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Fuzziness matters.

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rubs (2)

Fuzziness is an important aspect of who I am and how I see myself as an individual creature of the forest. My ears are fuzzy. My belly is fuzzy. My neck is fuzzy. Even my paws are fuzzy, which is strange considering they are also leathery and tough. Paws are strange, but we are not here to discuss paws. We are here to discuss fuzziness.

How do I maintain the fuzziness of my fur? This is an important question for any creature who is given the gift of a thick coat of lovely hairs. I cannot speak for all creatures of the forest, but my fuzziness is maintained through a regiment of important daily processes.

Allow me to elaborate.

I spend a great deal of time every single morning rubbing my fur onto something with an interesting texture. Sometimes I seek out the smooth edges of a pebbles to help slick back my fur. Other times I look for something jagged and scratchy like the side of a tree or the side of a rusted dumpster. These rough textures also help alleviate various itches I might feel at the base of my fur. They ruffle my fur, too, making my fuzziness much more messy than usual, but the feeling of the means are worth the awkward looking ends.

I once dragged an old, ragged piece of a carpet I found into my cave. I spent a great deal of time rubbing all of my fur against it. It was one of the best things I had ever found in a dumpster, and I loved every minute I spent with my fur practically glued to its surface. Unfortunately, I eventually had to dispose of that prize after several raccoons ate most of it. I stopped them from completely devouring it, but what was left was hardly enough to maintain my fuzziness.

Water is also important part of fuzziness. Though fur smells incredible after rolling around and basking in many weeks’ worth of forest odors, it is occasionally nice to refresh and revitalize that fur with some clear, cool river water. At first, it seems counterintuitive. When fur is wet, it ceases to have fuzziness. It becomes drenched and loses everything that defines fuzzy. Once the water dries, however, the fuzziness feels crisp, clean, and brand new. I do this process minimally, though. I have a great deal of pride in the collection of smells and debris I collect as I traverse through the forest, and I do not take lightly the idea of trading all of that in just for some wet fur.

Furthermore, this process also means having to see the deer across the river. Oh, how vile that creature is with its ghastly, empty stare. It knows what it did. It will never forget what it did. I will never forget what it did.

I apologize for the digression.

Another great way to maintain fuzziness is to seek out a symbiotic relationship with another creature and/or find a very good friend. For a very long time, no less than three mice (one large one and two tiny ones) resided in a tuft of fur on my back. Their warmth and tiny hands soothed and combed my back fur. I did not let them go uncompensated, too. As often as I could, I would toss small berries or patches of grass onto the tuft by slinging them with my mouth. This beautiful relationship lasted until the tiny mice outgrew the large mouse. They ended up arguing and fighting over the rations of berries and grass. The quarrels became so terrible that their violent squeaks would keep me up at night. I finally evicted them from my body lying on my side and shaking. They quickly scattered into the forest, which was unfortunate because I would have liked to at least formally meet them before they left for good.

I sometimes ask other forest creatures if they would be willing to fill in where the mice left off, but I can find no takers. Those relationships are rare, so if you are lucky enough to find one, make sure you nurture it to the best of your abilities.

Fuzziness matters. It is not simply an issue of aesthetics either. How my fur interacts with my environment says a lot about who I am, and I truly hope all other creatures of the forest take their fuzziness as seriously as I do.

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?

What was before bears?

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tree bearness

I have no idea what came before bears. If I had to guess, I would say lots of things. Trees seem older than bears. I bet trees were around long before bears. Maybe ants? Ants seem like they have been around much longer than bears. The sky. There is no way any bear has been around longer than the sky.

I suppose trying to figure out all of the things that came before bears is a little too grand of a task. After all, it seems like everything is older than bears, especially mold, rocks, and most frogs (their wisdom proves that). I need to narrow down my line of questioning.

What was before bears that led to bears?

I have no idea what was before bears that led to bears. I have some guesses, but that is really all they are: guesses. I do not have any hard evidence like bear bones I dug up or a lovely picture of an old bear.

