Honor the US Flag

Yes, here I am again with more stories about New Mexico. This one involves the US Flag.

Before the ‘escapees’ arrived, we had a staff meeting to discuss some of the roles each of us would play along side our duties as shooting instructors. One of the ladies (Beth) asked if any of us were or had been boy or girl scouts. Along with a few others, I raised my hand. Since I was closest to her, Beth selected me and told me I would be responsible for the flag raising ceremoney each morning and that I should marshall the tribes to assist me in whatever method I chose to honor the flag.

And into my care was delivered a flag, directions to the flag pole, the time of the ceremony each day and carte blanche. (Sorry if I spelled it wrong). It was up to me to decide the ceremony. Well. I can do this, I’ve watched and assisted in various flag ceremonies almost weekly for the past half dozen years and while I was younger.

That evening, after we met the ‘escapees’ [my nickname for the participants of the Women's Wilderness Escape], I chose my first tribe of women, the Hopi’s. Each tribe consisted of 10 women from all walks of life and ranging all through the age spectrum. I explained to the 10 women briefly what we would be doing in the morning, the time and place to meet.

Each of the five days (one for each tribe), we spent about 10 minutes in the morning planning our flag ceremony, then proceeded to perform the honors. Generally, the ceremony consisted of a stately march to the flag, a formation around the pole, raising of the flag, a song and a moment of silence in lieu of a formal prayer. (Yes, we were attempting to be politically correct). On the second morning, the women included a guitar to accompany the singing. On the third, the day’s ceremonial tribe elected to write their own stanza into a song that was funny and included the mention of guns and the second amendment rights we all enjoy. On the fourth day, I suggested instead of singing that a lady named Erin [aka Tall Drink of Water] read instead the words to Lee Greenwood’s song ‘God Bless the USA’. This was especially well received and profound.

Here is what bothers me. Most, not all, but most of the women there - even though they knew the words to the Pledge of Allegiance and SOME of the songs (like God Bless America), did not know a thing about the purpose of the ceremony, how to hang and raise the flag - nothing. Some didn’t want the moment of silence, not even knowing what it was for. Some did not understand why hats are removed - a lively discussion ensued more than once over that with women saying ‘they’ as women didn’t need to remove their hats but the men did. Others thought it was stupid to remind anyone to salute the flag or remove their hats. Some asked if they could skip the ceremony. And on, and on. Oh, My, God. What is it with these people? Hopefully, I explained it well enough to all so that they left with a little more honor for our flag and understanding the purpose of the ceremony.

On the evening of the last day of shooting, we were treated to a rousing speech by Gentleman Bert as to why and how we honor the flag. He was in tears as he explained what the flag meant to him and should mean to us. He challenged us to celebrate our freedom and honor her, Old Glory, as the symbol of that freedom. Earlier that day, I had run out of tribes and had asked Bert if he and some of the staff would honor us with the final Flag ceremony before everyone headed out to the woods for a couple days of wilderness camping, survival training and Cowboy Action Shooting. After Bert’s rousing speech, I don’t think anybody wanted to miss the action the next morning.

That evening, Bert rounded up 5 of us to plan the next day’s ceremony. We would dress in uniform, precision march, shoot off black powder guns, pledge, sing and pray. And indeed, it was a great ceremony full of emotion, honor and praise for God, Country and Old Glory. I carried the flag surrounded by a gun toting armed guard with Bert as drill Sargeant. We marched, we saluted, we briskly raised the flag. Then the gun call was given. Although the guns were only loaded with patches (a few extra in fact) and powder, the guns sounding over my head and the billowing smoke with powder and debris raining on my head made me cringe just a mite. Karen, our wonderful Indian goddess (in my eyes), accompanied the ceremony with ASL hand signs. We gave that old girl (the flag) as much honor, pomp and circumstance as we could and I was proud to be a part of it.

