Bear-ly keeping my cool...

Rotten bears. 

Well, one in particular; a bruin clocking in at, I would estimate, 300 lbs. Nosy, opportunistic, and clearly well-adjusted to human existence. This bear tips trash barrels, and now, rips open storage totes. We have him on camera this time-- and G, at 1:30 this morning, was hollering at him out the door. It's not like there is a lack of forage out there-- tomatoes on the vine, low-hanging pears and apples, for example-- but this doofus of a bear prefers to go rooting about for spoiled things and bags of dog poo, cat litter, and dirty diapers. Gross.

That said, it's unbearable. (And yes, I am proud of that obvious pun.)

Yesterday, he must have been waiting, and cruised through somewhere between 6:15 am when I got the paper off the step and when Meg came out to wheel the barrels to the curb for trash pick up. Broad daylight, mind you. Last night, it was under cover of darkness, but it is unnerving. I got the inkling to close the dining room window last night just before I went to bed, and I'm glad I did. There are cooking smells that linger in my kitchen, and I didn't want an uninvited guest. As it turns out, he was rummaging old totes of empty beehive frames right under that window. No honey to be found, but he decided to investigate anyhow. We aren't dumb, we don't leave food/honey out. 

People will say we should lock up our trash bins. But that's not possible: we don't have a shed or garage, and we're not about to build one. Meg doesn't have one either. The Bear Protectors that work for the state will tell you that it's all your own fault if you have evidence of human habitation around, and will offer up a pamphlet on how to live with bears. It's frustrating. 

So far, the bear has not found the bee hives out back, and I sincerely hope he doesn't. There is not one dang thing we can do about it if he wrecks them; they are caged, but G didn't electrify the area this year due to his injury. One more dang thing that had to be put aside, and here we are. I'm frustrated, but there's not a lot I can do except hope the critter deterring lights and ultrasonic thingies work. This particular critter has a tag in his ear, so the state has record of him, is supposedly tracking him I guess-- well, it'd be nice if they would come and get him, but we are told that relocation does not work. I expect to see the fat interloper in my pool, or sitting on Holly's swing set. He's clearly pleased with himself.

I guess we'll just have to hope it's not going to be one more thing we have to deal with.

C