A couple of wildlife incidents to report from the home front, one involving a bear
related to a bigger story, the other an otherwise insignificant little skunk.

First the bear, which appeared out of nowhere in my back yard on the gray
evening of Aug. 16, just before 8:30, me in the shower, my wife watching TV. It must have been movement that drew her attention from the TV and into the backyard alcove near a quite table, umbrella and chairs where, lo and behold, stood a big black bear, up close and personal. My wife says the animal stood on all four feet higher than the table at the shoulders and was silky black with a brown nose, “just like you see in the pictures,” a wonderful sight.

I too had caught black movement through the same windows on my way around the corner to the shower but didn’t investigate, assuming it was female barn cat Blackie scooting from the barn cellar to the woodshed, a common sight from the skittish animal my adult kids describe as “sketch.” I was already in the shower when my wife entered the bathroom excitedly announcing the presence of the bear right out the window. The bear had disappeared by the time I exited the shower stall to investigate. She said it had heard her talking to me, met eyes through the window some 10 feet away and sauntered off toward the brook in no great hurry. I would characterize her as in awe following her first close encounter with a bear, one many folks live an lifetime without experiencing, and I had no reason to doubt her, given the black streak had earlier ignored and the aggressive
barks emanating from my backyard kennel along the brook it had crossed to depart.

Because it was alone, I figured it was probably a male, or boar, that had been drawn to the yard by the ripe front-yard apple tree that has never in my 12 years on-site been so productive. I also was near certain my assessment would be proven in the morning by damage to the tree. Hungry bears have a tendency to break large branches from apple trees when feeding, and I assumed I’d find such “pruning” the following morning. Well, it didn’t exactly happen as expected, no morning apple-tree damage, but after midnight there was indeed a large limb down as I pulled into my driveway from work. Since then, no sign of the bear and no reports from neighbors, so I guess it
was just passing though. Then again, it may return for future pruning of my apple tree and those of my neighbors before all is said and done. Time will tell.

On the night of the sighting, I will admit I was a little concerned for my dogs, and I checked them a few times to make sure there had been no bear attack. Although I have heard of bears attacking backyard dogs one way or another contained, I didn’t expect it to
play out in my yard, thinking it a long shot that the bear would bother two adult dogs inside a chain-link kennel seven feet high. And indeed nothing of the sort occurred. Then, early this week I gained perspective during a telephone conversation with an East Colrain neighbor and distant relative who I suspected had experienced many encounters with backyard bear-dog encounters. Confirming my suspicion, he said his dog often chases bears from his yard, and that the bears flee, sometimes treeing to get out of harm’s way. He told of one occasion, with guests visiting and a bear treed, the curious visitors went
into the backyard to observe the bear closer. After a short while, the big animal objected to the gawkers and descended the tree trunk to the ground, where the dog took after it, nipping at its heels to disapproving grunts. Even then, the bear never turned to confront
the dog. On another occasion, the same dog returned home from a ride with the man’s late wife and, as they approached their driveway parking place, sure enough, a bear stood at the corner of their barn. When the woman let the dog out of her car it immediately chased the bear, and they both sprinted halfway across a field before the bear stopped,
wheeled around and froze, face to face with it’s pursuer. They appeared to touch noses momentarily, briefly sniffing at each other before turning and trotting off in opposite directions, the bear toward the woods, the dog homeward.

So I guess it’s not impossible that a local black bear would attack or even eat a dog, but it appears unlikely, even though I’m sure there are those who’ll read this and
beg to differ. Either way, a general rule of thumb regarding bears is that they’re nothing for man or beast to fool with. If you don’t believe it, try it, and be prepared to suffer the consequences.

That leads me to the aforementioned “related bigger story” concerning bears, specifically the opening of the split, 25-day Massachusetts hunting season on Tuesday. The September segment provides 17 days during the heaviest foraging period for bears, when wild fruits, nuts and berries become plentiful, and cornfields ripen. Orchard growers and dairy farmers alike look forward to hunters’ assistance in removing troublesome bears that cut into their profits and time. The second segment of the season
provides 18 days between Nov. 2 and Nov. 22, when bears are still out there for the taking but can be more difficult for hunters to pattern. Expect about 150 bears to fall this year, most of them during September, when hunters will post well-worn trails leading to and from orchards and cornfields. Those who prefer avoidance of agricultural acreage locate productive nut groves and berry patches frequented by hungry bears, which love hickory nuts, beechnuts, walnuts and acorns.

As for the skunk on the home front, well, there’s actually more than one, and I’ve been aware of their presence for months, usually around my sheds, barn and outdoor cat-feeding stations. First there were two adults, then two little ones my wife once snapped close-up digital photos of standing two abreast atop the Iams cat foot in rusted, No. 9 Griswold skillet on my porch. I promptly moved the feeding station to the shed, where it took the skunks little time to find it, so I relocated it to the backyard woodshed, which they quickly found. My chief concern about skunks is that they’ll spray my dogs, not the worst thing that can happen but not enjoyable, either. So, I had been both cognizant and capable of keeping my Springers away from the stink bombs until Sunday at halftime of the Patriots’ preseason loss to the Eagles.

Just before dark I went to the barn, released little Bessie from the box stall where I had fed her, reached for her empty dish I intended to put away and heard a hiss and commotion that sounded like a harmless cat confrontation, then a scampering dog’s nails on the barn floor. When I broke through the threshold of the stables into the main runway, Bessie was sneezing and rubbing her face frantically with her paws as the young skunk waddled right past me, within kicking distance, and into the stable, where it hid. I wasn’t expecting it in the barn and I got burnt before I knew what hit me. It was Bessie’s first introduction to a skunk, and she didn’t enjoy it one bit, a direct hit to the face. She vomited a small pile of Iams pellets at the back door before exiting to the backyard and furiously scraping her head and shoulders on the lawn, trying unsuccessfully to remove the skunk’s spicy spray. She soon got over it, sort of, and Lily and Ringo knew exactly what had happened as soon as they got whiff of her, running excitedly to find the culprit before I called them off.

Ringy’s an old veteran of skunk attacks. He too took a direct hit the first time, but never again. He has never stopped pestering skunks but has learned to sidestep the mother load, taking only a light dose. I suspect his daughter will soon acquire the same skill. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if she already has it down. I have faith in Little Bessie. She exhibits intelligence and enthusiasm, two admirable traits in a bird dog, qualities she’ll soon get to display in the field.

That’s about all I’ve got for now … life and times from the Meadows … tavern fare.