As I was bringing the garbage bin in from the curb, I noticed bear scat in my front yard, alarmingly near the side of my house. Yes, I knew it was bear scat because I was a Girl Scout at one point and had been fascinated by animal poop. Just to be sure, though, I Googled it when I came inside. Yes, definitely bear scat, and the bear had recently eaten lots of berries. It comforted me slightly to think that my bear visitor might be vegetarian.
I didn’t think much of it, except for the fact that the scat was fresh and very close to the house and a very large pile, which meant it probably came from a very large bear?
Today, a neighbor moved in across the street. I had intended to walk over and introduce myself. I was leaving the house this evening and noticed them sitting on their porch. I thought, “I’ll just check out the bear scat again and then amble over.” I looked at the scat and thought, “That is fresh. I wonder where that bear is.” I looked to my left, and there was the bear.
I hightailed it back onto my porch. My new neighbor was staring, probably wondering why I was running in my own front yard. I screamed, “Thar’s ah bear!” and then ran back into the house.
I stood for a moment, trying to catch my breath. I thought I was safe inside. The doors were deadbolted, right? Bears couldn’t pick locks, could they? Photos. Get photos.
I walked to the back door, and the bear was lumbering around, sniffing the ground, maybe eating acorns? Other food? Planning to pick my locks?
I took some photos and the bear lumbered away. I composed myself and walked across the street, introduced myself to my neighbor, starting with, “I normally don’t run screaming through my yard…”