Tag Archives: the forest

My smells: are they for everyone or just me?

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the stink (2)

I spent quite some time yesterday with my snout buried inside the crevices of fur between my claws. Past coming up for the occasional gulp of fresh air, I kept my face in the center of the smell consistently for a long time.

I liked it.

The smell, that is. I really liked it. The fur that is nestled there relaxes me and makes me feel good about myself, my fur, and my claws.

Rob (the squirrel), however, disagreed. Rob (the squirrel) approached me while I was enjoying the smells emitting from my feet, and he was quickly disturbed by the image. He aggressively asked me what I was doing and why I was doing it. I explained, and he asked if he could have a whiff as well. I did not see the harm in sharing such an intoxicating fragrance, so I let him smell the fur between my claws.

His eyes watered.

His face went sour.

He ran up a tree, nearly slamming his head into it as he recklessly escaped the odor of my feet.

I was hurt, honestly. Why did he find my foot smells so repulsive when I found them so delightful. I continued to smell my claw-fur for awhile before I decided to investigate why my smells might have upset Rob (the squirrel).

I had to question whether or not my nose was a good judge of a smell’s character. Just because I liked the smell of something, did that mean it was a universally beloved smell? Did that smell have any kind of popular opinion behind it? Did every creature experience smell in a unique manner?

I had to survey.

I first asked a raccoon in a dumpster I frequent if the fur between my claws smelled good. He was hesitant to try sniffing them, and, in the end, wound up biting them before running away. This was useful data for other questions I have about the forest (example: do raccoons like me?), but it did little in helping me understand my smell dilemma.

I decided to ask a longtime foe of mine for his opinion. I figured if the deer across the river had even the slightest interest in my smells, then those smells must be generally acceptable to all creatures who are not terrible, disgusting beasts and, therefore, Rob (the squirrel) was merely an odd exception.

The deer across the river told me my smells are as pointless as bears are. I then spent some time staring at him while sniffing the fur between my claws simply to spite him.

Finally, I tried testing my bear aromas on some mice who had slept under my belly that morning. Surely they found my belly fur smells enjoyable, so they must have something to say on the subject. They told me they were too consumed by the warmth of my belly fur to notice its smell. I offered them a chance to smell my  belly again just to get their opinions, but they slowly backed away from me in unison upon the suggestion.

I like my smells.

I know they might not be for everyone in the forest, but I do enjoy them. Perhaps we all have different ways of smelling, though, which should make me feel like I do not need the approval for my smells that I so desperately seek. But I still feel the need for that approval.

I hope you like my smells.

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

I do not know what a DJ is, and a squirrel pretending to be a bear attacked me.

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Recently, Rob (the squirrel) ran into my cave saying he had a new and exciting game for me to try that he had found in a dumpster while looking for wet pizza boxes to sleep in. I was intrigued. Though I knew what games were, I had never actually tried playing a game with someone else. I once stared at the mossy rock sitting in my cave for a long time until I fell asleep, and then I tried to do the same thing but longer for several nights afterwards. That was a fun game, but I was more just challenging myself than anything else.

Rob (the squirrel) said I had to try this game he found. It was called “The Raver and the Bear.” Rob (the squirrel) said I would love it because he knew how much I liked to rave, which I assume involves ravens. I have never met a raven, but I was immediately drawn to the “Bear” part of the game’s title. Had someone made a game specifically for bears? I was excited to find out.

Rob (the squirrel) would not let me see the rules of the game, insisting that I could easily follow his verbal instructions. He passed out several little squares of paper. Each one looked similar to this:

noiseand sounds (2)

He then said I would be the DJ. I asked what a DJ was and he said they make noises and that was all I had to know to understand the game. Rob (the squirrel) then explained what we were to do with these little squares of paper. He hid his squares from my sight and said I had to guess the order of his squares by making the noises indicated on my squares. If I made my noises in the opposite manner in which he setup his squares, then he would violently attack me because he was pretending to be a bear and that is what bears do when they are mad, according to Rob (the squirrel).

