.

I am a bear.

If you would like to try being a bear, why not read some of the bear adventures available on this very site?

For any questions or comments directed at Bear, feel free to write to him using this email: justasinglebear@gmail.com

You can also now use Tumblr to address questions to Bear. Also, you can find bear photos and such on Bear’s Instagram, and don’t forget to “like” Bear on Facebook.

Here are some things I had time to consider as I fell from a tree I climbed.

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Things I had time to consider as I fell from a tree I climbed:

The wind seemed very sharp
The ground looked so soft from up high
The branch that I thought was interesting looking from below was not nearly as interesting looking when I got to it
No amount of arm flapping would cause me to fly
Though I certainly tried
Why do I not get to fly?
I do not think birds should get to fly when most of the rest of us do not, it is strange and does not seem fair
But birds do not have front legs or paws or fur, so maybe flying was their trade-off?
The size of the sky does not seem to change while falling
The size of the ground does definitely seem to change while falling
Moments of tremendous unease seem to last a very long time, which is, again, a very strange and not very fair thing that happens no matter what, always
When moments like that stretch out, I am forced to linger on the thoughts and actions that made the moment difficult to begin with
And I have to, in a way, relive an awful thing while the awful thing is happening for what feels like a forever
I do not like that and it does not seem fair
Because even if I get all the time that is possible to have to think about one particular thing, I will be unable to change it or alter it or even really stop it from clouding my thoughts, so I am being forced by some unknown thing to sit and stare at myself inside me forever even as the ground gets closer and closer to my snout
The number of leaves I would likely fall onto
Which looked to be about ten?
Which was not enough leaves to constitute a safe or even mildly comfortable landing
That maybe trees do not like me?
Which is why I am often falling from them or things on them are falling from them and landing on me?
A very brief, fleeting moment of nothing right before my paws endure the shock of beginning my landing
Which was actually nice
And very relaxing

I am a bear.

If you would like to try being a bear, why not read some of the bear adventures available on this very site?

For any questions or comments directed at Bear, feel free to write to him using this email: justasinglebear@gmail.com

You can also now use Tumblr to address questions to Bear. Also, you can find bear photos and such on Bear’s Instagram, and don’t forget to “like” Bear on Facebook.

I saw a dirt-covered seagull.

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Seagulls are rare in my part of the forest, but when I get deeper into the forest, past the clumps of trees I normally reside in and to the slabs of flat rocks and human caves, I sometimes run into a seagull. The last time I saw a seagull, it stared at me as it stood next to a few crows, chewing on some plastic bits it had fished out of a dumpster. It was a strange experience. It was missing feathers and had a twisted leg. It looked okay with both of those things. The bird’s dark, beady eyes glared at me while its empty face consumed its catch. I envied it, to be honest, as it so openly, without any indication of shame for its seemingly awful state of being, enjoyed a nice dumpster snack.

I saw another seagull today. I was trying to climb into a dumpster when it swooped from the sky (as birds with their aggressive nature tend to do) and landed on the corner of the dumpster I was climbing. My front paws were inside, but I stopped and stared at the seagull as the last seagull I saw had stared at me. It stared back. It was covered in dirt. Brown and grey crud covered its crooked feathers. Mud rested on its neck, dried and flaking off with every little movement it made. Its eyes were just as beady and as dark as any seagull I had ever seen.

I am not sure how long we stared at one another, but eventually the seagull broke the spell and flew off. I shook my head and tried to snap back into my reality. I climbed into the dumpster I was climbing into and did what I normally do in dumpsters: enjoyed myself with some scavenging and a long nap.

When I climbed out, the seagull was on the ground to greet me. I had no idea if it was the same seagull, but it was definitely covered in dirt and it smelled similar. My head was poking out of the dumpster, my paws hanging over the edge, when its glare stopped me as it had before. It was standing in a very thick, dark liquid. Confidently. Maybe proudly. We stared at one another again. This seagull was so unashamed just to be. I do not know how it did that. I have always been nervous to be. Being has always worried me, plagued my thoughts and forced me to rethink my being. I doubted this seagull even knew it was. Did this seagull even care that it was? That it existed? I was hard to tell.

