When I was in Montana working for the USFS (US Forest Service), I had two exciting (read: terrifying) experiences with bears.  The first one occurred innocently (no stupidity on my part for this encounter) on top of a mountain that had a fire lookout tower.  We had almost completed a survey for a future road to the top, and were taking a lunch break near the tower. I had my camera with me that day, and went over to the east side below the tower to take a picture of the sawtooth pattern of Glacier National Park some 100 miles in the distance.  While kneeling down on one knee and steadying my camera for a picture, I heard a commotion behind me as though the other two college age members of the survey crew were racing each other towards me. I stood up and turned around to greet them and see what they were up to, and instead started to welcome a big black bear running fast directly at me.  It had glossy black hair, red gums, white teeth and weighed about 450 pounds.  I knew I was in big trouble unless I did something fast. Should I run? NO!  That bear would be on my back in seconds.  Should I throw a rock?  No way. Way too late to reach down for a rock.  (Somewhere in these observations I thought "Wow, this is going to be in the headlines of my hometown newspaper. "Minco boy gets attacked by bear in Montana".)  Throw the camera? NO!  Scream and yell and jump and wave my arms? YES!!

       But first, let me tell you what influenced what I yelled. Two weeks earlier we had played a parlor game called "Thar’s a bar!".  It’s a game where everyone lines up standing shoulder to shoulder, and the first person says "Thar’s a bar".  The next says, "Whar".  The first says "Thar" and points with his right arm straight out. This question and answer series continues down the line until everyone has their right arm pointing straight forward. Then the first person again says, "Thar’s a bar".  Again the second person says "Whar", and the first points with his other arm straight out.  Again the question continues down the line until all have both arms straight out.  Then, again, the first person says "Thar’s a bar", and this time gets down on one knee to point at the "bar", and the process is repeated until everyone is on one knee, both arms out, and all shoulder to shoulder.  Then the first one again says "Thar’s a bar" and the second says "Whar?"  But this time the first person yells "THAR!" and shoves into the line with his shoulder and all go sprawling over the floor.  And now … back to the charging bear.

      The bear is charging at full speed and closing fast. I started jumping up and down, waving my arms, and screaming at the top of my lungs the phrase, yes, you guessed it: "THAR’S A BAR WHAR THAR – THARS A BAR WHAR THAR – THARS A BAR WHAR THAR … (etc, etc)".  That did the trick.  The bear suddenly screeched to a stop with rump down, sending rocks flying by, stopping at about 4 feet in front of me.  Then he stood straight up and towered over me.  My "THAR’S A BAR" yelling got softer as he got taller.  Then he got the funniest look on his face, as if to think, "Huh? Thar’s a bar whar thar? This guy is NUTS!"  Then he pivoted his paws around to his left, still looking at me like I’m a wierdo, settled down on all fours and started loping off, looking at me periodically.  I stood there watching him lope off over the rocks between me and the tower. Then, I thought, "I didn’t get his picture!! I DIDN’T GET A PICTURE OF THE BEAR THAT CHARGED ME!!! I GOTTA GET HIS PICTURE!!! HE’S GETTING AWAY!!!  So, I took off after the bear.  I’m gaining a little, but then the bear looked back and saw me.  He looked puzzled, as if to think "Is that nut actually chasing me?!!"  He looked forward, and then looked back again. "Yeah! The nut really is chasing me!!"  Then he really took off fast.  Seeing him accelerate, I did too, and we raced over the mountain.  I quickly became winded and gave up the chase, with the bear still racing and looking behind him to ensure he was rid of the wierdo.

        I’m gasping for air and returning to my starting point as the lookout runs down holding a rifle in the air and leaping from rock to rock.  He comes right up to me and says

        "What happened?" I try to explain between gasps of air and he interrupts with "I almost shot you".

        "Huh?"

        "I almost shot you".

         "HUH?" I wondered what rule I broke that deserved getting shot. 

        "I almost shot you".

       "ALMOST SHOT ME?!   WHY?!"

       He explained that he heard yelling, and he ran over and saw the bear was at full charge and almost on top of me and knew I was already good as dead, but he was going to try to stop him.  He ran over and grabbed his loaded rifle and in the excitement simply set the crosshairs on whatever was chasing who, which of course should have been the bear.  He had me in the crosshairs and was squeezing off the trigger when he suddenly realized I was chasing the bear, and not the other way around.  As he told me this he looked visibly shaken.

     And after all this, the camera wasn’t taking up film, and I never got any pictures at all on top of that lookout mountain.

       So, one pitch black dark night, I was washing my clothes in the open sided laundry near the dining hall. There was an old wringer style washing machine with thee wash tubs, covered by a small roof with four posts. A bare light bulb hung over the machine. The bare bulb was the only light in the whole area as I washed. Around the area were tall pines, and the barracks was about 200 dark feet away. As the washing machine churned away, it occurred to me that I had another dirty pair of socks back in the barracks I could include in this wash. So, I started walking into the darkness toward the barracks, and a huge bear stood up right in front of me. 

        Our faces are no more than three feet apart.  Instantly, we both panicked and ran.  He hid behind a big pine tree and peeked around it at me, and I hid behind the washing machine and peeked at him.

      After a while, the bear came out from behind the tree and ambled over to a bucket, looked at me, and then stuck his head in the bucket. He was eating the food scraps left by the cook.  I realized then I had almost tripped over that bucket and fallen on top of the bear eating, had he not pulled his head out and discovered me.   I kept watching the bear and eventually I thought, "That bear is scared of me.  I bet I could touch that bear and get away with it.  I could tell the people back home that I had actually touched a wild bear. That would be something.  The only problem is getting close enough to touch him before he runs away again."  The bear raised up for a moment and stuck his head back in the bucket.  "Now’s my chance."  I edged around the machine and slowly edged up to the bear.  I began to reach toward the bear … almost touching the bear, and then he pulled his head out the bucket.  Immediately he stepped to one side of the bucket and lunged at me with mouth wide open and head rotated to one side to clamp on me somewhere.  I don’t know how I moved so fast, but in a flash I was behind the washing machine.  I stood there, ready to start racing around the wash tubs if he continued after me, but he stood there glaring at me, giving me a look that said, "Don’t try that again, buster, or you’re dead".  I believed him, and in my mind I said "Yessir Mr. Bear!"  Then he backed up behind his bucket, gave one last look of warning, and put his head back in the bucket.  I stayed very respectfully behind my chugging washing machine until he left.  Then I went to the barracks and got my dirty socks to put in the wash.

      I didn’t try to pet or chase any more wild bears for the rest of the summer.