I was upset by that notion. I did not attack everything that angered me. Yes, one time I pawed at a branch that I stepped on and I also maliciously chewed on it because it hurt my toes, but that kind of behavior is very rare for me.

Midway through addressing my grievances, Rob (the squirrel) announced the game had begun and commanded me to make the sounds indicated by my little squares.

I tried very hard to imitate the sounds on my squares, but they were difficult for me to pronounce and I was distracted by a knowingly evil glance from a trickster rodent.

Before I could get a grasp on the game, Rob (the squirrel) quickly mauled me and declared himself the victor.

He asked if I wanted to play again, but I was hesitant to say the least. The game certainly seemed interesting and fun, but like most organized events, it was easily ruined by an aggressive squirrel.

If you would like to try “The Raver and the Bear,” you can find it by clicking here. You can also ask a human named Colin about the game. I think he might know squirrels.

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

Here is a list of things to figure out at night.

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night thinking (2)

A list of things to figure out at night:

  • Stars
  • Buzzing sounds
  • Dumpster mysteries
  • Opossum activities
  • Darkness of cave
  • Skinny trees emitting light
  • What crickets are up to
  • Why this skinny tree has some black lines coming from it
  • Maybe climb the skinny tree
  • Why there are so many metal splinters in this skinny tree
  • Where the moon goes
  • Where the sun goes
  • Keep climbing the skinny tree
  • Why nobody really fishes at night
  • Oh, it is hard to see the fish
  • You figured out the last one
  • That was a nice revelation
  • Get to the top of the skinny tree emitting light that has lots of tiny metal splinters on it
  • Why the night air smells better than the day air
  • Why it is not night all the time
  • Why it is not day all the time
  • Can you bite the black lines
  • Are they tree branches
  • Why is the grass wet in the morning
  • Why are you not covered in water in the morning
  • Raccoon activities
  • What tastes best at night
  • Not this black skinny tree limb that you are afraid to bite
  • But then again how would you know
  • Bite it maybe
  • It looks scary
  • Maybe do not bite it
  • Do not bite the skinny black limb of the skinny tree that emits light and has many metal splinters on it
  • Is this where the buzzing sounds are coming from
  • Why it is so easy to lose your balance at night
  • And fall
  • Out
  • of
  • the
  • skinny
  • tree
  • that
  • emits
  • light
  • and
  • has
  • many
  • tiny
  • sharp
  • metal
  • splinters
  • ow
  • Do not try to figure things out at night
  • Just sleep
  • It is not worth the risk

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

Also, why not go see/listen to a song created by Emeric Viani inspired by the things Bear says/thinks:

I found a chair.

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chair

The forest is cluttered with a variety of wonderful objects that are not native to the forest. Some of them are completely harmless (donuts, tents, wind). Some of them seem to serve no purpose to the forest (tires, chairs, strange birds). And some are downright bad for the forest’s overall well being (the deer across the river). Throughout my travels of the forest, I have found a great number of these curious artifacts. I almost always stop to inspect them. Sniff them. Lick them. Stare at them. However, no matter how I approach these objects, nearly all of my interactions with them have one thing in common: I usually accidentally break them.

I never mean to end the life of the strange objects I find in the forest, but I almost always do. Take, for example, a lovely plastic chair I recently stumbled upon. It was a beautiful red color, some of it fading into a more orange hue from exposure to the sun. It had to have been in the forest for quite some time, so I felt beckoned to examine it beyond a simple glance from afar.

I approached the chair.

It was still, so I was assured that any further poking around would not be met with some kind of violent reaction from the chair.

I sniffed it.

It smelled like dirt. It also smelled a little bit like insects (not any specific kind that I could detect).

I licked it.

Dirt. Again. Also insects. Again. I think I could taste the sun on it, too, but then again, I am not entirely certain what the sun actually tastes like (though I have my theories).

