Father Bear
This morning, I met a mother bear nursing her two young cubs in the middle of a paved urban trail. Bear encounters are not an unusual summertime occurrence where I live. Normally, I’d stop some safe distance away and watch with appreciation and wonder until they moved on. But this bear encounter was loaded for something different.
As I got out my phone and began to take a video, it occurred to me that these three beautiful (and dangerous) creatures were positioned directly between me and my own two cubs ahead of me on the trail, and that every second I waited increased the chance that my children would turn around to find me, instead encountering a cornered bearsome without me in a position to protect them.
So, instinctively, I did the contraindicated thing and kept rolling towards the bears. Within a moment, my movements became intent and large, simultaneously projecting respect for the mother bear’s fierce protection of her cubs, while using my eyes, rather than my voice, to say that I was serious about the safety of my own.
The mother bear, with cubs close behind, initially retreated down the trail ahead of me before stopping to turn and confirm my intentions. So cycled our divine dance for a few tense moments before she led her cubs back into the safety of the forest, allowing me to pass and reunite with my children.
It wasn’t until afterward that her huge paw of irony smacked me in the face…
This story is as old as the man who first stumbled into the space between a momma bear and her cubs, destined for a date with her motherly resolve. But this time, the roles were reversed, as if I were the bear separated from its young, and she were the unintentional initiator of the conflict.
In any case, I saw the whole of our interaction through the mother bear’s eyes. First, came the primal urge to protect my young. Then came the stream of communication calculus governing every micro-movement between us. Our peaceful outcome was decided by that ancient math. And it was clear how any lapse in resolve or judgement would have resulted in something different. Injured feelings, flesh, or fate… A powerful vision from one of nature’s fiercest teachers.
Once home, and curious what further wisdom I might glean from the encounter, I made the unfortunate error of asking the internet what it thought. Here is what Google’s AI overview had to say:
“Father bears do not care for or "love" their young. Male bears (boars) are solitary and do not form pair bonds with females. In fact, they pose a significant threat to cubs, as they will sometimes kill them. The responsibility of raising, protecting, and teaching cubs falls exclusively on the mother (sow).”
Oooofff…
The machines sure suck at interpreting this dance.
Thank you, Mother Bear, for showing me the steps.
