He sniffed, explored, rustled in the grass. He had a glorious time. Then it happened . . .
Huckleberry Bear Bear wanted a nap.
Huckleberry Bear Bear found a cozy hole between two big rocks all hidden in some bushes. It was so inviting. Just right. He settled in.
He made himself comfortable. He even made a sun-warmed rock into a pillow. What a smart bear!
After a while we tried to bring him home. He didnt want to move. As a matter of fact he refused to budge. We watched the cold rain clouds move closer and the sun begin to set.
But Huckleberry Bear Bear is 700 pounds. That is a lot of bear for any human to try to move.
You have to be patient with a bear. You can’t raise your voice; you can’t hurry him along. You are now on bear time and that’s final.
“Huckleberry Bear Bear”, we were thinking, “its only 500 ft. back to were we started. Come on Huckleberry Bear Bear!”
He was lying on his ample belly. We enticed him with marshmallows, his favorite treat. (Most of the time he gets fresh fruits and vegetables but in an emergency you do what you have to do. . .) He would roll out his long long tongue and snap it back with the marshmallow on its sticky tip. If we put it just out of reach he would heave his bulk just far enough along the ground to reach it, but if we put it too far away he would say no way. Not worth the trouble. Little by little Huckleberry Bear Bear moved, up one inch, back six. “Come on Huckleberry Bear Bear”, we yelled in our heads. But what could we do but wait?
So we waited. . . . . . and waited. . . . . . and waited. . . . .
And then it happened. He decided to go home.
It only took three whole bags of marshmallows and an hour and a half of patience to get him there. And the cold cold rain held off just long enough.
Next time, we will look at the weather before we start a bear walk.
But no matter what, you are a good bear Huckleberry Bear Bear.
“All the king’s marshmallows and all the king’s men, couldn’t get Huckleberry Bear Bear back home again.”
I sponsored an old horse named Nomad for several years. When he was about to be retired (and moved an hour away), I took him for a favorite walk and sang him a song that we could be together any time just by thinking of each other. A few years later, when Nomad was almost 40 years old, I was doing a morning meditation, and Nomad came to me. He rubbed the soft, furry side of his mouth along my cheek (my favorite), and there was a message that he would be right there with me any time I needed or wanted him. It was very odd, because there was no reason I should have been thinking about him that day, and it was as if he was REALLY right there with me, physically. About an hour later, I got a phone call from his owner, Dee, whom I was supposed to be meeting with that day. She sounded like she had a cold, but instead, had been crying. “Nomad died this morning, a couple of hours ago,” she said.
Nomad was a Buddha, if ever a horse could be. This was his way of telling me that I would not have to cry or to say goodbye, because he would always be right there with me. I now count on him to be walking with me when I am out hiking in his favorite spots. I wait a while by the streams that he loved to listen to as he grazed. I feel his presence, his grace, his acceptance, and most of all, feel the softness of his fur on my cheek. After he died, we did a photo book on Nomad, and filled it with the stories about him told by his many sponsors and admirers over the course of 40 years of his life. In one case, he even had three generations of women from one family who had sponsored him.
I wanted to add another note to my story about Nomad: Interesting that he came to me a couple of hours BEFORE I was given the news of his death. It is as if he wanted to counteract any possibility of my feeling deep grief or loss, and to accept his death in peace. He was saying to me “Its just my body passing. I am still very much here for you.” It is also interesting that I feel moved to share this story with you, because I felt so sad to see your video about the death of your lovely cougar and to see your obvious grief. Your cougar is still here with you too.
Inspired by Rose DeDan’s shamanic journey with our cougar Windwalker soon after he left the earth, an artist and a musician from California Institute for the Arts, who had been touched deeply during his life, worked together to express Rose’s vision through music and film.
Have you ever made room in your bed for a bear? Think about this question before you answer or seem startled by the proposition. It is estimated that 42% of American children are soothed by a cuddly bear each night.
Every night I partake in a bedtime ritual with my 6-year old son. We gently arrange his growing collection of stuffed puppets (as they are warmly referred to) in the bed; each head receiving a spot on the soft pillow and each body warmly ensconced under the blanket. It occurred to me one day that 75% of this collection represented animals that live in the wild- wolves , raccoons , penguins and of course, bears . I still remember the wide –eyed look I received after tucking a pocket-sized green bear in a box and presenting it to my son after his first Christmas show performance. He was ecstatic and proceeded to show and share Green Bear with all his friends. Green Bear found a special place in his jacket, zippered up snuggly with his head popping out to enjoy the world as my son carted him from place to place.
The bear is an admired soul in my young son’s life. The bear enjoys elevated stature compared to human playmates. We read adventures of bears in his weekly library books; some favorites are the extensive Berenstain Bear collection and The Valentine Bears, a sweet story about a loving bear couple that come out of hibernation prematurely to exchange Valentine’s Day cards. We watch Kenai and Koda, the star bear protagonists in the movie Brother Bear 2, the sequel to the Academy Award nominated animated film that grossed over $250 million. Boog, a 900 pound domesticated grizzly bear dazzles his audience in the movie, Open Season, a delightful animated film grossing over $200 million and with a sequel to boot. These movies have impacted not only my son, but the world.