The chair was withstanding nearly every part of my normal investigation pattern: approach, sniff, lick. I only had one step left: sit. I frequently find myself trying to sit on new things I find in my ever vigilant search for the most comfortable things in the forest. Was this chair going to be comfortable? At the time, I had no idea, but I had to know.

So I sat on the chair.

It was nice for a moment. A brief moment. Then the tiny legs of the chair snapped and I found myself hurtling toward the ground. It was not a long trip from the top of the chair to the ground, but it was long enough to frighten me and send me running off into the forest. At the time, I did not know that this action was me actually killing the chair by accident. I had to run away just in case this was the chair’s way of trying to kill me on purpose.

I hid behind a tree for awhile.

When I felt like it was safe to come out, I did. The chair was still broken. Its sad cracked legs were shattered. Pieces of them were scattered around the forest floor. I felt guilty.

I put the broken chair through the same process of investigation as I had the whole chair (approach, sniff, lick, sit). This was to ensure that the chair did not change its mind about not being violently reactive to something after becoming a broken chair.

It did not break again when I sat on it the second time, but it was clear that I had left a significant amount of damage from my investigation.

I like finding new things in the forest. I like investigating those new things, too, but I wish I knew a more effective, less damaging manner of doing so. I am sorry, chair that I broke. Also, I am sorry, everything else I have sat on by accident or on purpose. That includes you, the opossum who was nesting in my moss collection. It was an accident, opossum. I promise.

I just want to know more about where I live, and I hope I can learn how to do so in ways that do not leave chairs and opossums upset and/or crushed.

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?

I might be the only one who knows you can eat anything you find on the ground.

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market

You can eat just about anything. It is one of the greatest joys of life in the forest. Berries, dirt, sticks, pine-cones, fish skeletons, fox carcasses, anthills, plastic cups, tents, those plastic sticks that hold up tents, hats, or even pebbles. All of those things and more. You can eat it all if you really want to.

I fear I might be the only creature in the forest who is completely aware of this fact. This thought occurred to me when I found a perfectly good aluminum can to chew on buried under some pine needles (edible) and worms (also edible). There is no way that I was the first creature to stumble upon such a wonderful gift for any stomach. It could have very easily been anybody’s wonderful gift for their respective stomachs. The can was old. It was crushed and covered in hard dirt (which was also edible).

This can had been seen. It had to have come in contact with someone (or someones) who eats things.

So why did I find it before those other someones? Why was it not consumed prior before I got to it? This is not an uncommon occurrence, either. I frequently find these kinds of treasures throughout the forest. Untouched gifts that I gather and feast upon in my cave. Am I truly the only one who spends nights in a cave, enjoying the fruits of a bountiful foraging expedition? Does nobody else in the forest find the nutritional value in the brown paper bag I found caught on the limb of a tree, tattered and torn and likely delicious?

I decided I would try to spread the word of these limitless gifts. Using a moss covered, hollowed out log I found near my cave as a table, I setup a shop that displayed the numerous wonders the forest had to offer. For free, any creature was welcomed to approach my display, ask about an item, and take it back to his/her den.

As I waited for other forest inhabitants to take a gander at my wares, I accidentally ate many of them. At first, I had displayed a fish skeleton, a small bushel of red berries I had never seen before, the aforementioned aluminum can, a glass bottle, a crumpled up paper bag, a tin can, and some sticks.

By the time the first creature arrived, I only had the glass bottle, the tin can, and the paper bag left. She was a raccoon. She must have been in the log the entire time. I had not seen her enter or exit my makeshift table before then. She slowly shuffled out of the log and climbed to the top.

She sniffed the tin can.

She pushed it with her tiny paws.

Then she grabbed it with her teeth and ran away.

Success! I had convinced a fellow forest friend to partake in the wonders of forest foraging. She did not have anything to say about the can other than the distant hisses I heard from the direction she ran toward, but I was still excited at the idea of spreading awareness.

