Among the many comments in response to my last post, were hundreds of cautionary tales from people who wanted me to know that the bear that burgled my buddy’s cabin would probably return for a second helping. I was well-aware of this possibility and truth be told, somewhat concerned, because the window through which the bear had entered previously was damaged, and impossible to secure. So, I did what I could to discourage another nocturnal visit.
On the stone pillar outside the window – which the bear had climbed before entering – I placed a heavy steel grate. Onto the grate, I placed two heavy umbrella holders. My thought was, if the bear tried to get back in the same way, he’d knock everything off the stone pillar, and create a racket sufficient enough to awaken me.
To further dissuade him (or her, or possibly “them,” for all I knew), I positioned a large fan toward the broken window from the inside of the kitchen. To stabilize the fan, I placed my ruck pack – with 50lbs of dead weight – onto the base of the fan and turned it on. It was very loud, and that was good. I figured the bear had probably never been confronted before with the sound of whirling steel blades and might be put off by the unexpected wind that would blow straight into its face should he stick his head through the window. Then I peed all over the stone pillar.
I hesitate to share this detail, because I know that Jim, the owner of the lake house, follows this page. But he deserves to hear the truth. We used this approach in the Boy Scouts years ago, and it always worked. I hoped it would work here. Also, in the interest of full disclosure, Freddy joined in. He seemed perplexed at first, having been chastised many times over the years for peeing in inappropriate places, but clearly sensed the rules had changed, and happily assisted me in spraying down the area as thoroughly as possible.
After that, I built a fire, poured myself a nightcap, and watched the longest acceptance speech in the history of political conventions. Then I went to bed, said a quick prayer for the country, locked the bedroom door behind me, and fell asleep, hard.
Six hours later, the sun was rising, and so was I. I walked to the kitchen to make a thermos of iced coffee to bring on my morning ruck. But alas, the Keurig was no longer on the counter. Neither was the toaster oven, the cutting board, the telephone, my wallet, my computer, or the bottle of Knobel Tennessee Whiskey I’d opened the night before. They were all 
on the floor, along with a large fan whose blades were no longer whirling, and my ruck pack – filled with 50lbs of dead weight – that had been dragged across the kitchen for no apparent reason. Happily, my wallet and computer were intact. But the bottle of Knobel had shattered, and there was no sign of its delicious contents – only shards of glass all over the floor. Oh well. At least the bear had good taste in whiskey.
The window, incidentally, had not been pried open this time – it had been ripped entirely out of its sill. Like before, the refrigerator and freezer were both open, as was the pantry, but there wasn’t much left inside since the previous raid. The cupboard was bare, as it were, and the bear was clearly not pleased by the lack of sugary treats. Nor was he impressed with my attempts to make him feel unwelcome. Outside, the steel grate and umbrella holders were lying on the deck, which Freddy sniffed with interest, wondering perhaps, how he could have slept through such a racket, or if he should pee on them again.
The next few hours were spent implementing a more effective approach to bear avoidance. No more fans and umbrella holders. Once again, I used Starlink to tell Jim, who is in Arizona, that his lake house was under assault by a bear of unusual determination. Jim wasted no time. His handyman arrived an hour later with some ¾” plywood and the necessary tools to cover the gaping hole in the kitchen wall. (Thanks Rodney!) Then, The Bear League arrived. That’s right, The Bear League – a group of no-nonsense volunteers who are, according to their website, “committed to keeping bears safe and wild in their natural habitat.”
I assumed their mission might also include some modern strategies for discouraging bears with a taste for bourbon from breaking into lakeside cabins, and I was right. Kathy and Ron 
arrived with an “electric bear mat,” a pressure sensitive contraption with metal slats attached to an American Farmworks Electric Fence Controller. They placed it beside the stone pillar, and told me it would deliver a burst of electrical current into whatever stepped on in.
“Hopefully, this will do the job,” said Ron.
“I hope you’re right,” I said.
“Don’t pee on it,” said Kathy.
“That goes for your dog, too,” said Ron.
“Thanks,” I said. “I won’t, but Freddy only learns through experience, I’m afraid.”
“Well,” said Ron, “that’s not an experience I’d recommend.”
As Freddy barked at the Bear Mat, Kathy and Ron moved on to the next bear emergency, and I finally got started with my morning ruck, at 3 in the afternoon. It really is beautiful up here, and a great gift to walk around this splendid lake, and behold these magnificent mountains, reveling in the miracle of nature, in all its glory.
Now, let’s see what this evening brings…