“OKAY, FOLKS, YOU WANT to be real quiet now,” Gary Porter said in a low voice.
Since a grizzly sow and two one-year old cubs were at that moment ten feet away, I wasn’t about to argue.
The sow was in the lead, rolling up the narrow path, dragging the backs of her paws along the ground, long, sharp claws hitting first when she put them down again. Her dark brown fur was thick and wet. Her head, lowered beneath powerful shoulders, was constantly in motion, swiveling between the fish in the creek and the fourteen of us reclining in camp chairs on the bank. Her eyes were little and mean. She didn’t look the least bit cuddly.
Bringing up the rear, looking wet, cold and hungry, the cubs were major whiners. It was one long continuous moan, Mom, I’m hungry, Mom, feed me, Mom, I’m starving, Mom, do I have to stay starved, Mo-oom!
Mom glanced our way. I felt like I’d wandered into the middle of Jurassic Park, and tried not to look like protein.
from “Exit, Pursued By a Bear” in Alaska Traveler.
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