I waited a little while longer for any other forest creatures who wanted to be enlightened. Eventually, the wind picked up the paper bag and carried it off. I had not considered that even elements of the forest might like to enjoy what the forest had to offer. Perhaps the rain would like to try the glass bottle?

I wanted to ensure any creature or thing in the forest who wanted to see my findings could be able to, so I decided to stick around long after my inventory was down to just one glass bottle. I waited for a very long time. To pass the time, I chewed on the moss (another amazing thing to eat in the forest) that covered the old log. Surely there had to be something or someone out there who wanted to hear what I had to share about the forest.

Nobody came. The moon was overhead as I picked up the empty bottle and carried it to my cave. I wanted to spread awareness, which I did to a small extent, but I was saddened to realize very few animals of the forest were interested in what I had to say.

I wanted to help my fellow forest dwellers, but I hardly made an impact when it came to sharing my ideas. I should have been delighted. After all, if nobody wanted to eat the old wallet I found in an abandoned tent, did that not just mean more for me? Yet I could not get over how unheard I felt. I had something to say, but nobody wanted to listen. Even the raccoon did not stay long enough to hear why I had a display of tin cans and paper bags.

I keep a rock in my cave. It rests in the darkest part of my dwelling. When I feel like I have not been heard or when I need to say something that I cannot tell anyone, I tell my rock. I dropped the empty bottle next to the rock and explained how useful item was. I told my rock that it had a wonderful taste and smelled like mold. Then I told my rock about the raccoon and the wind. Then I explained how I felt not being listened to by anyone else.

I think the rock understood. I left the bottle next to it and curled up in a ball to sleep. It is nice to be heard, even by rocks.

I am a bear.

To read more thoughts from this particular bear, interact with the blue or grey parts of this sentence. Also, be on the look out for a new bear adventure.

I think it is okay to not be good at some things.

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shame

I remember the first time I caught a fish in the river near my cave. I sat in front of the rushing liquid, watching ripples and bubbles caused by the creatures below. I stared for what felt like lifetimes. My front legs were drenched in river water and bits of dirt and grass. I knew the fish were unaware of my presence, but I still felt them mocking me and telling me how terrible I was at fishing, staring, understanding water, and being a bear. They never said anything of the sort, but I felt them think it.

My paw finally swiped one of the mocking fish. I felt its head crush under the thick padding of my paw. I dragged it toward me. For a split second, I felt awful for so swiftly ending another creature’s life, but I was far too hungry to dwell on the thought for too long.

I managed to fish. I was awful at it. I am still not too terribly good at it. It still takes me far too long to time my paws with the rush of the river. I still frequently find myself tripping into the water, scaring all of the fish away.

I am not good at fishing.

I am not good at a lot of things. I try many activities to pass the time in the forest, but I rarely find myself mastering any one of them. I still struggle with identifying bird calls. I am terrible at walking backwards. I usually fail to keep my fur shiny and smooth. I have a very hard time acquiring the proper footing to extensively climb trees.

I am not good at so many things.

When I am alone, being a bear by myself and the like, I am not bothered by my lack of expertise or mastery. Even though I certainly aspire to be good at things and spend a fair amount of time practicing said things, I am okay with my inability to enhance my skillset.

When I am not alone, however, being a bear with others around and the like, I am bothered by my lack of expertise.

Everyone else seems amazing at everything.

I stare in amazement as squirrels zip up trees with great agility. My jaw drops when I witness a bird of prey swoop down into the forest to snatch its meal. I am constantly impressed by the beauty and elegance exhibited by does as they graze the forest floor.

They are so good at eating grass.

And I will never be good at eating grass. At least not that good. I usually throw up when I eat grass. I am bad at eating grass.

It troubles me to be surrounded by expertise that I am not capable of acquiring myself. I want to be good at climbing, finding prey, and eating grass, but I simply am not. I once tried to ask a doe how she got so good at eating grass, but she quickly ran away as I approached. I am sure she would have told me the obvious, though: practice.

