I slowly lowered the heavy

I slowly lowered the heavy rifle and cautiously turned my head to see what they were looking at. A cow? I thought it was a black angus cow. Then it moved. It was a bear. A pretty big one. I smiled again. I have taken two bear in previous years, both with the bow and arrow. I have passed up many opportunities to take others since then. I have no problem with people hunting bears, but I so eiyoy seeing them in the wild, I usually just watch.

He ambled over to a mock olive bush. (My son says they are autumn olives.) He stood up as though he had been made to walk on two feet, not four. Then, he reached both front legs high into the bush, and pulled down a limb. When he did this, I almost changed my mind about shooting. He looked as big as the side of a barn. I smiled again, and continued to watch, still amazed. Where is he headed?

He fed on the berries for a bit, and then headed towards the end of the draw, from which the lone coyote had emerged. Then he was out of sight for awhile. The doe and the yearling continued their northerly trek, and were soon gone. I watched the gully and waited for the bear to come into view again, to see what he would do next.

He did not come out of the gully. My mind flashed to an event many years ago. Two young fellows were squirrel hunting and moving slowly, parallel to one another, along a river. They happened upon a turkey. One of them shot the turkey and it dropped on the spot. They continued hunting in the same direction, and, a bit later, a big red fox, also hunting, passed between them, hunting in the opposite direction. This is the truth; they did not shoot the fox. Probably should have. I won’t tell you in which county they were hunting.

After a bit, they converged, and headed back for their turkey. The last they saw of that big bird was as it was being