Tag Archives: the forest

I might look like something else from up there.

Birds.

There are so many of them in the forest. They are all kinds of colors and shapes and have all sorts of different wingspans and attitudes. Some birds sing delightfully beautiful melodies as the sun creeps to its shining perch. Other birds let out soothing coos as the moon’s light bathes the forest and the stars guide the rest of us. There are birds who build impressively sculpted nests to secure their cheerful young and birds who dip their slender beaks with incredible precision into chaotic chunks of mud to end up with a bounty of worms. So many birds are so interesting and delightful and kind and do not attack me.

Some birds, however, are very mean. Some birds (one in particular, it seems) attack me whenever he sees me. Some birds (still this one) have been known to hurl his disastrous claws and beak at and into my ears for no reason other than for what I assume he believes is a good time. Some birds (again, not all, in fact not most, in fact, just the one) take a perfectly good rabbit skeleton I found in a dumpster and probably did not even eat it and instead probably just threw it back into the dumpster maybe, I assume, but I do not know for sure.

Truthfully, there was no reason to bring up birds as an entire group of creatures. It is really just one bird that has troubled me. I try to see things from his perspective. Maybe I look like a worm from up high, which would explain why he gripped into my brow with such fury after a dive so fast I could hear his hideous feathers pierce the air around them. Maybe I deserve all of this bird aggression because of some slight I committed against this bird or another bird or to the forest in general. Maybe there is no rhyme or reason to this bird’s chaos, and I am just an unlucky target of his hate-fueled conquest for joy.

It is hard to convince myself of any of these things because this bird has been after me for so many consecutive unpleasant moments. I do not know what to do. The bird does not listen to reason or offerings of a trash bag I found filled with used napkins.

Maybe this bird just does not like me. Without meeting me or trying to understand me, this bird does not like me, and maybe there is nothing I can do about it. I just have to accept it. I have to accept that some things, this bird included, just do not care for me no matter what.

I do not know how to accept that, though. This is not the first thing to not like me (deer, snakes, etc.), but at least usually that dislike is based around some kind of past event or pretense. This bird does not have those things with me. I do not know this bird. It does not know me. But it has its opinion of me well formed already.

I guess all I can do about that is know it exists.

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.

Even more human questions, bear answers.

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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.

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.

Here is a list of things I found (and maybe just thought I found?) while digging in the snow.

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Here is a list of things I found (and maybe just thought I found?) while digging in the snow the past few days:

Rocks (many rocks in many different shapes and many different sizes and I ate about three)
Very sad looking grass (I ate about three)
Frozen rabbit skeleton (tried to chew on but hurt mouth)
Leaves (sad looking (I ate about three)
More snow (so much (where does it all come from/go?)
Ice (licked for a very long time, regretfully)
Less snow (this was a strange turn of events)
A can
Another can
A third can
There have been far too many cans
What I thought was a fourth can but actually turned out to be another rock (again, many rocks)
Part of a plastic shovel that did not do a good job being a shovel maybe
Part of a rodent tail (not Rob (the squirrel)’s, thankfully)
An apple?
Nope, not an apple
I do not know what that was
It was definitely not an apple
Whatever it was upset my stomach
A good place to take a nap
A bad place to take a nap
More ice (licking occurred again)
Twigs that are frozen solid (reserved for chewing at a later date)
Very flat leaves
What looks like deer fur
Wait…
Where is he?
The deer across the river?
Where?
He has been here, has he not?
Maybe he did not survive the storm
There is more fur…
…but not enough to make me believe the deer across the river met his demise
He is somewhere nearby
I can almost smell him
I found the river
The river is mostly ice
I do not see any fish
I do not see the deer
Did the deer abscond with all the fish?
Why would he do this?
Because he knows I like fish, that is why
I will wait for him to return
…
…
…
I fell asleep?
He has not returned
Dumpster snow
An actual apple
So many apples
Why are there so many apples in this snowy dumpster
I will eat them
The deer
These are my apples
Please
Leave me alone
What a horrible sound
Why do you make this sound?
How?
Running
Forever running
I do not like the snow

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.

To stay warm, use the warmth of others.

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The forest can get cold. Sporadically cold. The coldness of the forest can be unpredictable and angry. Avoiding the cold is important. Being cold is almost as bad as being hungry, and it is not nearly as simple to avoid as hunger. Hungry? Put a thing that is food in your belly. Cold? The solutions are much more complex.

Often, I hope being in my cave is an easy way to avoid being cold, but that is simply not the case. The cold, rough surface of my cave floor is unwelcoming and vicious toward my defenseless belly (even with its lovely, fuzzy fur). My cave sends me out into the forest, seeking better places for warmth.

Human caves seem, as I have discussed numerous times, welcoming and warm but are absolutely not welcoming. They are warm, though. The few times I have managed to enter a human cave have been incredibly warm. That warmth is always cutoff by shouting, though, so it is, in a terrible kind of way, worse to experience it since it is so quickly snatched away.

Human caves sometimes have metal things behind them that have bursting little suns in them. I have no idea why humans simply keep these little suns in metal things near their caves, but they are incredibly warm and incredibly dangerous. I have ruined the fuzziness of my fur by accident on these little sun things many times. How can something be so warm but also so angry? That is just how the sun works, in my experience. It will bake fur to a comfy temperature right before leaving red marks on the skin beneath.