One of the questions raised in Bert’s passioned plea the evening before was, “What are we teaching our children?” How can the generations to come learn to share their heritage and honor our flag, our very foundation of the nation, if we ourselves don’t even know how to honor it ourselves? He gave them this challenge: To learn about the flag, to learn about our freedom, to celebrate our rights and TEACH THEM TO OUR CHILDREN. And if you can’t do this, if you don’t like it, if you don’t like our individual religions - that’s tough. (Actually, it was said a little more forcefully, along the lines of ‘you can go to …’)

All I can say is - Bless you Bert. Teach your children well.

My dad, my hero

For the first time in over two months, I got to speak to my dad on the phone yesterday. It was bitter sweet, but very monumental. The last time I spoke with him, he was in a mental hospital and very much out of it as he had been overdosed with tranquilizers and had stopped breathing. He survived, but like I said, last time I talked with him, he was out of it. I told my brothers back in early June that I would be out of town for a couple weeks in July, but they could always call my house or cell phone and leave a message. Since I got back from that trip nearly two weeks ago, I have been calling and emailing my brothers to find out where and how my dad was doing. No replies. Finally, FINALLY, by some fluke, I got an email from one of my cousins asking why I hadn’t told them that my dad was up near them - they saw him in this rehab center and went to visit. Then they emailed me about the visit, telling me all about the place - but not the NAME of it. I found out the next morning when I wrote and told them I didn’t know where dad was and they responded, so I promptly called the Rehab center and spoke to my dad’s nurse.

The care he is getting now seems to be great compared to the last couple of months and dad has made some real progress. The doctors got his medication fixed and even though he was an oversedated, wheel chair bound, violent person when he entered the home, he has turned into an ideal patient and the nurses love him. He walks now again, takes regular meals in the dining room and isn’t confined to his bed or room. He can and does receive visitors and remembers people and has made new friends. With a little time and help, he could, for a short time, even go back to living in the real world as long as he has 24 hour care and is never left alone.

And the most beautiful thing - when I talked to the nurse, she asked if I was the person my dad has been calling for and mistaking others for the past month. He had been missing me and calling for me! Then, after I confirmed my name, the nurse saw dad coming down the hall and brought him to the phone. We spent about 20 minutes, very coherant, on the phone discussing where he was now and his new friends and the home and the nurses. He was all there and for the time being, knew who I was and what is going on with him. Bless the staff in the wing called “The Village” - they have given back some of my dad’s dignity and hope. I know it can’t last, but for now, he’s more at peace within himself than he has been in months - not lost in a drug induced haze and shadowed by demons of dementia. He still, for his own good I hope, is like an animal locked in a cage, but they allow him his pacing and let him control the TV and make choices. And he can see his friends and family whenever they like to visit, not a choice he had earlier in the year.

Now I can rest more easily knowing that there is adequate care for my father and they know how to get in touch with me when he is distressed and wants to see his daughter. Two months - I lost him for TWO MONTHS! Now I can talk to him again once a week as in the past and send mail and visit when I am able to make the 800 mile trip and send his friends to visit. What the Heck is wrong with my brothers that they would cut him off like that? Hope, love and friendship can go a long way to healing a heart and settling a confused mind on an easier path.

Icky frozen food

Just a comment on something I heard yesterday that made my heart feel good. Yesterday, in addition to the broiled fish I was serving for dinner, I decided to whet the boys’ appetites with some heated up frozen cheese sticks. To build up to the comment - the past few weeks have been filled with cooking outside and serving up fresh fruit/veggies from my garden. When I served up the cheese sticks as an appetizer, both husband and son said, “ICK” to the cheese sticks and commented that they would just wait for the steamed veggies from the garden and broiled fish so they could have something that tastes good. The cheese sticks, not bad really, hit the circular file.

Wow! Turning down Breaded, fried cheesesticks for garden veggies. Praise goes to Mother Nature!

