The Don't-Care Bears
When we visited Wyoming for the first time, we were nervous. Between the signs, the pamphlets, and the verbal warnings from rangers, we got the impression that we would be encountering innumerable crowds of bears. Big bears. Bears that wanted nothing but our flesh.
So we did what you are supposed to do: Lock up your food. Hang your food. Make noise in the forest. Don’t wear smelly stuff.
And of course, we bought the things you are supposed to buy. Bear bells to jingle on the trail? Got ‘em. A bear horn? Have that too. Bear spray? Yup, we shelled out a preposterous amount of money for the potent pepper spray.
We studied the techniques for avoiding an attack when encountering the different types of bears: Look big. Don’t run. Talk to the bear in a low, non-threatening voice. If things escalate . . . well, I forget. Guess I have to study that again.
Because we haven’t – thankfully – had to practice. In all our bear encounters, things have never escalated. Not even close. Well, there was the time in Glacier National Park. There was a large black bear right ahead of us beside the trail. We stopped and the kids reminded me to talk in a low, non-threatening voice. So I sang Winnie-the-Pooh songs to him and he ran away. In fact, every bear we have ever seen has run away from us in terror or has been completely unaware of us. We hope it stays that way. And we carry all our bear deterrents and take all the precautions.
Except for last week.
We couldn’t believe we snagged a last-minute spot at a campground near Grand Teton. It is one of our favorite spots in the country. Breathtaking jagged mountains rising up in shocking contrast to the plains to the east. Countless wildflowers. Abundant moose, elk, foxes, wolves, antelope – and bears. Plenty of bears.
We were there, though, for the lakes. Deep, cold, clean, turquoise lakes. Lakes where we could paddle around and explore and swim and fish. Jenny Lake is, of course, my favorite, but today we were paddling Leigh Lake for the first time.
Jenny Lake
On our way there, we rolled to a stop as we came upon a clogged and crowded road. We rolled our eyes and sighed. Another bear. Another traffic jam. Like yesterday and the countless times before. Park rangers had lined up cones for boundaries. People were setting up enormous cameras on tripods. Others were milling about, pointing, shielding their eyes to see. Some had unfolded chairs beside their cars. All to view the speck of brown that was a distant bear. I couldn’t help but smile at all the excitement.
We inched through the crowd and eventually we made it to the lake. We got all of our things out of the car: paddle boards, paddles, life jackets, wetsuits, snorkel gear, fishing gear, lunch, rain gear – everything but our bear deterrents. We wove through the cars and the people to the trail, balancing everything in our arms and chatting together. We made it to the shore of the lake and began pumping up the boards and arranging everything on them. Then we carried it all down the bank, slipping on mud and dropping our paddles. We slid the boards into the lake and tried to get on without getting wet.
After a lot of hollering things like, “Whoa! Wait! Ouch!” we all were finally situated. We dipped our paddles into the smooth, glassy water and slid forward and suddenly all the chaos was worth it and it was wonderful.
We explored all morning along the edge of the lake. We noticed some land jutting out in the distance, and we made this our goal. After coming around to the north end of it we discovered that it was a good-sized island. We paddled around it and found a cove of shallow water over smooth, rippling sand. From this cove we could look across the water at the towering peaks of the Tetons.
Leigh Lake
We decided to stop and spend some time here. We ate our lunch on the beach and then began to explore. We ran up and down the hilly island, discovering a new flower and a lot of fire ant mounds. I mentioned that it would be a great place for a bear to find a meal since there were so many downed, rotten trees that were sure to be full of tasty grubs.
We walked across the grass, carefree as can be except for dodging the ant mounds.
Suddenly, Paul caught his breath. “There’s a bear!”
Everyone stopped. And there, right in front of us, was a young grizzly. Not a cub, but not quite grown up yet either.
I looked frantically left and right. Where was this bear’s mother?
I immediately ran back a few steps, looking behind me as I did so. We all did.
Wait. Stop. You aren’t supposed to run.
We all stopped again and stood looking at the bear. He stood looking at us. And then, with an air of complete apathy, he put his nose to the ground and began snuffling for ants.
We backed away slowly, talking in low voices and trying to stick close like we were one giant animal. We kept looking back, half expecting to see him charging us.
But he didn’t charge us. He looked at us as if we were just too much trouble to bother with. He just didn’t care.
We arrived at the small beach where we had left our paddleboards and began gathering our things to leave the island.
“Wait, guys!” I said. “We didn’t get a picture!”
I hopped on the board I share with Caleb and began paddling along the shore, in the direction of the bear. Everyone followed on their boards. As we turned toward the north side of the island, we scanned the shoreline and beyond for any glimpse of brown or movement.
As we drew near to the bend where the shore of the island turned back to the south, I noticed a rustling in the bushes on a small peninsula. I told myself it was the wind as I quietly paddled closer and waved everyone over.
And there in a gap between the bushes a larger grizzly bear appeared, padding along in the sand. Mama. It had to be.
My heart raced and my hands shook as I grabbed my dry bag and fumbled to get it open and retrieve my phone. I was excited and scared at the same time. She was so close we could see the dampness of her shaggy fur. Somehow it seemed safe that we were separated by water, although we drew more assurance from the fact that she also didn’t care. It was almost irritating that we didn’t even matter to her at all.
We spent a good part of our afternoon in what would become an unforgettable experience. As the bear slowly made her way around the perimeter of the island, she stopped every so often to tear at the ground and the downed trees with her enormous claws. Then she would lick up the ants that she had disturbed. Some would crawl over her face and she would paw at her nose and shake her head to get them off. Then she would move on and repeat the process over and over again.
We followed her all along the shore, breathless with excitement as we quietly dipped our paddles into the water and watched her hunt her tiny prey.
Once, my phone dinged as I started to take a video of her, and she looked toward us. Just for a moment. Then she was back to her ants. I wondered how many ants she would have to eat to be satisfied. It was like me eating crumbs all day long. It would take a lot of crumbs for me to be happy. I wouldn’t have much interest in anything else either if the only thing I had to eat was crumbs.
We also wondered how she and her cub got there and if there were any more bears on the island. Did they swim? Had they lived there for generations? Were they just foraging for the day? I liked the thought of them swimming together each morning to their secret feasting spot. Maybe they named the place Ant Island?
Eventually, we reluctantly said goodbye to the bear. Or bears, I should say. For the rest of the day we argued over what we would name the island and the bears. I actually don’t remember what we decided to name the island because we just keep referring to it as “Bear Island.” But most of us agreed that the mama and her teen-cub should be collectively known as the Don’t-Care Bears.
Are you a “Don’t-Care Bear?” Maybe you are furry or smelly or maybe you even like to eat bugs, but that’s not what I mean. I mean, could you care less about anybody else but yourself and your important tasks?
That’s fine for a bear. But it’s not okay for a Christian. As ambassadors representing the character of Christ we must care. As parts of the body of Christ we must care.
Maybe you are busy providing for your family. Maybe you are consumed with the necessary tasks of motherhood. Maybe you are serving in the church as a pastor, a teacher, a janitor, or a musician. All of these are wonderful things. But we must be able to look up from these “ants” to things that are more important. We must look up and out of our busy lives and see our spouses. Our children. Our neighbors. The people we pass in town. The people we pass in the hallway at church or who sit in the pew behind us. We must look into their eyes and know them and take the time to notice, to smile, and to talk. Your spouse, your child, your neighbor, your friend, the strangers in your life – one of these may need you today and it may matter for all eternity.
So go ahead and gather ants. But don’t be a Don’t-Care Bear!
Click here to learn more about bears!
