The morning promises sunshine sparkling on the lake. Yellow, orange, brown crags stand tall like soldiers on parade. The breeze is tender, just rustling the pine trees. Our children each have a swing made from worn out tires hanging from two brotherly old oaks that must have grown up together. From the kitchen window I often check on them so they never jump from the rocks. That is too dangerous. Their laughter and shrieks of excitement give me chills of joy.
The man of the house, Barry, is on the roof replacing a few cracked tiles. I can hear his footsteps swirling the fallen leaves. Our little nest is heaven until I hear him yelling, ‘Kids, quick, run get in the house. Now! Now!’ They are too far away and can’t hear him. I hurry out to see what the trouble is and Barry is coming down the ladder as fast as he can, motioning me to get inside. I won’t go and wait for him to get on the ground to tell me what is going on. He just keeps hollering, ‘Get in the house!’ as he flies to the lake.
And then I know. I hear a low groaning growl but can’t yet see what it is and know I don’t want to. Fred is at the edge of the lake and waving to Casey to come back but she is already half way across to see her girlfriend. Barry pulls our son by his bathing suit, lifts him in the air and runs. I am right on his tail. The growl grumbles again. A grizzly. It’s smell reaches my nose before I see it. We all make it inside. With its big ball of a black nose it sniffs the ground and knocks over the barbecue. It crashes on the flagstone path, startles the bear. A thundering roar fills the air. We three cling together, hardly breathing. I send out silent vibes, ‘Casey, Casey. Don’t come home. Stay across the lake until I call the Borgas.’
The bear hasn’t left. It brushes against the ladder, knocks it down. It falls and shatters, pieces hit the bear. It roars and roars. There is no food left outside, no garbage cans to break open. The monster goes slowly back to the woods.
Barry gets his Winchester rifle from the locked cabinet in our bedroom and a box of 20 XM193 cartridges, loads the gun, opens the door, looks around and heads for the lake. The sun is high, glistens on the mirrored lake. Large strides, rifle ready, he shades his eyes, searching for Casey. She is not in sight. He fires two shots into the air, unties the motor boat from its post and heads eastward. It takes ten minutes to get across. Casey, not quite dry yet, is waiting for him. ‘Get in the boat. Don’t ask questions now. Just get in.’ Once they get the power going, Barry tells her about the company they had while she was gone. ‘That grizzly only did a little damage. It could have been much worse. If you children were outside, no telling what might have happened. Mom must have already called the Game Warden. He and his crew are going to find that bear and get him back to his own territory. Until they do, no lake, no wandering around outside the house. Them’s orders. Got it?”
The first thing he does when he gets into the safety of their house, he removes the cartridges from the rifle, lays it on the table near the door. All of the remaining 17 cartridges he drops into a tin bucket, puts them on the floor near the rifle. He is stern and warns them, ‘Don’t touch. Just don’t touch. I may need this suddenly and it better be where it is now! Mother, let’s have a little supper, watch some T.V. and the kids can go to bed a little early. Don’t anybody worry. I’ll be here all night with one eye open. God watched over us all day and it is my turn now.’
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