Weekend Shooting

One of my favorite Tea Mugs has the saying on it, “Load on Sunday, Shoot All Week Long”. This week was a little backward on the statement as I worked all week long preparing to help teach an Instructor Class, then shoot all Sunday.

First of all, the class was wonderful, at least in an Instructor’s view point. The 20 students (adult males) brought with them an incredible good attitude and enthusiasm to match. They eagerly jumped in with the assignments and shared their knowledge as they learned a variety of teaching methods to help them along the way. Although it is not always the case, we had fun in this class, humor showing it’s grinning facade along with the dawning of shared ideas. How many times was the forbidden “W” word spoken? I lost count after 10, but it appeared over and over again with increasing frequency. By telling everyone there was a forbidden word, and what it was, it began to appear more and more often even if it wasn’t a normal word in one’s vocabulary. I find this highly insightful. Ponder on this: what do Bananas and Diamonds have in common?

We had two days of classroom training in a great facility. Texas Parks and Wildlife had allowed us to use their new Hunter Education Training Room at their new location near Austin airport. This large, comfortable room has many redeeming qualities, including some amazingly comfortable chairs, moveable tables, great temperature control, superb lighting and A/V capabilities. Handily nearby are a break room with refrigerator and microwaves and clean modern toilet facilities. I only hope that I will be able to use this facility more often as a Hunter Education volunteer instructor.

To add to the great facility, the TPWD Game Wardens graciously allowed us to borrow their newly acquired .22 rifles to shoot and train with. These nice little .22 semi-automatic Ruger’s came complete with scopes and hard side cases. I’m sure as Youth shooting sports continue to grow the Game Wardens will do some fantastic things for the community with these guns.

So, it was work all week and shoot all day Sunday. By Sunday, the Texas weather stayed true to it’s recent hot spell and brought out 100+ temperatures and a hot dry wind - just enough to stir up the caliche dirt and sand but not enough to cool anybody. Gamely, the 20 students went through all the steps and half a dozen shooting positions while the gun barrels scorched our hands, sweat dripped down into our eyes and the blazing sun seared our necks as we kneeled, sat, crawled on our bellies and generally discovered that the trials we often put kids (and adults) through in the summer camps is indeed quite difficult and somewhat miserable.

Of course, we worked until every single person qualified, ‘No one is left behind’ and I only wish I had prizes to give out at the very end. The happy grins and camaraderie were very rewarding when each person reached that goal - “I Qualified!”. As a team, the other two Trainers and myself were happy with the results of the class and fully confident that safety and shooting will be passed on to more generations because of our efforts.

For more information about NRA Training programs, go to the website: www.nrahq.org and browse through the various venues available. For more information on Texas Parks and Wildlife - Hunter Education, go to the website: www.tpwd.state.tx.us and select Hunting, then Hunter Education.

Bee nice to the Bees

I don’t often write about my husband, but yesterday’s story is a hoot and I thought I would share the experience. Valiantly, my husband strives to improve our various gardens with soil improvement, polinating tricks, new plants and such. We had been watching a bee try to drink from one of my various Hummingbird feeders when the conversation came up about where maybe these bee may have a hive. I often get stories from him that start with, “When I was a boy, we used to….” This time, it was about how they tracked down bees.

When I was a boy, we used to capture a couple of bees, tie a string to it and watch it fly across the sky to see where it was going.  Yea, right, I sort of chuckled at him - I’d like to see that! So, to prove a point, he went in the house to get a jar, but wasn’t able to capture a bee. I thought nothing more of the conversation.

Later….well, I was gone to the store for our weekly grocery run and when I came in, the dogs were whining to be let in the house, my son was helping to carry in the groceries and my husband, supposedly, was out toodling in the gardens. Seeing that the dogs were whining for me, my husband knew I was home and came into the house all excited. Honey, you have to come see this! (Oh, boy, I’m enthused to see more dirt piles and the latest ‘idea’.)