Bear-trees. That is one of my hypotheses. I think it might be possible trees and bears used to be one thing at one time, a very very long time ago. I feel connected to trees in an inexplicable way. They are so silent and so peaceful and so nice about me chewing on them, collecting their stick children for further chewing, and letting me have the moss on their sides for possible chewing. Trees give. Maybe I am being too self-centered, but sometimes I feel like trees give specifically to me (and presumably all bears). That connection feels ancient. It feels like trees have been giving to bears since before bears were even bears and trees were even trees. So that leads to me thinking that maybe a very, very long time ago we were one thing.

I know this is hard to visualize, but it is very nice to think about. The peaceful, giving life of a tree is something I understand, so it makes sense to me that bears and trees might have once shared lives.

Another guess I have about what was before bears that led to bears is based around another thing that feels ancient and old to me. Dirt. Maybe bears are just fuzzy dirt. Dirt seems like it has been around for everything. Just ask it. Dirt even manages to be more silent and peaceful than trees. I have a myth in my brain that involves dirt realizing it wanted to try being more than dirt by being like all the creatures and non-dirt things that step all over it all the time. In this myth I made up, dirt decides to be a thing that is still rather silent and peaceful but gets to be fuzzy and eat fish. So some of dirt becomes the first bear. That might be me just making up stories, but would it not be so pleasant to consider it true? Maybe everything comes from dirt like that.

Trees and dirt are nice, but I do think those two ideas are more me trying to find commonality in the things I admire about the forest and less about what was actually before bears that led to bears. My practical guess for this situation that I do not truly understand is that all bears came from smaller bears. This line of thinking seems the most reasonable (and boring) to me. As much as I like to believe that I am the product of trees and dirt, I have a feeling that I am actually the product of just some other, smaller bear. A bear that is tiny and helpless and trying to figure out the forest just like I am. A bear that wants to be of trees and dirt and not an even smaller bear. A bear that likes tiny fish in tiny rivers and collects tiny rabbit skeletons. I suppose that is not so awful. It is not as magnificent as dirt and trees, but it is nice to think about a creature that is like me in every way but just tiny.

I will probably never actually know what led to bears, what was before bears, or why I feel more connected to dirt and trees than I do anything else in the forest. I like not knowing, though. It lets my brain wander into things that might or might not be, and who knows if I would be able to do that if I actually knew the answers to all of these questions.

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 took a nap on some ants.

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ants (2)

I took a nap on some ants. I did not do so out of malice. In fact, it was never my intention to sleep on ants at all. Sometimes, when spontaneous naps strike you, the number of ideal places to lay your fuzzy head dwindle. A bear (me, for example) must work with what is around them. In this case, what seemed to be comfiest place on the forest floor was an ant hill.

The tiny mound looked soft and inviting. Little did I know, my carelessness would cause a kingdom to fall.

I woke to the sound of hundreds of tiny voices crying out in terror, pining over the destruction of their home. I sat up to survey the damage. It was severe and undeniably horrible.

What had I done?

A few surviving colonists clung to my nose. Some were frantically shouting in my face. A few were biting me. But the pain they inflicted upon my muzzle was nothing compared the remorse that filled my heart.

I begged for their forgiveness, but there was none to be had. The ants could not let this atrocity go unpunished. With tears welling in my eyes, I accepted whatever fate the small insects had planned for me. There was much deliberation over what course of action to take.

After what seemed like an eternity of silence, one of the ants simply said, “You must rebuild, bear. Make right your wrongs.”

I agreed. I told them it was only fair. Reconstruction would begin immediately (after I finished my nap, of course). Tiny cries of protest ringed in my ears. Some more nose biting occurred.

Realizing I would not get to complete the grievous act that led to my punishment in the first place, I set out into the forest to find supplies. I came back with the essentials for any reconstruction

  • Leaves
  • Six sticks
  • Napkins covered in some kind of spicy sauce
  • Three ribs from a rabbit skeleton I had been saving for a special occasion
  • Dirt in an empty aluminum can that I chewed on

I placed the tools on the ground before the displaced ants.

