We went to the local zoo a few months back, walked the zoo’s pathways, checking out the animals. After negotiating the many twist and turns and keeping a wide berth from red-bottom monkeys that occasionally throw nasty stuff at visitors, we eventually arrived at the bear exhibit. It was there that I recalled the time the twins and I went camping in the desert. This was long before agricultural fields changed the desert landscape.
So … Mama was an active member of the church’s Women’s Missionary Society. The ladies met on a particular weekday to quilt. I’m thinking it was either a Tuesday or Thursday since Wednesday was Prayer Meeting night at the church. The quilts were sent to a church association back east where they were sold and money donated to various missions. Dad called the weekly gathering the “hen party.” Gossip was the main course at the quilting parties but the women did quilt and they were pretty darn good at it. This one time, Mama returned home and told us word was going around that so-and-so had seen a sun bear in the desert, in the vicinity of our farm, and cautioned her that we should be careful as they could be very aggressive. Scared the living heck out of us kids, but Mama seemed calm about the whole thing. Did she know something? We took to walking the farm with big sticks in our hands, as if that could stop a bear from ridding the reservation of our skinny asses. I carried a chipped yellow broomstick which I had been using as a baton to practice the art of twirling. Of course, we never considered that just maybe it was too dang hot for any bear to be roaming the desert this time of the year. Spring was nearly over, the cool air had long been replaced with hot desert heat. Another thing that didn’t cross our minds was the question of bears even coming into our area. Was that even a possibility? Probably not. Were sun bears even native to America? No, as we later found out. So whoever started the whopper just made the whole thing up. Eh, probably one of our relatives desperate for attention.
A few weeks went by. We didn’t forget the possibility of encountering a sun bear, but in spite of our concerns, we decided to go camping. We’d be okay, after all, my brother was taking the .22 and a hatchet, his twin had armed herself with a hammer, and I had my lame broomstick. We were ready for anything!
We hiked a good distance on a familiar trail but not so far that we could not see the rooftop of the house if we climbed a tree. We found a big spreading mesquite and decided to set up camp underneath it. First on our agenda was to make a fire pit right under the tree. Yeah, we ignored the fact that a dry mesquite with low hanging branches could easily catch fire and cause a wildfire. Never once thought of that possibility until years later when we were reminiscing about that adventure. My brother was the leader, he always was when it came to our little escapades. He sent my sister and I out to gather firewood, reminding us to watch out for scorpions and snakes. As we gathered up wood, we decided it would be real funny to scare the heck out of him. So, with our arms loaded with mesquite wood, we ran back to the campsite, screaming loudly, “Sun bear! Sun bear! We saw the bear!” What did my brother do? He scrambled up the tree, rifle firmly gripped in his hand. Our great protector had failed us to save himself. But we weren’t angry. We thought it was hilarious … until we gave it some thought and realized he had been willing to sacrifice us. We grew indignant after that and started giving him a hard time about being a traitor and a big chicken.
Considering the real possibility (which wasn’t real at all) of a bear catching a whiff of our campfire and coming to investigate, we three decided to sleep up in the branches. Yeah, we kind of forgot that some bear can climb trees way better than humans. Anyway, we searched the desert for large branches that had fallen to the ground and carried what we had found back to the campsite. Using the hatchet, our brother hacked off a few more long branches and added them to the pile. After hauling the branches up the tree and arranging the wood to make something resembling a platform, we settled in for the night. Sleep was not possible. Our platform was not stable and wobbled at the slightest movement and sharp points tortured us. But in spite of the discomfort, fear kept us up there for the night, wide awake and on the alert. This actually turned out to be a smart move because two rattlers slithered into our camp to warm up by our fire. They appeared a few hours apart, both stayed for a short time, before disappearing back into the dark.
We made it through the night and at the crack of dawn, ate our Spam-tortilla breakfast. After making sure our fire was totally out, we began a weary trek home. Dad was already out in the field, irrigating, and Mama was washing dishes when we walked in. When she smelled the smoke on us and saw the dirt and soot on our faces, she told us to go swimming to wash off. We did.
I never did see a sun bear in our desert while growing up, or any other species of bear, but I did gain another great memory. I still like Spam, by the way, and I never did get the hang of twirling a baton. Just wasn’t my thing, I guess.
***Photo is not mine and just so you know that I know, it is of a brown bear.
