April 10, 2026

Yesterday afternoon, I took our little dog for a walk. A short itinerary, just over the bridge and down the road to our neighbors’ chickens, who enjoy a bright sunny fenced-in yard outside of their huge, fortress of a gray barn. We weren’t far down the road on the other side of the brook when I stooped to pick up a particularly gleaming piece of quartz, when I stood up my eye caught movement, and about 30-40 yards away on the other side of the road was a black bear, similarly startled to have company.

Bisou didn’t bark, didn’t do anything but sit still and stare. I don’t even think her hackles were raised. She was not at home, and did not need to defend it. So many thoughts when through my mind. I wanted a picture, but thought better of it. I tried to estimate the bear’s size, my danger. I know that black bears aren’t aggressive, I’m reading an old John McPhee essay all about them at the moment, but I didn’t want to do the wrong thing. I took a step back to calmly retreat back over the bridge, and the bear turned and loped back into the narrow strip of woods between the road and the brook, headed toward my neighbor.

I kept looking, trying to see if I could spot its movement, when I saw it running through a little patch of open space where our chicken-owning neighbors hang their laundry, plant bushes, etc. It raced across the curve in the road, in front of their house (which sits right on the 90 degree curve) and up toward the chicken barn. I called my neighbor, who subsequently went out to check on her chickens, but confirmed later that they were fine, and saw no trace of the bear, who was moving fast, who wasn’t hungry for chickens or more human encounters, likely.

It was exhilarating. I can’t stop replaying the whole scenario. I’ve seen bears in my backyard—maybe even this one—messing with the feeder, but always from within the house. And I’ve seen their evidence in the form of strewn trash, knocked around barrels, and just the other day, scat (I guess I’ve confirmed now it was fresh). But I’ve never been out of doors in the immediate vicinity of one, looking, even for the shortest sliver of time, eye to eye. My heart still swells. What a perfect being.

Also: my wife reports that trout lily fronds have emerged in the patch where they do yearly along the brook. I heard a brown creeper yesterday afternoon when I returned to the house from my abbreviated walk.