“What’s this?” asked one of them.

Certain these ants had never encountered such items (with the exception of dirt; they seemed to be very familiar with that), I explained what they were.

One of the ants suggested they rebuild the hill themselves. It was a bit insulting. Now, I will be the first to admit I have never built an ant hill, but I suspected their structure could not have been too complex. After all, it looked like a cone dirt pillow. I had made many piles of dirt into lovely pillows for nothing more than my own enjoyment. Surely this would be no different.

I was terribly wrong.

It turned out ants are very competent builders. There was so much beneath the surface I did not understand. After trying to shove the saucy napkins into an opening of the collapsed hill, the ants told me to stop. I had done enough.

I thanked them for the opportunity to try my hand at a new trade. They did not reply kindly. Instead, they demanded I leave behind the leaves, the can full of dirt, and one of the rabbit ribs (for some strange reason).

Feeling slightly accomplished (and slightly beaten down), I trotted back to my cave to resume my nap. As the blanket of sleep began to fall over me, I wondered if other complex things in the world seemed so simple at face value. I am a bear, and inside, I am still a bear (I think). Is Rob (the squirrel) a squirrel on the inside or is his squirrelness simply a facade?  Where does the outer layer of reality stop and why can our core beings be that outer layer? Why did the ants want my aluminum can?

I woke up a few hours later, hungry. As I exited my cave to do some foraging, I stepped on a wasp nest that had fallen from a tree.

Wasps are not as complex as ants or squirrels or bears. They like to sting things. That is about it.

I am a bear.

“Boris the Bear’s Circus Adventure Extravaganza of Suffer for Lonely, No” is the latest adventure you can read on helloiamabear.com! Please enjoy!

 

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.

Do not yell at trees.

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tree bear

You should not yell at trees for many reasons. First, and most importantly, they do not like it. While they have never vocalized this, I am eighty-four percent certain it is not a pleasant experience for them. Would you like to be yelled at? Of course not, and you are not even a tree.

If you would, for just a moment imagine being a tree: You are in the middle of a great forest surrounded by your brothers and sisters. A network of wildlife uses your body as a home and/or food source. You produce offspring and help the forest grow denser. You give shade to those who are too large to inhabit you. Some animals use you to mark territory or get rid of waste. Humans often deface you with strange carvings or, in horrible situations, try to take you out of the forest in cylindrical slabs. You have no defense mechanisms, but you must be strong at all times.

Despite being quite impressive and majestic, you are under constant duress to be something to everything.

Now that you are an imaginary tree and can empathize with the plight of trees, picture someone yelling at you. Perhaps your leaves were blown off your branches (something you had no control over) and they landed somewhere someone did not want them to land. Maybe your sap got on someone’s fur. Maybe someone just does not enjoy the texture of bark. Now, how would you feel if this hypothetical someone yelled at you for any of these reasons? Would you need that sort of pressure on top of all the other things you have going on in your life? Of course you would not.

The act of yelling at trees is simply pointless. It does not accomplish anything. You might think that yelling at a tree could be cathartic, but it does not make you feel any better. I know from first-paw experience.

I once tripped and tumbled, head first, into the base of an oak tree. Once I got to my feet, I loudly growled at the tree and asked why it felt the need to strike me. After a moment of silence, I felt ashamed for blaming the tree for my misfortune. After all, I was the one who tripped and tumbled. The tree had always been there. The same place. A constant for the forest. I was the one running about, causing unpredictable chaos. I tripped because of me.

What could I have expected from the tree anyway? If the absurd assumption that the tree was at fault was even remotely true, what could the tree do? No tree has never apologized (not that an apology from a tree has ever earnestly been needed), and this tree was not about to be the first to do so. My whiny howling did not deserve any response beyond what it received: just silence (or just the soft rustling of leaves in the wind).

