"The leaves all colored, now blew everywhere on the fall wind. The bear looked up at the fleeting sun as it slid from cloud to cloud. He sat against the big red pine, and looked down at his big black stomach; wondering if it was really big enough yet, for the long winter. Bear moved his back slowly, rubbing a persistent itch against the coarse bark. Looking up and west he could see the white snow on the slopes, creeping down just under the cloud line. A shiver ran thru his mind, and up he went in search of frost flavored berries, and anything else that might add an extra inch or so to his girth.

As he wandered the slopes and gullies, he dream-walked thru the past sunny season, and smiled out loud as he put himself into a downward angling shoulder roll, landing as planned in a low thicket of chokecherries. With no respect for the smooth gray-brown stems he pulled them down and into his grinning maw -- stripping berries left and right, not really caring if he ate most or watched them roll deeper into the undergrowth; thinking he would get them next year or the next. Everything was his! He had an air about him this day. He really didn't care. His stomach was very big, and that's a fact. Go ahead, let the ice wind blow, he thought to himself. They would all see his flowing black hair shining in the moon, as he ran the high ridges in their sleep.

The next day a strong north wind did come, and filled the canyon with a biting frost. That night Bear entered his den, the same one he had used for the last five sleeps. It was without a doubt the best one he had had in his eighteen winter sleeps.

He knew very well that the two-leggeds lived less than a good days run from this place. They had left him alone, and only rarely would they even enter this rugged canyon. On the occasions when they did show up, Grandmother Moon was almost full, and the two-leggeds would stay for three sleeps. Each night they kept a good fire and a very old one would speak to them. Sometimes though, he only spoke to the four directions and to Mother Earth.

Bear was very interested in all of this; that is for sure. One night in his first year of staying in this canyon, he walked right straight down the slope, thru the cedar grove along the creek, and into the fire circle where he promptly stood up. Never was there such a night! Never did he expect that they would react such! He never tried such a direct approach again. However, the next time, Bear found it very easy to visit with the old one, and a few of the others in their dreamtime.

Bear was deep into his winter sleep when he dreamt of falling off a low waterfall, and never landing in the pool below. Great wings carried him to a glistening red obsidian quarry, where he stood on two legs. Crouching below the cliff face he made a razor flake the length of his forearm that he put into a pouch at his side. This felt right, but it was very queer -- as no bear that he ever was told about did such a thing. What could be the use of a sharp flake to a bear about to go to sleep?

Well into the winter, in the month of the popping trees, many footfalls could be heard coming across the crisp snow. Bear, deep in the dreamtime, shuffled restlessly around in his snug den under the snaking roots of a downed spruce tree -- whose scaly bark had come off already many seasons passed. The steps came on and on, and now strange voices could be heard in muffled tones. He knew his dream was fading quickly when a voice called his name. Bear wished he had a torch, as he saw many times the two-leggeds using in the dark. In that instant of his lunging head breaking thru the snow door, he remembered the great flake at his side. With both front paws he threw it ahead of him, cleanly striking the lead warrior in the chest. Everything stopped instantly as time flew to other realms, and the people, all in shock, stood transfixed, waiting ... it seemed for him to speak.

Bear roared still standing tall on hind legs, his front legs swinging thru the sky -- in rage above the people, trying to rent the scene to shreds. This lasted only a few moments. He dropped to all fours and walked directly to the dying one. He took the flake from the bleeding chest, licked the length of the wound just once, and everyone could see it healing before their eyes.

Bear, turned to face The People and stood to see over their heads. Coming up the path thru the woods was an old man leading yet an older woman. The hunters, all men from the Otter Clan could not believe a woman was intruding into this scene, this age-old confrontation between man and bear.

Tiak, the old shaman, tried to smile at Bear. He turned his head slightly toward Tamiq, the ancient widow of Kunaluk, and spoke in the secret tongue to her, 'natak te mish ka pit hw'e. (This is the one that I have met and journeyed with.)' Tamiq, without fear, took one step closer to Bear. Bear, towering over her, thought she was so bent over and small like a little cub. She proceeded to speak at length without voice to this great Bear. For whatever he was before, now he was a great Bear with his flake back in his pouch. She told him of the hard winter and their sorrow for disturbing him, but that they were very hungry and even colder. Bear was breathing easier now and thought things over very carefully. He told them to come back in the morning; he would see what he could do. At that Bear disappeared into his den.

The two-legged ones were back at the fallen spruce tree very early. The sun had not yet begun to break thru the night cold. With each breath the ice fogged around their heads. They were confused to see a different bear. But no, Tamiq said, it was the same; now he was much thinner though, and his fur looked very poor and patchy. The People stood in the deep snow, not knowing what to think or do.

All around Bear were huge bundles of steaming bear meat wrapped in blanket size sections of prime bear hide. These he offered to The People.

Bear said, 'From now on, if bears go into the den with huge bellies, the two-leggeds will be fed and kept warm. But you must remember to speak respectfully of bears and leave offerings along the trail, as bears also are always hungry.'

Bear went back to sleep and each winter in the month of the popping trees, the old people tell this story and lead prayers to Bear."

copyright Little Bear, October 4, 1997