Warmth can be hard to come by. I almost always end up back in my cave, having exhausted the potential warmth outside of it. Recently I got to my cave and found three raccoons, a very small opossum, and maybe a squirrel (it was hard to see so it could have been a bundle of tails, who knows) huddled in the corner, their trembling little bodies pressed up against sharp rock of the cave wall. They did not move as I got closer. I slumped beside them and aimed my belly toward them. I scooted closer. One raccoon bit me, but I was not offended. I settled into the corner with them, and their little warm bodies made my belly fur feel comfortable and at ease. I hope they felt the same way, but I had no way of knowing. When I woke, they were gone. We kept one another warm for awhile and then went on about our ways and days. I hope they come back when it gets cold again.

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.

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.

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When rubbing your belly on something soft does not work.

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The forest can be a very dangerous, confusing, wild place sometimes. Despite everything the forest gives and provides for me and other creatures, it can still be an absolutely difficult and terrifying place to spend the entirety of existence in. The screeching. The getting lost. The harsh winds. The bitter cold. The damp floor. The sharp sticks. The angry sun. The other creatures trying to eat me maybe but not actually. The dangers are numerous and severe, constantly present no matter where in the forest I go.

It is a part of forest life, and, for the most part, it is possible to adjust to it. Though forest living can be tense, it only takes time to learn how to avoid or process most troubles that it can hurl. And for the ones that are unavoidable? There are ways to cope. I prefer to rub my belly on the soft forest floor when I feel overwhelmed by the chaos of living in the forest. The leaves feel good against my fur, and the cool dirt soothes my belly as much as a good meal does. It is truly relaxing, and I highly recommend it for enduring the daily stresses of living in the forest.

Sometimes, though, the forest gets too difficult for simple belly rubs. Sometimes the screeching is particularly deafening. Sometimes the food is scarcer than usual. Sometimes the winds are sharper than usual and the sun is angrier than usual. Sometimes all of the difficulties of living in the forest attack at once, making it impossible to feel any kind of peace in a given day.

The forest can be unforgiving. The forest can be mean. Sometimes it feels like the forest takes all of its anger and chaos and aims just at me for a single moment, and I become paralyzed by everything bad it has to offer. Sometimes, I wake up in my cave, and I know the day will be one of those paralyzing chaos days. And I know no amount of forest floor belly rubbing will help me. It cannot be ignored, either. If I do not face the terrors of the forest, they will come creeping into my cave looking for me. Even if they do so just through my thinking, they somehow manage to find me every single time.

When it feels like the forest is completely focused on making my existence a struggle, I first remind myself that I am not the only one. It can be hard to remember that. I am a bear, so I mostly do and think and stick to bear things, and I can get lost in those bear things. I am not the only thing in the forest, though, and the forest is far crueler to many other creatures than it is to me. Tiny birds, for example. Imagine how those sharp winds that bother me so much must feel to them? They must go through the same feelings of dread and confusion when those horrible gusts begin howling throughout the forest, probably even more so than I do. If anything, I should be protecting tiny birds from the wind (though the last time I did I ended up accidentally eating a nest).

I also remember that the forest will keep doing what it is doing forever and ever, even when I am no longer a bear in the forest. The forest is indifferent toward me and how upset I am at it sometimes. No amount of belly rubs on the forest floor will change that, so I have to learn how to handle whatever the forest wants to attack me with. I do not have a choice in that matter. I either face the forest’s wrath or I sit in my cave away from everything until I am not a bear anymore (and I like being a bear, so I do not want to do that).

Sometimes the forest will win, however. The forest will make me feel terrible and I will sit in my cave and even consider staying there until I am not a bear (even though I really like being a bear), I am not sure what to do during times like those, but I will continue to at least try to not let the forest get the best of me when it is after me.

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

I would like to change colors, too, you know.

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The leaves are beginning to turn into lovely brown and orange colors. The crisp green tree ends fall and tumble to the ground, and by the time they land they have converted to a soothing orange, brown color. The tree tops slowly follow, and then one day it feels as though the entire forest has changed its wardrobe, adjusting its appearance to match the overall tone of the season (or maybe its appearance contributes to the overall mood of the season?). It really is nice, and when coupled with chill winds that come around this time, it easy to relax and enjoy living in the forest.

Generally I can hold on to that nice feeling for a few days before I begin to get a little upset with the orange and brown leaves and the nice winds and the pleasantness of everything. I try to ease my own bearself into feelings of this sort of forest dwelling, but my efforts are so quickly diminished by my own greedy wants.

I want to be orange.

Not all of the time, of course, but I do want to try to be orange. Or brown. Or any color really. I would like some kind of change. Any kind of change. But my fur stays the same jet black it usually is all the time.

Why?

Why do I not get to be orange?

I like my black fur, please understand. I love the way it looks when my fuzziness is particularly active, and I love the way it looks when there is water soaked into it, and I love the way it gets a nice sort of shine when I roll around in the dirt long enough. I do, really I do, love my fur. But why is that the only fur I get to have? So many things in the forest get to have different colors and hues and other subtle variations of themselves, but I do not. I never get to be any bear but the bear I am, and sometimes I even doubt that I really get to be that bear, too (which is another, totally different subject).

I tried to fix the ordeal recently by eating a very large collection of leaves I had accumulated over the weeks. They were orange and green and brown and grey and broken and whole and everything a leaf really could be, the many lovely variations of which leaves are capable.

I ate them all.

I do not know why, but I thought perhaps if I ate the leaves, I could mimic their colorations. I was very wrong. I did not turn orange. I did not turn any color. My tummy began to hurt. Then the leaves came back up. And they had turned into a different color I had never seen before. And it was not a nice color.

I suppose I cannot change colors, but I can change the color of leaves (kind of). Life in the forest can be very odd.

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