Bears and Other Wild Animals

Finnley didn’t want to go to school that morning. He complained of a stomach ache and whined and winced in bed and Nancy took the bait. She always did.

The truth is, she secretly liked Finnley staying home because she was lonely in those woods. After Robert died in a work accident it was just the two of them in that cabin down Range Road 271, tucked away in the fresh pines and cedars. When bears or wolves came sniffing around, she would grab the rifle off the wall and load it with flares. She didn’t have the heart for bullets. One or two shots into the air were usually all it took to scare them off.

It was 9:45 AM and Finnley emerged from his room. His hair was cowlicked on the side from the pillow and he was wearing his pyjamas with little cowboys and horses all over it. “Are you feelin' better already Finn?” Nancy cooed, with an arched brow.

Finnley feigned a slow walk and whined, “A lil’ bit.”

Watching a six-year-old fake sickness was amusing to Nancy and she smiled to herself. “Well, go'n put some clothes on and git out in the garden then, mama needs your help.”

Nancy pulled weeds from between the row of carrots and beets. Hearing Finnley make construction sounds while playing with his Tonka truck in the dirt gave her a sense of peace she didn’t feel too often. While the woods were her home, they also became ominous at times. They made her feel small like a creature of prey, rather than a predator.

Nancy cradled the pile of weeds she pulled and took them to the compost bin around the corner of the house, leaving Finnley to play. What a miracle. Nature decaying what was once alive and turnin’ it into food for somethin' new. It’s like alchemists turnin’ lead to gold, she thought. Nature was a creative force, a god, no – a goddess, a mother that could bear both pain and wonder.

Nancy looked at her wristwatch. 11:43 AM. She would soon usher Finn in for some sliced cheddar and tomatoes off the vine with dinner rolls from the night before. She pulled off her gardening gloves and tucked them in her back pocket while heading back towards the yard.

A sound like a tortured whinny breaks the silence of the late morning and branches crackle and echo from the forest walls. Nancy froze next to the shingling of the cabin, holding her breath, listening. She wasn’t expecting this. Not now anyway. And fear possessed her stronger than any other instinct that might have overtaken her in that moment.

An unmistakable throaty bellow of a mother bear called for her neighing cub. Nancy felt her throat close and her mouth get dry. All she could do was look toward the noise.

“Go away bears!” Finnley’s child-pitched voice called out. He stood up from his play area and mocked holding a rifle, “I gotta gun! You better git.”

“I’ve gotta git the gun,” Nancy breaks from her fear and like a shot, her body administers the adrenaline she needs to run to the front porch and slam the wooden screen door open, letting it hit the outside siding. Her shoes clonked around the hardwood, leaving traces of dirt in the hallway to her room, where the rifle hung on the wall. Nancy fumbled to pick it up, nearly dropping it, then raced back out of the house towards the backyard where Finnley and the bears were.

She wished she had told Finn to run inside, but everyone knows running from a black bear could mean death.

Mama bear was on her hind legs, her cub shielded behind her when Nancy reached the back garden. Finnley hollered once again, “Go on git!” and clapped his little hands.

“Finn, git down!” Nancy cried pointing the shotgun toward the top of the tree line. Her aim wavered as her heartbeat shook her core and the weight of the gun weakened her arms. Nancy pulls the trigger.

//

“Finnley won’t be coming to school anymore,” Nancy is on the phone with the school administration. “Yes, that’s right.” She looks blankly out the window to the backyard, re-living yesterday’s events through the pane of glass.

“Okay, thank you, giddbye.” She hangs up the phone and notices a single gardening glove in the grass where she stood yesterday with the rifle. In silence, Nancy stares at it for a while.

Nancy turns around and leans against the log wall and folds her arms under her bosom, “Alright mister Finnley, you riddy t'learn to shoot a gun?"