As you go about your day, take a moment to reflect on your childhood memories of bedtime companions. Why as a child were you so drawn to animal companions? Many educators believe that early attachments provide a working model for life’s subsequent relationships. If this is the case, should our beds not be filled with wild animal friends? When do we begin to fear wild animals? If you are still curious about your feelings toward wild animals and are still curious about the wonders of bears, perhaps a retreat at Earthfire and an encounter with Humble Bumble or Huckleberry Bear Bear will fill a special space in your heart. Have you made room in your heart for a bear?
Once a week we do a meditation on Earthfire’s vision which includes Hannah, a volunteer who lives in England. We start at 7:30 am our time and she at 2:30 her time. At the end of an hour she gives us a call and we discuss what arose for each us. This time she said a bit sheepishly, “What came up for me was carrots. Images of carrots.” At first I thought she said parrots and I thought of a remarkable one I knew but she said, “No, CARROTS. Does that make any sense?”
I told her what happened yesterday:
Robert, our farrier, had come to trim the feet of Jenny, the very ancient donkey we are honored to care for. She is very very ancient. When we first got her several years ago the vet came to examine her. We asked her age, he said “ She was born before Nixon’s first term.”
I came out to meet Robert who had been looking her over. He said, “Susan, you’ve got to put Jenny down. She’s depressed, moping, in pain. The wound on her back isn’t healing and her feet are falling apart.” I said, “Please do her feet. She still wants her carrots. If she wants her carrots, she still has a zest for life, and I’m not going to take that from her.” I described how, as we led her to the area where he was going to work on her, we passed the bag of carrots I always bring out in preparation for the event. They were several yards away but she started veering towards them, catching the scent even in the cold air and through the plastic bag. Food is a big part of her life.
Robert started working on her feet as we fed her the carrots. She took them with her usual grumpy acceptance.
We shared our thoughts about when, if ever, does one euthanize an animal? He had worked on big ranches where the animals were generally put down rather than nursed, especially if they were no longer “useful.” But Jenny is very useful; let me count the ways:
1. She certainly considers herself useful to herself. She thinks she is quite important and lets us know her rights and demands and opinions without any hesitation.
2. We love her.
3. She adds great character to Earthfire. She is the first to scream for food in the mornings, her raucous bray ricocheting around the ranch. She is the first to scream for food in the evenings, the loudest voice of all the animals. When we try to sneak extra treats to her she always gives us away as we approach, and the other donkeys and horses and buffalo come pounding from across the field. If we try to sneak by her to go to the yurt, she gives us away again.
4. She also is adorable with a great soft fuzzy gray forehead, hair covering most of her soft brown eyes and the very best longest donkey ears.
5. She has presence and dignity. No pushing HER around.
6. And she leans into us for petting. How can that not be useful?
But basically we are very reluctant to take an animal’s life under any but the most dire circumstances, and with Jenny, certainly not if she still lusted for carrots. Robert really loves animals and horses and donkeys. As we talked he softened and said “Yes, I can see that way of doing things. I’m just not used to it.”
Because we respected his opinion we called Summer, our vet, to look at Jenny again, see if she was in pain, and to re-dress the wound on her back which was actually healing. Very slowly, but healing. She was certainly old, slow, a bit hang-dog and not enjoying the winter cold and deep snow. But she loved her attention, her hay, and her carrots. As a wild donkey captured many years ago from the wild, in the Bureau of Land Management wild horse and burros round-ups, she did not have carrots. They loom large in her world.
Summer said she didn’t think it was time, so we left things as they were, her dainty hooves trimmed to Robert’s artistic and exacting specifications.
Back to Hannah and her images of carrots. Why did that come up for her? Was it a coincidence? If it was from Jenny and her will to live, how did Hannah pick that up? How did Jenny convey that? She never met Hannah, who lives across the Atlantic ocean. That was the only image Hannah “got” during that meditation and it was a strong one; it kept coming up for her.
I wonder at the implications of events like this. It hints at a reality much larger and richer than the one we normally inhabit, just waiting for us to tune in and enjoy. A reality in which we are all connected in unseen ways and sometimes can feel, if we are able to be quiet inside and attend to the softer knowings that come to us.
As always, comments, stories and personal experiences welcome.
PS – I read somewhere that carrots share 50% of our DNA
Named after a passionate earth-mother wolf with a fire in her belly to protect anything vulnerable, Earthfire was founded in 2000 to develop a new model of relating to nature through the voices of the rescued wildlife>
Summer said she didn’t think it was time, so we left things as they were, her dainty hooves trimmed to Robert’s artistic and exacting specifications.
Nomad Lives by Jennifer Sauer