Rob (the squirrel) once told me he yelled at a tree. He claimed that a tree had tried to run him over while he was crossing a street. I had no idea how or why a tree could or would do that. I also was not completely sure what a street was, but I did know that no tree could ever intentionally, upon its own will, do something so malicious.

I asked Rob (the squirrel) if yelling at the tree had made him feel better. He admitted it had not. He also admitted that the thing that had tried to run him over was likely not a tree. He then seemed embarrassed, which led to him hurling an acorn at my nose and running away. Even Rob (the squirrel), who is characteristically aggressive, blameless, and unashamed by nature, could not place blame on a tree.

Trees are your friends. Even if one falls over and smashes something you love, it is not the tree’s fault. They did not ask to be horizontal. In fact, I am seventy-six percent sure they abhor being anything but vertical. Unless you enjoy pointless acts and looking quite silly, please, do not yell at trees. There are better ways to spend your time.

I am a bear.

To read more thoughts from this particular bear, interact with the blue or grey parts of this statement. It would be fun.

It is nice to have things to remember.

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sun and moon (2)

I do not completely understand the purpose of remembering things. I know the ability can be useful sometimes. One time I buried a perfectly good rabbit skeleton next to an old, bug filled log. Several weeks later, I found myself wanting a rabbit skeleton to chew on in the middle of the night. I did not have one immediately, so I used a series of images and smells I remembered to go out and fetch the rabbit skeleton I buried by the log. If I had not had those memories, I would have had to find a brand new rabbit skeleton to chew on. Rabbit skeletons are not very easy to find.

However, for every rabbit skeleton my memories retrieve for me, they also do something that is not so useful or pleasant. All too often, I find myself suddenly remembering something terribly embarrassing for absolutely no reason. Even without putting any effort towards retrieving the memory, I will randomly be reminded of something I do not want to think about. I recently stopped lapping up water mid-drinking because remembering the time I accidentally ate a bee and it stung the inside of my cheek made me feel so embarrassed that I was felt stunned.

Why bother being able to remember embarrassing things? I already made the mistake or recovered from the particular instance of lapsed judgment, so why make me relive it? It seems like a cruel thing for memories to do. I suppose memories want you to be reminded so you will not make the same mistake again in the future, but surely there must be a better way to remind me of that than to make me relive my embarrassment and pain in such great detail.

There are other moments when memories fail to do what they are best at, which is reminding you of something. They might only remind you of parts of something important or just minute details that do not add up to a whole, coherent image. Memories will often only deliver moments of your life to your mind in sporadic, nearly nonsensical chunks. Fragments you have to put together as best you can. Pieces that will never quite fit together no matter how desperately you want them to.

I know I have not always been a single, lone bear. I know, at some point in my life, there were other bears with me. Large bears. Bears my size. Bears who licked the top of my head while I rested by the riverside. Bears who stood up on their hind legs with me, hurling their paws at my face in a playful manner. Bears who kept me safe. Kept me company. Kept me warm.

Those memories, the ones of the bears who must have been an important part of my life at some point, are scattered and difficult to recall. Those are the memories I want to recall, though. Those are the thoughts I want to be randomly reminded of while I sip river water. The fragments of those thoughts are so difficult to hold together, though. Sometimes I even doubt they are real. Maybe I made them up myself. I do not know.

I am still grateful that my head lets me have memories, though. Despite how painful or distant some of them might be, there are still many that are an absolute joy to have and cherish. One of my favorites happened late in the afternoon of an otherwise very regular day. The sun, with its lovely warmth and glow, was beginning to rest into the horizon. At the same time, the moon, with its proudly pale light, was beginning to rise from the horizon. For a little while, the two giants, who normally represented completely different feelings and ideas and temperatures for me, shared the sky above the trees. I stared at the scene for as long as it persisted.

Then a tiny a gnat got caught in my eye, a part of that memory that I feel more distinctly and vividly than any other from that moment.

I am a bear.

You can read more bear thoughts by clicking these lovely blue words.

