Where I Was When I Smelled a Bear – Photo: L. Weikel

I Smelled a Bear

I had an experience today that I can most assuredly state I was not expecting.

There’ve been a few conversations lately that I’ve witnessed (not participated in, as I did not have a frame of reference) that had to do with being in the vicinity of a bear, but not actually seeing it. Or not seeing it until after its presence was revealed by activation of a sense other than one’s eyes: the olfactory sense.

Scent of a Bear

At least a couple of times over the past week, I’ve either read about or people have mentioned the unmistakable stench of bears. I’d never heard this before, and did not know that our sense of smell could actually serve as an early warning system in this regard.

While I found the stories of my friends interesting, and found it mildly surprising that this fact showed up in something I read at a museum a few days ago, I nevertheless did not pay much attention to even the remote possibility that it would have any relevance to my life. Why? Because my sense of smell is not acute. It used to be. A long time ago. But for a good 20 years or so, my sense of smell has been abysmal.

And while it has improved somewhat over the past two years or so, it’s still probably the weakest of my five traditional senses. Consequently, the thought of sensing the presence of a bear via my nose was not even a consideration.

A Being I’ve acknowledged many times – Photo: L. Weikel

Sitting With the Beings

And so it was late this afternoon, after having participated in a concerted effort to establish communication with the Beings of the Land and then walking into the forest to just sit with the life that teems in this place, I found myself braced by a scent I’d never encountered before. Honestly, it was the last thing I expected.

As I picked my way carefully along a path, all of a sudden, I encountered a thickish waft of stink. It was not the scent of a skunk. I’ve experienced that up close and personal a couple of times (thank you, Sheila and Spartacus). It was not the scent of a septic system. (Nor was there one anywhere near me at the time.)

But it was a smell of stink. Sort of fecal-related, perhaps, but not human. Sharp. Pungent. Distinct.

Heads Up!

And then it hit me: I’d better heighten my senses. A bear was near, or perhaps had been walking in my vicinity recently.

Either way, I’m as sure of that as I’m sure I have my fingers on a keyboard. The scent was unmistakable and almost indescribable (as witness my meager attempts in this post).

While I did not see it; I’m sure it was there.

Either that, or…?

(T-834)