Me vs The Bear

We’re two weeks away from our move date. I’m so close to being in my newly build house, with it’s built in garage. I can’t wait! We’ve been living in our rental house in rural Small Place for 50 weeks (which is about 34 weeks longer than expected), and so far have survived a mouse army invasion, daily face-offs with deer, tides of elk (kind of nice actually, you could even call them majestic), coyote hunt-festivities just outside our window (soooo fucking creepy, I’ll tell that story soon), cows defecating on our front steps (again, story to come), and chipmunks killing themselves in the kid pool (part of the upcoming mouse story.  There’s something about the rodents out here). 

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But no bears. In fact, in the almost full year we’ve been in Small Town, we’ve never actually seen a bear. And to be fair, I guess we still haven’t.

I know bears are out there. In town they are a constant problem because of garbage left on the curb for weekly pick up. This isn’t an issue for us, as we never get pick up outside of town, so we stored our garbage in a shed in the carport until we could take it to the dump.  The landlords had recommended this, and I feel like I can safely make the assumption that this was also their system. No mention of bears being a problem.  

Ironically, I’ve seen more bears in the city where I used to live than I ever have in the out of the way hamlet I currently live in. It was completely normal to go for a walk and have a big black bear wander across the path in front of you. There was even an occasion where two cubs playing bear-tag ran right at us before realizing we were there and veering off into the bush.  To be fair, that was a bit terrifying in a where’s-the-mother-bear kind of way, but in hindsight we didn’t get mauled, so it was neat to see.  

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that we haven’t seen a bear yet; we didn’t really have anything to offer them, so what reason would they have to show up? It wasn’t like I was tying salmon to my roof to lure them in, like some kind of demented nature photographer. And yet, apparently I didn’t need salmon, I had a room full of garbage. 

Two nights ago we were visited by what I am assuming was a bear. I assume this only because I have no visual proof, though I’d be surprised if it was something else. I’m pretty sure that even an enterprising bastard deer wouldn’t have been able to rip the shed door off its hinges.  Not even off it’s hinges, really. More like ripped the door and it’s entire frame out of the wall. And if some idiot were going to break into our garbage room, well, they can have it. They could have also just opened the door. So, probably a bear then. 

Door wasn't rated for determined bears,
also, fuck you white bag of cat food.

Truly I wasn’t sure if I was more concerned about the fact that a bear had gotten in and redistributed the contents of our garbage all over the carport and surrounding yard, or if I was simply impressed by the herculean feat of strength it would have taken to rip the door off. Also, I was a bit surprised I had slept through the demolition of part of the building. Usually I wake up if a piece of wood in the fireplace shifts. How did I miss a 200 pound hungry hungry hippo? 

The other incredible part of this chaos was how bloody picky the bear was.  It ate diapers, rotten leftovers, and plastic containers, but didn’t touch the brussel sprouts from a night or two ago. Really? Diapers over sprouts? I get that they brussel sprouts are one of the most (unfairly!) disliked foods around, but still, that’s just bizarre. You're a bear. Eat food that's actually food. 

The other thing the bear determined was unpalatable was a bag of cat food. This animal ate through a tupperware bin of stuffed animals, but wouldn’t touch the cat chow. It even went so far as to gently place the unharmed bag on top of the remains of the door it tore down, as if to say “Balls to you, I’m not eating that”. Not even a tooth mark in the bag. I have to say, I’m kind of glad I’m not a cat. The food must be horrific if even the bears think it tastes like shit. And they apparently enjoy diapers full of shit. Just saying.

So now we have a garbage room that is, effectively, unusable as a garbage room, and I still haven’t figured out where I’m going to store the trash for the next two weeks. Thankfully it should only be for two more weeks! New house, here we come!!!

Me vs Road Lemmings....again

Given that I have only just posted my rant about road lemmings, also known by their more common name: Deer, this update could be considered somewhat ironically timed.

Only days following my post about what a hazard these demon spawn are, Husband calls to tell me that he's ended one on the road. Actually, his exact words were something to the effect of 'the bastard jumped out at my truck, but I ran over him'. He handled it somewhat better than I would have. 

It took us less than a year of living out here to ruin a perfectly commendable 18 year streak of not killing anything while driving a vehicle. 