More Human Questions, More Bear Answers

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I frequently get questions through Twitter and Facebook about various things. Whether it is life as a bear, things about the forest, bear advice, or personal questions, humans and (possibly) other creatures are always curious about all aspects of bear living. While I am not here to represent all bears, I do like to respond to these questions as best I can by using my personal experiences and viewpoints. I decided it might be nice to answer some more.

Human Question:

https://twitter.com/GramrgednAngel/status/560129494443630592

Bear Answer:
I have seen so many rocks, so it is hard to keep track of every single one of them. I did see one that I thought was shaped like a bear from afar. When I got closer, it was actually not shaped like a bear. It was also not a rock. It was actually a very angry raccoon holding a rock and hissing at me. And we were in a dumpster together. That was probably the neatest looking rock I have ever seen. Maybe.

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
Probably not. One time I put some cans I found into a hole I dug and waited for rain. Does that count?

Human Question:

https://twitter.com/DanMoffTarkin/status/560129882576138240

Bear Answer:
I once thought I had found an entrance to another dimension or some kind of time-warp, but it was actually an abandoned tent with a mother opossum nursing her children. I only know that because Rob (the squirrel) jumped inside, shouting something about going back in time and saving the prehistoric squirrel. He quickly ran out and reported a very angry opossum and several newborns. I hope that family of opossums is still living there, happy and healthy. Oh, and one time I found an acorn with two mismatched halves for a cap. That was fun, too.

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
I highly recommend rolling around on the ground for several minutes or until you get too dizzy to keep rolling. If you have done that already (you probably have), you should consider talking to as many trees as you possibly can. Trees have great things to say and are very open to sharing their thoughts and experiences.

Human Questions:

https://twitter.com/brianhicks/status/560136024039235584

Bear Answer:
Moss is maybe one of the greatest gifts of the forest. It is not secretly wet, it is openly wet (usually), which makes it great for chewing on, resting on, and smelling. It also looks wonderful with its relaxing grey and dark-green colors, making it perfect for constructing a hat or a lovely scarf. Moss is amazing. I highly recommend moss. Any kind of moss. I actually do not know if there are different types of moss, but if there are, you should try them all.

Human Question:

https://twitter.com/german68/status/560131335239790592

Bear Answer:
I have never met any mountain goats, but I am sure you can trust them. And even if they wrong you (and you know there’ll always be a few things, maybe several things, that you’re going to find difficult to forgive), there’s going to be a day you feel better.

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
You can eat snow.

Human Question:

https://twitter.com/infamy_infamy/status/560133503053205504

Bear Answer:
I do not have a five-year-plan. I understand it is good to plan and to have goals, but I usually try to enjoy whatever event or thing currently occupies my time. This is not always easy either, however. It is very easy to get distracted by what you do not know or want to know or know too well. I still try, despite often failing, to enjoy the taste of the tree I am licking or the fact that I am not being mocked by deer or the faint glow the moon has when it shines through a lightly cloudy night. Your five-year-plan should probably be to just do your best. Not much more can be asked of bears, or even human I would guess.

Human Questions:

Bear Answer:
The wind is very loud and very pleasant and makes your fur stand up and smells neat. I like the wind.

Human Questions:

https://twitter.com/NotGlennDanzig/status/560129894978715648

Bear Answer:
Smelling things. Licking new things. Finding new smells. Finding new tastes. Looking at things. Digging holes.

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
It is important to look for things to eat everywhere you go. Always keep your nose up and sniffing. If you are still truly unable to find anything to eat, you might need to ask for help. If you are kind enough and lucky enough, you might be able to find a friendly squirrel or raccoon who will not attack you and instead share their own findings. It is always better to ask for help than to go hungry. Being hungry is not fun.

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
I try not to think about it too much, but it is a realization I have had. It is not an easy thing to have in your brain as you try to traverse the forest in a peaceful manner. It is completely out of my control, however. If there were more I could do in a meaningful way, I would. I just try to occupy my brain with other thoughts.

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
Bees and I do not usually get along very well.

