I’m remembering that one time, in my little cabin in Kake, when I heard something on the porch. I looked out the window and found myself nose to nose with a fellow mammal.

This also makes me think of a time while I was at school. One of the kids, Timmy*, came galloping down the hall, eyes big as saucers. “Mrs. Willburn! There’s a bear on the dumpster!” Sure enough, there was a medium sized bear standing on the dumpster, looking curiously into the nearest classroom. Since school was about to let out, I had no choice but to gather everybody in the commons and summon the VPSO (Village Public Safety Officer) to come and make sure the bear went about its business. Timmy clutched his chest dramatically. “Do you think it can get in? I don’t want to die like this!” Contrast that with James*, an eighth grader. James approached me, rolling his eyes. “Mrs. Willburn,” he said, “I see that bear every day when I walk home. Can I go now?”

*All names have been changed, to protect both the overly anxious and the overly confident.