Have you ever heard a bear roar? I had not until tonight. And it is a tremendous sound.

There are poachers out tonight, there dogs hollering, and they found a bear right across the river, right by our house, and the fight that ensued could be heard clearly from our deck. And it was frightening.

Yes, I’ve called the game warden. Andrew even hopped in his car and talked to the guys. “Ya huntin’?” he asks, as if it excites him, too.

And they’re stupid with excitement. “Yeah, yeah! A sow and a cub just run through here!” they answer.

“Huh. That’s funny. Bear season’s not for another week.”

“Yeah. Uh. We’re just runnin’ the dogs,” one says.

While Andrew’s gone I hear a gunshot reverberates through the valley. Yeah, right.

I call my friend who works for the Forest Service. She tells me that yes, I should call. And so I do. The game warden calls me back. Talks to Andrew, who has returned, and gets a description on the trucks. The warden is headed out this way, and I can still hear the bear dogs off in the distance. I hope he finds the motherf*ckers and slams them.

In my mind, hunting is only ethical if you:
a. follow the rules
b. take no more than you can eat (and actually eat it)
c. keep the balance of power even, so there’s a sporting chance.

Otherwise, it’s just an excuse to kill something.

Later, after the dogs moved off, Andrew stood on our deck and listened carefully to the scrubby overgrown field next to our house. He heard the snort of a bear. We hope it was the sow, and her cub.


Comments

— 4 Comments

  1. told you there were bears out there that night… thankfully the hunters near us seem to be a bit more respectful. oh, i can’t wait to get more bear meat!

  2. I’ve never had bear meat, but I’d like to try it, I guess. I understand that the hunting is actually necessary–last year in my county alone they took out 45 bears and god knows if those 45 bears were still around here they’d probably be prowling around looking for puppies and children to eat–but after hearing that bear roar, and knowing she was a momma, well, it just makes me a little sad in a bambi kinda way. I just dig momma bears. I think it’s because once I became a momma my own inner momma bear came alive. ROAR! You wanna Fuck with my babies! ROAR!!!! You will have to deal with me first! ROOOOOAAARRRR! I think I’m gonna write a poem about this. How exactly to say ROAR though. Hmmm. haven’t figured that one out.

  3. um…. how about Roawar? yeah: i got my onwn brand of momma bear (grrr). it’s truly a necessity for most of the locals who hunt here and i’m glad to know they use the meat and share it.

    it’s actually very yummy: i usually make it like a pot roast to cut down on my work time with the meat, which, unlike other kinds, doesn’t separate so well. we’ve also had it in cube-like chunks, kinda like beef tips, marinaded in some good worchestershire sauce and spices.

    we also like to hear the old-timers here talk about how back in the olden times you HAD to hunt for food– guess all those canned green beans and frozen corn got old during the winter months. they tell us stories about trapping (which i’m more a proponent of) animals, the days and toil needed to secure a spot to trap all kinds of things like opossum,bear, turkey, deer (usually they used crossbows, which take more time and skill, imho), etc. it’s amazing to think that there weren’t more vegetarians then!

    YESYES– write a momma protection poem.
    grrrrr!

  4. Me and the kiddos were talking about bear meat just this afternoon. There are bear hunters everywhere today. One even tried to drive up my driveway when I was fetching my mail. I turned and gave him a cold stare. Then he made out like he was looking for his dogs. Asked me if I’d seen any stray dogs. Stray my ass. Dude, they’re wearing radio collars. What do you think, I’m an idiot? Sorry, wrong woman. What you were really thinking was that my driveway looked like it might be a nice road to drive up and try and get a signal for your “stray” dogs. blech.

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