Here is a story I have posted elsewhere before. I've often wondered how the outcome might have been different if I was carrying at the time.
Now my bear story: ;D
I was walking through a pine forest on an old, moss covered skid trail. Moss coverings make for very quiet walking. I was contemplating how to lay out new skid trails and access the stand for a planned timber harvest. It was mid summer, or so and I was totally engrossed in what I was doing. So much that I blundered right in to a real bad situation.
I heard a noise and turned my head to see what it was. First thing I saw was a bear cub scurrying up a tree. Next, another cub stood on it's hind legs, sniffed the air in my direction, and proceeded to start walking toward me at a brisk pace. Not quite a run. Much as I would have liked to pet that little guy, I new this was bad. Without looking around, I raised my arms over my head, waiving them frantically and yelled at that cub. It skidded to a halt about 20 feet from me and found another tree worthy of his best impression of his sibling.
It was at this very moment I heard a noise to my right. Wanna guess what that was?
Yep. Mama bear and she was none too pleased. She was about 50 feet away or so and started running toward me. I immediately (I panicked) turned to run. Two steps in to my flight the voice in my head said "Don't run!" So as I turned around, I was greeted with the sight of that bear 10 feet from me. When I turned, she also stopped. She backed off a bit but was stomping the ground with her paws, in a very stiff like manner. She was also showing me what great teeth she had, snapping her jaw at me.
She did several of these "false" charges at me, all the while I was yelling and screaming and waving my arms around. I wasn't regularly carrying back in those days. Once, I even looked down to see a good sized tree branch on the ground. Thinking I had something I could use as a club, I reached down to grab it, only to have it fall apart in my hands when I raised it up. Rotten.
Well, after some time of this, which was probably only a minute but felt like much more, she finally retreated back to about 50 feet but was still snapping her jaw and stomping the ground. By this time I had stopped yelling and told her, more calmly than I felt, that it was alright and that she could just calm down.
I figured it was safe then to try to get out of there. I backed away from her for a bit, then took a deep breath and turned my back on her, walking briskly away. I looked back over my shoulder after going about 50 feet and she and the cubs were gone. They knew when the getting was good too.
I left the woodlot for another day. Figured it was time to catch up on some paperwork.
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