I walk out the back door and see the bird bath swarming with bees. Apparantly, my husband had been watering and noticed 5-6 bees drinking from the bath. He tried to watch where they were flying to and couldn’t quite follow (older eyes, you know) the erratic path of 1 or 2 bees at a time. So, to improve the situation, he added more water, some sugar and a little red hummingbird food to the mix. Now he had hundreds of bees swarming in for the feast. Come stand here, he says, and watch where they are going. Oooh, ick. But gamely, I stood in the flight path to watch where the bees were going. Now this is scarey to me because most things that fly and go buzz make me back pedal and run because I know they sting.

The experience was indescribable, but I’ll try. I stood there in the middle as hundreds of bees zoomed in for water then flew back across the yard on a path above and between the trees. It was similar to watching a space war flick where they amp up to light speed and the stars seem to zoom by you. I could watch the bees as they flew away and see their trail going beyond our acre and over/around the trees in the neighboring yard. It was like a line was drawn in the sky. The bees did not stop to touch me, just veered slightly away and kept to their paths. It was creepy, but beautiful.

In no time, the water was nearly gone (1/2 inch) and I went back inside to finish sorting through the pantry and putting dry goods away. I told my son to go check it out, but the bee swarm seemed to be getting larger and many flew around the back door, so his trip outside was brief. The dogs - stayed in and wanted nothing to do with going out back. My son opened a window to watch from inside and told us the water was gone. Checking, my husband discovered he was right and went out to refill the bird bath. Then comes the story - when I was a young boy…

So, to prove a point, my husband goes out to catch a bee and brings it in the house. How do you hold it to tie a string to it? Well, you shake the jar a little till the guy is senseless, then pick him up carefully. OK, my husband does this - in the kitchen - and dumps the little bee on the counter. Then lifts the jar and tries to pick it up. BUZZ….zoom. Now the bee is loose in the house and we are trying to follow it. Finally, my husband calls for the fly swatter, and fwap! It’s dead on the floor. Next time, he goes outside and catches two more, but decides he is going to tie them up outside on the patio. Pretty soon, he comes in and tells us ‘these bees are too dumb and too weak’. End of experiment, for now. I wouldn’t mind feeding the bees a little, once in a while, but maybe next time it won’t be in the birdbath so close to the back door?

Dutch Oven cuisine from New Mexico

While I was in New Mexico last month, I have to say the food that was served (most of the time) was fantastic even to my own finicky palate (I can’t eat Beef). One of the nites, the camp cook presented us with a selection of Dutch Oven cakes. In comparing recipes, I found that one of the recipes was similar to my own, so I came home all fired up (no pun intended) to make one of these cakes at home. Last night was the perfect opportunity to make this cake as I was cooking pork steaks on the grill.

First, start a LARGE fire to create ample coals. I use mesquite wood from our trees mostly, but sometimes add in a few commercial coals as well, usually made of wood chunks, not pressed and quick lite black coals.

Marinate and spice your meat, set aside. (Wood is in flame stage)

Take a large piece of foil and line a cast iron skillet. Throw in sliced zuchinni, yellow squash, bell peppers, garlic, tomatoes, etc from the garden. Toss with a little (1/4 cup) olive oil (All these are in my garden except the olive oil) Sometimes I add a little bit of herbs from the garden (usually oregano and basil) but I don’t often add salt, leaving that for everyone to figure out for themselves at the table. Cover the skillet with foil. Put these on the side of the grill while the coals are forming. (Meat is still marinating on your counter)

Prepare Dutch oven cake.

Line your DO with foil and spray with cooking spray or lightly oil the foil.

Line the bottom of the pan with either a pie filling mix, or in my case, use peaches from the trees that have been sliced, heated with a little butter and water, a dash of lemon juice and 1 cup Splenda. Then dump an inexpensive yellow cake mix on top - do not mix. Slice up one stick of butter (I use real unsalted butter) and place evenly across the top. Get out your old turkey pan or use the fire box on your grill if available. Scoop hot coals into fire box/turkey pan, then set the Dutch Oven on top. Scoop about 10-15 hot coals onto the top lid. Make a note of the time!

