Although there’s other stuff I could get into, interesting topics I’m confident readers would enjoy, it’s back to black bears — specifically a big Wendell bruin that may be attempting to befriend a dear old friend of mine, himself a large, bearded, bear-like man and gentle giant.

Who knows? Maybe the burly four-legged creature thought my buddy, Big R, was his long-lost brother or half-cousin. Stranger things have happened, I suppose. And remember, my buddy’s great-grandfather was a full-blooded Algonquian of the Ottawa tribe. So one never knows when it comes to relationships between Indians and wildlife, especially bears, for which a special place was reserved in Native Americans’ spiritual realm.

This, mind you, is the same pal I have previously written about regarding past bear capers. An old softball teammate, hunting buddy and personal friend, you may recall the story about the wounded bear he kept encountering in his yard, one that was walking on three legs and may have had a compound fracture to a front leg, judging from an ugly protrusion visible maybe a foot above a front paw. That big beast, likely a male, kept visiting my friend’s yard a year or two ago in search of easy victuals — you know, stuff like garbage, garden goodies and bird-feeder fare. My big buddy on a few occasions got eerily close to that wounded black beast out by his deck and on the driveway, even on occasion speaking calmly to it, telling it something to the effect of, “Hey Big Fella, this isn’t cool. You’re gonna have to screw before something bad happens.” Eventually the beast disappeared, probably as soon as wild berries and nuts ripened and called from the wildlands.

Well, folks, here we go again: same man, identical wooded Wendell home.

Having read my last two columns about a solitary bottomland bear I jumped one morning on my daily walk with the dogs — and how by the morning after I had jumped it from a dense narrow swamp, the bear had, to a farmer’s dismay, torn up five hay bales wrapped in white plastic along the woods bordering the 15-foot escarpment it ran up to flee us — Big R was thinking the grainy, faraway photo accompanying last week’s piece was weak. He knew many opportunities had over the years presented themselves to him, offering better shots of bears much closer if only a camera had been handy.

Then, lo, just like that, another golden opportunity arose, this time camera-ready. Big R was alerted to the bear’s presence by his yapping female Jack Russell Terrier, a little nipper nicknamed “Shuggie,” for Sugar, tied outside to the deck post and barking her fool head off. Big R, cell phone in hand, walked outside onto the deck, where, to his amazement, stood a massive black bear, which didn’t seem the least bit unnerved by human presence, never mind that of the little lap dog. No, the shiny beast just stood there docile, looking my buddy square in the face, making no threatening sounds, gestures or sudden movements. The Big R picked up Shuggie, wedged her into security under his armpit, snapped a quick shot with his cell phone camera and decided to go inside for a better camera that was handy. Plus, he wanted to put Shuggie inside, out of harm’s way in a crate.

When he returned to the deck, sure enough, the bear was still standing right there at the base of the stairs 10 or 15 feet away, quite comfy with the presence of my big buddy, who snapped several up-close-and-personal photos. At one point, the bear, curiously observing and listening to the sounds of the camera, even calmly placed its two front paws, one after the other, onto the first step, as though it was coming up to join my buddy, the thought of which got his wheels spinning off into wild places.

“Yeah,” he chortled, “I was thinking that, if he charged me, I may not have time to get inside. But that bear never made a threatening move. He just stood there like a pet that wanted to be my friend and follow me inside for something to eat.”

Could it have been the same bear, healed, that came around wounded previously?

“You know, that’s a good question,” he answered. “It could have been the same animal. Truthfully, I never even thought of that. He was bigger. That’s for sure. But he did seem awful comfortable around me and my yard. Maybe it was learned behavior. It’s possible.”

Did it favor a front leg?

“No, I don’t think so,” he answered, “but it’s possible because I was too focused on the bear itself to look for that. Maybe I can zoom into the photo and see if I can notice any imperfections in a front leg. Plus, if he comes back, which I wouldn’t doubt, I’ll check for a limp.”

It’s difficult to estimate the size of the bear, but my buddy stands 6 feet, 5 inches tall, weighed about 280 the last time I saw him and would blend nicely into any offensive-line quadrant of an NFL locker room. He said he had to go to the peak of his reach to hang his suet tubes from a rope, and the bear had no trouble tearing them down. He estimated it to be seven feet long on all fours.

“Those tubes are more than eight feet off the ground,” my buddy estimated, “and that bear’s head, standing on his hind legs, was right in the neighborhood.”

Ah, yes, nature’s classroom and the beautiful sights of big shiny-black bruins. They’re beautiful indeed to watch, but nothing even a big man like my buddy would want to wrassle, or invite in for dinner, for that matter. One playful swipe could ruin your day fast.