And I do. I practice many things, but I never feel like I have mastered any of it. I want to impress others in the forest. I want animals to see me and be amazed by my capacity to be a bear and do bear things. “There goes a bear,” the creatures would say. “He is marvelous at being a bear and doing the thing we are watching him do.”

I wonder what I look like while doing the things I practice on a daily basis. How do ants see me as they witness me try to eat grass? What do the lizards on the trees I climb think about me as I straddle the flimsy limbs and try not to fall? Is anyone impressed by the way I nap in my cave for many hours at a time? I feel like nobody is.

I want to be good at things. I want to be an expert at fishing and swimming and sleeping and eating. I want to, but I do not know if I ever will be. But whenever I find myself dwelling on that want of being a master of anything, I try to think about why I want it so bad.

Do I want to be good at fishing so I can catch fish easier? Not really. I do not mind being bad at catching fish. I really just like swishing my paws through the cool river water. I suppose I want to be good at fishing so others can be impressed by my ability to fish. Does it matter if others are impressed by me, though? Would it make my days easier or the grass on the ground tastier? I doubt it, yet I still crave it.

I need to be okay with what I am capable of. I need to embrace the bear that I am and not be ashamed of the bear I think others see. I need to do these things, but it is difficult. For now, I will keep trying to be a better bear while accepting that I might not ever be the impressive bear I want to be. I think that is okay.

I will also try to eat more grass without throwing up. I like to eat grass.

I am a bear.

To read more thoughts from this particular bear, interact with the blue or grey parts of this sentence.

Human Questions, Bear Answers

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Recently, I asked some humans if they had any questions about being a bear or needed advice from a bear. I received many questions from many lovely humans searching for bear guidance, help, information, and companionship. I responded to as many as I could here. I am sorry if I did not get to your question. I will try answering more at another time. Please enjoy!

 

Human Question:

https://twitter.com/andrewknoc/status/539530081400393728

Bear Answer:
Carefully and with great strain. Sometimes I use my tongue.

 

Human Question:

https://twitter.com/heywriterboy/status/539530084227756032

Bear Answer:
Why would you want to get rid of something that smells so lovely? There is really no need to not have wet fur.

 

Human Question:

https://twitter.com/FaustMN/status/539530098031230976

Bear Answer:
Do not throw rocks at me.

 

Human Question:

https://twitter.com/asameshimae/status/539530142109167616

Bear Answer:
Not that I know of, no.

 

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
The best thing to do is not always the easiest. For example, one time I ate a plastic bag I found in the dumpster because it had some peanut butter in it. Eating that plastic bag was one of the hardest things I have ever done, yet I knew it was the right thing to do. If what you are changing does more good than harm, then maybe you are doing something right. Unless that harm is something really bad like suffocating baby animals or killing the sun or saying something mean to the moon. Then you should rethink things. Ultimately, my advice: always eat the plastic bag if it has even the slightest amount of peanut butter inside it and if the plastic bag is not going to suffocate a baby animal. Always.

 

Human Question:

https://twitter.com/meek_the_geek/status/539530193807749120

Bear Answer:
I only recommend taking selfies with me if you have an offering to go along with it. If you give me bread or a very well sculpted rabbit skeleton as a gift, I believe you have earned a picture with me. I do not know why you would want a picture with me, but I do not want to belittle what you consider an achievement.

 

Human Question:

https://twitter.com/SVMelton/status/539530212313415680

Bear Answer:
I wish I knew the answer to this. They look like kind and gentle creatures (because of their fluffy tails), but no creature is more untrustworthy than a squirrel.

 

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
Yes.

 

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
I do not know any other bears, and I have limited experiences with them. I do have other forest companions (even Rob (the squirrel) despite his disposition), but I do spend a great deal of time alone. This time is usually spent staring at things, trying to understand things, or smelling things. A lot of my time is spent smelling things.

