Bears

Cold, clear December evening. I yearn to hibernate. Maybe that’s why tonight, I’m thinking about bears.

All my life, I’ve been surrounded by bears. Teddy bears for sure. Though as a child, my favorite stuffed companion was a floppy-eared dog named Poochie. 

Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear, but he wasn’t fuzzy, was he? My dad used to recite this to me when I was a young cub. 

Then there was the bear who went over the mountain. Just what did he see? “To see what he could see” is a phrase we use in our family often when we’re embarking on a journey. Why are we going to the park? The market? The fair? To see what we can see. True confession, for many years, I thought Fuzzy Wuzzy and the bear who went over the mountain were the same. Maybe they are. 

Another bear mantra from my life comes courtesy of my brother. When I stayed with him, he’d wake me, usually at an uncivilized hour, saying, “Time to get the bear, Mikey.” Some days I did, and some days the bear got me. 

I’m enthralled by bears in stories and poems, especially the mystic, magical bears Jim Harrison writes about. Here’s a bear poem from a collaboration by Harrision and Ted Kooser. 

I’m saddened by the bears I see in zoos and delighted by the bears I’ve seen in the wild, on hikes in the Great Smoky Mountains. I’ve never come as close to a bear as photographer Paul Nicklen. His bear photos are worth a look. 

Recently, my friend Dave shared a video from his backyard of bears dancing in the snow. It’s delightful. Since I can’t hibernate all winter, I’ll try to channel the energy and joy of these dancing bears, and I’ll see what I can see. 

More bear reading:

• Brown bear poems from The Sun Magazine. 

• Bears at Raspberry Time by Hayden Carruth (Poetry Magazine)

• Furry Bear by A.A. Milne (Poets(dot)org)

A bear I met one time in Tennessee (Mike Barzacchini photo)