It dipped its long, strange beak into the liquid, slurped some of it, and flew away.

This seagull was fine with being what it was.

I tried licking the black liquid after the seagull was gone and I had climbed out of the dumpster.

It burned and made me very upset.

I am a bear.

If you would like to try being a bear, why not read some of the bear adventures available on this very site?

For any questions or comments directed at Bear, feel free to write to him using this email: justasinglebear@gmail.com

You can also now use Tumblr to address questions to Bear. Also, you can find bear photos and such on Bear’s Instagram, and don’t forget to “like” Bear on Facebook.

I think I might be lost.

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I might be lost. I think so, anyway. I am not sure. I started to walk away from my cave earlier today, and my thoughts began to drift toward images of sticks and garbage bags filled with sauce covered napkins and that time a rabbit looked at me and I did not know what to do. Before I could even begin to process where my paws were dragging me, I was gone. I had no idea where I was or where I had been.

And now I am lost.

When I look around where I am, I can remember bits and pieces of it. Some of the leaves look familiar. Some of the air smells like air I have smelled before. There is even a very interesting looking stick that I am quite sure I have seen and assessed as very interesting looking in the past.

I do not know where I am, however. That I am sure of: I am not sure where I am. As I let my paws do the walking and my thoughts do the drifting again, I begin to think why I even need to know where I am right now. Sure, I have a cave I can go to and it is safe and a place I know and a place I like to be near, but other than that, what good is it for me to know where I am right now or any other time? Not much of being a bear hinges on that information. I can still eat (even as I walk aimlessly I can see the bushels of berries and mounts of dirt to consume). I can still find the river (it is large and is always easy to find, and maybe the new spot I find will not have the deer across the river near it (unless the deer across the river is always across the river (which I would not put past him))). I can still be a bear.

I can probably be a bear no matter where I am. The place where I am being a bear does not affect my bearness, or at least I do not have any previous experience to refute that idea. No matter where I am, I am a bear.

My feet are still wandering, and so are my thoughts. And nothing seems familliar anymore as they each go their own direction. So maybe being lost is not such a bad thing. I am generally afraid of being lost. I often get worried and anxious when I am unsure of where I am, but this time, my relaxation comes with ease. I do not mind, in this moment, not knowing where I am. I do not mind not knowing where my paws are dragging me.

Until I think about where I might be going. That actually does make me anxious. What if I get dragged to a new place where I cannot be a bear? Is that possible? What if my paws are working against me to take me to some place where being a bear is unfavored and I have to be a something else?

I do not know where I am going.

Until my paws take me right back to my cave. When I take control of them again, I am at my cave. My paws took me there. I still feel lost, so I curl into a ball in the blackness of my cave, and I nap. And I hope I do not feel lost when I wake up.

I am a bear.

If you would like to try being a bear, why not read some of the bear adventures available on this very site?

For any questions or comments directed at Bear, feel free to write to him using this email: justasinglebear@gmail.com

You can also now use Tumblr to address questions to Bear. Also, you can find bear photos and such on Bear’s Instagram, and don’t forget to “like” Bear on Facebook.

Follow @a_single_bear

A series of bearkus describing how the forest might not care about anything, a bear. I am a bear.

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Yesterday was warm
The sun being so angry
Miserable day

But today is cold
I can see my body air
Miserable day

The undecided:
does the forest have a plan?
Or does chaos reign?

Do birds feel this too?
Those harsh, sharpened winds up there?
No, birds feel nothing.

Does the forest care
that it causes so much pain?
I really doubt it.

And what does it want?
To make us feel unwanted?
In need of new homes?

Can the forest care?
It could be indifferent.
Uninterested.

So what can I do?
But just hide inside my cave?
And wait for normal?

I’ll bury my nose
into the warmth of cave moss
and hope I can nap.

Because napping helps
and keeps me ever hopeful
it will be okay.

I am a bear.

If you would like to try being a bear, why not read some of the bear adventures available on this very site?

For any questions or comments directed at Bear, feel free to write to him using this email: justasinglebear@gmail.com

You can also now use Tumblr to address questions to Bear. Also, you can find bear photos and such on Bear’s Instagram, and don’t forget to “like” Bear on the book of faces.

Follow @a_single_bear