There was a day recently, in which having a dog would have come in handy. I had my first opportunity to act like a real life "Jack Pine Savage". A local so eloquently described for me the "forest people" here. He referred to them as “Jack Pine Savages”, and warned me to stay away from those types. I played it cool like I had met them before and could take care of myself, like the good, strong, independent California girl that I am. When, in fact, I still have no idea what he was talking about. So, I'll conjecture a bit, and get back to the "Jack Pine Savage" subject another day when I understand what he really meant. Suffice it to say that I am way off track.
Last week while my father was out getting groceries in town, I was shoveling the dirt out of his raised garden terrace so we could move it to our new home 8 miles down the dusty road. Off in the distance, I heard a soft cry, I tried to ignore it like I had been ignoring most of the sounds of the forest that morning. I was intensely focused on burning as many calories as I could before the sun came overhead, and the shadows of the trees no longer hid me from him. A half hour went by - maybe 250 calories burned - and the sad sound got louder in my ears with every minute that passed. It sounded like a child, about 18 months, crying like he was lost in the woods. My first thought was that sounds can be deceiving in the forest, so I went inside to find one of my father's guns. I felt so silly. I was going to go for a little stroll only about 50 yards away, and I thought I might need a gun? Regardless of the embarrassment of the situation if anyone had seen me, I still looked for something that would make a loud noise and maybe hurt something trying to hurt me.
I looked in every room for a simple .22 rifle, and all I found were shotguns. I have never fired a shotgun before, and none were loaded anyways. Why was it my first instinct to get a gun? It's probably nothing. Frozen from curiosity, I listened more closely to the cries. I thought it could very well be a baby bear who is stuck in a bramble or up a tree. If there is a mama bear anywhere nearby, I'd better be prepared. The guns were so heavy, and I have not been through any gun safety classes. If it came down to it, I would probably use it like a bat anyways. So I grabbed a very sharp hunting knife. Not thinking about how completely unprepared I really was, I began my slow, cautious walk through the waist-high grass in the direction of the cry.
Last week while my father was out getting groceries in town, I was shoveling the dirt out of his raised garden terrace so we could move it to our new home 8 miles down the dusty road. Off in the distance, I heard a soft cry, I tried to ignore it like I had been ignoring most of the sounds of the forest that morning. I was intensely focused on burning as many calories as I could before the sun came overhead, and the shadows of the trees no longer hid me from him. A half hour went by - maybe 250 calories burned - and the sad sound got louder in my ears with every minute that passed. It sounded like a child, about 18 months, crying like he was lost in the woods. My first thought was that sounds can be deceiving in the forest, so I went inside to find one of my father's guns. I felt so silly. I was going to go for a little stroll only about 50 yards away, and I thought I might need a gun? Regardless of the embarrassment of the situation if anyone had seen me, I still looked for something that would make a loud noise and maybe hurt something trying to hurt me.
I looked in every room for a simple .22 rifle, and all I found were shotguns. I have never fired a shotgun before, and none were loaded anyways. Why was it my first instinct to get a gun? It's probably nothing. Frozen from curiosity, I listened more closely to the cries. I thought it could very well be a baby bear who is stuck in a bramble or up a tree. If there is a mama bear anywhere nearby, I'd better be prepared. The guns were so heavy, and I have not been through any gun safety classes. If it came down to it, I would probably use it like a bat anyways. So I grabbed a very sharp hunting knife. Not thinking about how completely unprepared I really was, I began my slow, cautious walk through the waist-high grass in the direction of the cry.
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