The Thump

Today, at approximately 1:50 pm, we were upstairs and heard a loud THUMP.
It was the thump I've been waiting to hear for days now. A thump I knew was inevitable, and one that the very thought of sent waves of terror and excitement coursing through my bones. I've heard a number of false thumps, more like clinks and bangs, and I'd still go to the closest north-facing window and peer out.

The thump, you see, is the sound of a Black Bear attacking our garbage can under the carport. Inside the can was the carcass of the 14.5lb Halibut we filleted last week and, not thinking it through completely, put in a garbage bag and threw in the can outside. After missing garbage pickup on Tuesday, the fish skeleton had been festering and rotting, acquiring a small fanclub of flies who lingered around the can, hoping for a taste every time we opened the lid to throw another bag inside. The can itself is "bearproof" and on loan from Arrow Refuse, the waste management company here in Juneau. The only thing that really makes it bearproof is a set of metal latches that we have to unhook every time we need to throw something inside. Otherwise, it's just a run of the mill garbage can. After seeing the flies a few days ago and hearing about a bear dragging our neighbor's can halfway into the woods earlier this week, I knew that ours was next. Our neighbor's can isn't bearproof, and it looks like they moved it into their apartment, so ours sat alone in the carport in front of the parked Subaru, waiting for the bears with it's fly fanclub and putrid odor.

But today, I heard the real thing. I shot to the window and peered outside, as I had done so many times before. There, one story below, was a Black Bear cub. After a few moments, a second cub appeared. My heart was in my throat, about to pound out of my body. My breathing was erratic and it's a miracle that I didn't pass out. Although I was safe and sound high above the bears, who had no clue that they were even being watched, I was absolutely terrified. But, as many of you reading this know, my biggest fear in moving to Alaska was the close proximity to bears. I knew I'd see one, I even assumed I'd see one in my yard eventually. So, my reaction was one that I pretty much expected. I managed to calm myself down a little as we watched the cubs looking down to the carport anxiously, waiting for their mom, who was trying to get them a mid-afternoon snack. I snapped some shots with my iphone. They were actually kind of cute. One sat back on his hind legs, one plopped down on the concrete pathway leading to the carport. The mother bear and our garbage can were unfortunately out of view, but we continued to hear loud thumps, and the cubs continued to watch anxiously. Soon enough, the bearproof can made it's point and the big black bear, defeated, sauntered up the steps. She was big, but didn't seem too huge and scary from the bird's eye view I had. I'm sure if I was in the kitchen looking out from the same window I saw her peek into, it would have been a different story. Regardless, it was really a neat experience to watch the family completely at ease and without any aggression. I needed that, because it allowed me to see them in a light that doesn't portray them as man-eating beasts. Just a momma trying to feed her kids. They wandered behind the house next door and into the woods again, the cubs following their mom close behind.









I'm sure we will see them again, so we've named them. Doris and her two children, Roland and Bridget.

We went downstair to survey the damage after they left, hoping the windshield of the car was still intact because State Farm doesn't cover bear damage (which it should because this is Alaska..). There were a few muddy prints on the hood, but the bulk of the damage was to the poor garbage can. A series of deep scratches scarred the top of the can. The lip, made of thick plastic, had been torn through. The side of the lid was also gnawed, a spot of bear drool still visible.





We decided to lessen the chance of another visit before Tuesday by loading the stinking garbage into the car and getting rid of it ourselves. With the windows rolled down, gagging, we drove to the dump and threw the garbage.

Live and learn.

...hopefully we won't be taking the trash out when Doris comes back for can attack #2.