 

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
One of my earliest memories is of a moment when I was sitting next to a tiny bear. I, too, was a tiny bear at the time. I remember asking the tiny bear what we were supposed to be doing as bears. It did not say anything to me. It just licked my face and then walked away. I do not remember ever seeing that bear again. So, I guess other bears are fine if not a tad bit strange.

 

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
I believe that if everyone focused more on sleeping and eating and smelling new smells, then there would be much more peace around the world. Though squirrels and deer would likely ruin it. Because of squirrels and deer, world peace is probably impossible.

 

Human Question:

https://twitter.com/unrealfred/status/539530843048652800

Bear Answer:
You become a bear by being a bear. I wish I had a more thorough answer for you.

 

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
Maybe you should go, despite any trouble it might bring. Though staying might lead to at least twice the amount of trouble the previously mentioned going would. You are on your own with this one.

 

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
They are unpredictable. One minute a raccoon will be bringing you piles of leaves for you to sleep on, the next it will be hissing at you because there is not enough room in the dumpster you are sharing with it. They have violent mood swings but can also be good friends.

 

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
If you are a bear, you can be a bear. So just ask yourself: am I a bear? If you answer yes, you are likely a bear. Enjoy your time in the forest.

 

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
I generally eat too much of everything I eat. And everything I eat tends to be my favorite thing to eat. Therefore, I always eat too much of my favorite thing to eat. The only time this behavior backfires on me is when I eat too much of something I probably should not eat (e.g. rocks, pieces of wood, and cardboard).

 

Human Question:

Bear Answer:

I am not sick of it, but it does seem very strange to me. I realize that all of our bodies must do something to that effect at some point in time. And I also realize that the natural environment for me to do that in would be the forest. However, many people still have questions about that process. I cannot fault their curiosity.

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
Honey is very good, but you have to fight bees to get it. That can take a severe mental and physical toll, so I usually do not indulge in honey. Bees are good creatures, so killing them en masse for some delicious nectar seems far too aggressive.

Human Question:

https://twitter.com/Mivena/status/539539334626832384

Bear Answer:
I do not recommend being a dinosaur. Try to be something better and less dead like a opossum or a ladybug or maybe even a tree.

 

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
I have not seen Rob (the squirrel) in a couple of days. However, I am always suspicious of his presence. I must be constantly vigilant in my pursuit to avoid his tricks and upsetting behavior. Squirrels are tricky.

 

Human Question:

https://twitter.com/ryanwilson616/status/539537333314256896

Bear Answer:
Having claws is very lovely. You can grab fruit more easily and scratch trees. I think everyone should have a good set of claws.

 

Human Question:

https://twitter.com/websterwolf/status/539533752884797440

Bear Answer:
Black. I think. Maybe grey-ish black-ish? I am not entirely sure. I am a bear.

 

Human Question:

https://twitter.com/icecoldrosegold/status/539532461609607169

Bear Answer:
My advice on how to approach female humans is the same advice I would give on approaching male humans: wait for the humans to leave their camping grounds and eat their marshmallows because marshmallows are very hard to find in the forest but they must be easy for humans to find because they always seem to have marshmallows. Why do you humans always have marshmallows? Please tell me how to get them without stealing from you.

 

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
Only by accident.

 

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
Pet it. It has probably had a rough life.

 

Human Question:

https://twitter.com/coalhouse/status/539548517686337537

Bear Answer:
Yes. No. I do not blame you for having that fear.

 

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
Squeeze harder or stop squeezing so hard (depending on what the recipient of the hug is complaining about since hug feedback is a very important aspect of hugging culture).

 

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
A pristine rabbit skeleton balances the dark emptiness of any cave, making it must easier to think and focus while you rest in your domicile (I assume you live in a cave).

 

Thank you for asking so many wonderful questions. Again, I am sorry if I did not get to yours personally (there were quite a few). I will try to answer more at another time. For now, you can go look at more of my bear thoughts on Twitter or try being a bear with my choose-your-own-bear-adventure story.

-A bear