Again, I realize this sounds somewhat harsh, but humour me a moment. This half-witted deer leapt into the road in the total darkness pretty much as soon as it registered that there was an oncoming vehicle. We don't live in a place where there is a constant stream of traffic, so him and his tick-ridden buddy (who unfortunately continues to be part of the breeding population) could have crossed the road at ANY OTHER TIME and not become part of the pavement. No, they choose the one moment where some unsuspecting driver is happily driving along, and then leap. I am honestly thankful that Husband is ok. If I had been driving I probably would have had an shock-induced heart attack and driven off the embankment.  

I'm happy that the only thing we lost was the front part of the truck, and that the beastly thing went under the vehicle and not through the windshield. That said, I now have to worry about the fact that our up-to-this-point perfectly reliable vehicle will be written off, and there is no way we can afford anything else. 

Thanks deer. You're a bunch of assholes. 

Me vs. The Deer (aka Road Lemmings)

The deer in the town where we now live are, to understate the issue, a problem. They are also a topic of incredible debate around town.  If you ask a question or state an opinion about their overbearing, and un-deer-like presence in the Dairy Queen parking lot, prepare to lose some time you can’t get back. 

As far as I’ve seen, there are two main camps that like to weigh in on the deer issue: Cull The Fuckers, and Don’t Harm A Precious Hair On Their Magical Little Heads. I’m firmly in the former. Please allow me to explain why, as I’m not normally a ‘level the population’ kind of girl.

Most people have seen Bambi. Isn’t he cute being all awkward and fuzzy.  Awwww.  Trust me, I get the thrilling oooooh, pretty, it’s a deer! mentality, and I’m the first to admit that when we first moved up here I was stunned at how ballsy they were, and how MANY there were. I’ll even own that it was pretty cool to see them prancing around our driveway, and lounging in the front yard. Yes, they were munching on the trees and shrubbery, but hey, I’m a city girl and having deer in my yard is a novelty.

For about 2 weeks.

At that point, the prancing became hate-bouncing, and cute little Bambi became one more roadway projectile I had to navigate around. Or not. Your call, depending on your feelings about the deer population, and the strength of the bush bars on your vehicle.

I realize this sounds harsh, but I’ve seen a suicidally stupid deer very nearly cause a 4 car pile-up and get himself road salsa’d in the process. This wasn’t fun for the driver of the truck (I stopped to check), and likely wasn’t a great day for the deer either, although I can’t confirm as he couldn’t be reached for comment.  

Personally I’ve had more than my fair share of near deer misses as well, and I can imagine it’s only a matter of time before I end one. Sadly I don’t have bush bars.  Basically, I feel like I’m running a deer version of the gladiator gauntlet every time I head down to pick up milk.

The problem is that the deer, or as I prefer, Road Lemmings, are dumb as shit. They are at best a genuine safety hazard, and at worst maniacal psychopaths bent on taking out the humans through kamikaze missions and the depletion of our personal crops. And by crops I mean vegetable gardens, but still, it’s really annoying.

On more than one occasion I’ve seen them wait at the side of the road for a car to come and then run into it. Not, Oops I didn’t make it across fast enough, but Wait for it, here it comes, NOW! To me this is something of a metaphorical cliff, and they are the lemmings jumping off of it, or into it, as the case may be. I’ve even seen them bring 4 lanes of traffic to a dead stop while they meander across the road, and once the lane they’ve crossed starts moving again, the deer will reverse course and leap back into the cars that, previously unmoving, had started rolling ahead again. It’s insane.  

These deer are also fearless assholes. Again Bambi-huggers would disagree with me, but they are mean, yet chillingly docile-looking monsters.  If I see them on my driveway, I honk in hopes that I will remind them to show some deference to my giant land-beast of a van. Nope. I’m lucky if I get a derisive look shot my way.  If they had fingers, I’m convinced they would flip me off. They don’t, but I can tell they’re thinking it.

There have also been numerous reports around town that people and pets have been attacked by these seemingly harmless herbivores, and I can’t imagine that being deer-punched in the chest is much fun. I was even told at my office not to go outside if you saw the resident deer and her offspring out and about, and if I did make the ill informed decision to venture out, I should leave the door open so I could make a mad dash for safety should she show up. These are DEER. That’s just fucked up!

Out here in my new rural reality, I live in constant (and probably somewhat overblown) fear of cougars, I wouldn’t want to meet a grizzly bear on a hike, and there is always the silent killer – ticks. Basically, there are plenty of things that an anxiety-ridden person can be concerned about. But deer? Are you kidding me? Of all the animals out there that I shouldn’t have to worry about, Bambi ranks pretty high. But he shouldn’t. Because he’s an asshole.