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
If you are being attacked by panic, the best thing to do is to remember that whatever is causing your panic to attack you is probably not always going to be making your panic attack you. Whatever it is, it will probably one day not be around, making your panic do awful things like attack you. You are not stuck. Also, try to think about trees or finding food in a trash can or moss or other lovely things that calm you down in moments of intense stress.

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
I think you should be more open to sharing the berries. Always share your berries.

Human Question:

https://twitter.com/Siryetiwarrior/status/560199319069130752

Bear Answer:
Not that I know of.

Human Question:

https://twitter.com/jkruppe15/status/560134161865138176

Bear Answer:
Regardless of gender, please do not urinate on or near bears. I would also suggest utilizing your mouth in order to make human speech patterns. I believe that is how most humans do it.

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
Yes.

Human Question:

https://twitter.com/mercythekitty/status/560176167173771264

Bear Answer:
Are you sure that was a rock? Rocks do not usually pinch unless they are under a lot of pressure.

Human Question:

Bear Question

Bear Answer:
Rob (the squirrel) is the only squirrel who talks to me. I see other squirrels all the time, but they seem too vested in whatever acorn related businesses they are working on to spare any time for me. Perhaps they have other bears to talk to.

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
Grow as much fur as you like until you feel you have grown enough. There is no such thing as too much fur. You should survey your current body mass and decide whether it is best to increase or decrease your size based on what other activities you decide to do besides foraging

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
I am absolutely content with being a bear. However, I sometimes wish I had thumbs. Thumbs would be nice.

Human Question:

https://twitter.com/vanilIite/status/560132843247251457

Bear Answer:
Of course. My moves consist mostly or rolling around on the forest floor, shaking my head, and tumbling. I call it the Doing the Bear. You should try it at home

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
I have endured many struggles as a bear. But I would say the toughest has been trying to get all the peanut butter out of a discarded jar. My tongue only goes but so far. Parting with the unattainable remnants at the bottom of a jar is the hardest thing I have experienced. That and coping with the deaths of fellow woodland creatures. That is hard, too.

Human Question:

https://twitter.com/Sethythebear/status/560186136329728001

Bear Answer:
Being a bear… And fur. Lots of fur.

Human Question:

Bear Answer:
Birds.  I am certain birds carry on conversations with the moon as they sing and whistle throughout the night and day. Who else would the moon talk to? Not me, apparently. I would like to talk to the moon.

 

Thank you, again, for asking me questions. I am always so taken aback by how interested many of you seem to be in my life as a bear. I apologize if I did not get to your question. There were so many to choose from.

I hope you enjoyed my responses. If you need more bear things in your life, you can read my bear thoughts on Twitter or try being a bear with my choose-your-own-bear-adventure story. I look forward to answering more of your questions sometime in the future.

Thank you.

-A bear

You are a bear. Do not let the baby bird die.

1 Reply

You are a bear. Your day, so far, has revolved around very bear things. You ate. You slept. You stared at a tree that had a very interesting branch on it. You ate again. You talked to a turtle who had interesting opinions about rocks and where they come from (the sky, he claimed).

It is a normal day for you, a bear.

Until you come back to your cave after remembering that you had a few berries hidden under some leaves waiting for you. Your intent was to come to your cave, eat the berries, perhaps nap, and then be back on your way to the forest to do more bear things. Your plans are suddenly shifted once you see a tiny bird sitting in your cave.

It is very small, this bird. Its feathers are covered in dirt and forest debris. Its eyes are closed. Its beak looks weathered, almost chipped. This tiny bird appears to be having a very hard time being a tiny bird. It looks like a baby. A baby bird.

Where is its mother or father?

Where is its nest?

Why is it here?

Does it need water?

Do rocks actually come from the sky?

You do not know the answer to any of these questions, but the last one is very far-fetched no matter how convincing and wise that turtle seemed to be.

The baby bird makes a terrible whistle/cough/hacking sound that you did not know birds could even make.

You choose to…

Human Questions, Bear Answers

1 Reply

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