NOW, throw your meat on the grill while it is still very hot. Sear both sides of the meat (about 2 minutes per side) - then baste with leftover marinade and cook, 5 minutes to a side for about 20 minutes. (4 flips of the meat)

Remove veggy skillet, open foil and sprinkle on a little mozzerella cheese. Remove meat and serve all while piping hot.

When you are done eating and visitin’ with the family, go out and check on the cake. It should almost be done. I check at about 35-40 minutes, then add coals if needed. Your cake should be golden brown on top and smell like heaven when you remove the lid.

In the summer time temps of 100+, this is a low labor meal to cook out of doors. You can even stand inside your patio door and stare at the grill to keep cool, watching the hummingbirds zoom by the feeders and the area birds trying to sneak a bath in the sprinklers as you water the herb and veggy gardens. Clean up is fast and easy. Generally, there is no leftover steak and veggies, but bag ‘em if you have em to reheat for lunch tomorrow! Scrape your grill for meat residue, you can spray it off later after the coals have died and the fat has all burned off. Throw away the foil from the veggies and go hang the skillet. Cake doesn’t usually hang around long either, so again, throw away the foil and inspect your dutch oven for leak over, spot clean and store. Of course, you still have to wash the silver and dishes from eating - unless you used paper and plastic ware!

White Buffalo Calf Woman

While on retreat in New Mexico, the staff and participants were treated to a fantastic opportunity - a “Becoming Relatives” ceremony presented by my new friend Karen. (I’ll withhold her full name for confidentiality). In this picture, several people are helping raise the lodge that will be used for part of the ceremony and also as a sleeping shelter for a few of the women staffers that same night.

While we as a crew probably took longer assembling the thing than Karen could have probably done by herself, it was a very fun and memorable experience as our ‘guide’ explained the purpose of each step. The tearing of the red cloth to make the flags on the top poles, the raising of the poles, the placing of the outer covering - all have a meaning and order that must be followed, and yes - treasured.

As dusk fell, everyone gathers outside the lodge in a semi-circle around the front opening. Karen sits in front dressed in full length ceremonial dress, a white confection of skins that gracefully defines the beauty of this medicine woman and her beliefs. In front of her are the skins of buffalo laid respectfully on the ground at her feet. As she begins to speak, a hush falls into the valley and I’m sure I’m not the only one to feel a shiver crawl down my back as nature opens our eyes and ears to the surrondings and the quiet, but forceful words being spoken. A fire is lit at her feet, and the smells of sage and sweet grasses wafts over to the farthest corners. With accompanying gestures of respect, our spirit guide welcomes the cardinal directions, explaining the meaning of each. She tells the story of White Buffalo Calf Woman, a sacred entity and prophesy in itself cherished not only by the Lakota tribes, but also other religions. A rare twist in the story - Karen had been dreaming about the reappearance of White Buffalo Calf Woman and indeed, such a woman did appear in our midst and take on the name of White Buffalo Calf Woman. (That is their story to tell, not mine). There was a lot of tearful joy in this ceremony as it progressed on to a blessing ceremony as each sister was welcomed to the buffalo robe. By the tribes they had been split into, Hopi, Zuni, Apache, Comanche and Navajo, each tribe consisting of 10 newly bound sisters, they were called to the rug, then ceremonially blessed and given a ‘medicine’ pouch. The moments passed with tears of joy, hugs and sharings. Towards the end of the groups’ blessings, I had to leave because I wasn’t feeling well and coughing loud enough to disturb the proceedings, so when I was offered a ride back to camp just then with Turkey Tom and Motor Matt, I sadly accepted so as not to disturb the peace and solemnness of the proceedings.  I missed the final closing and blessing of the staff members, so did not receive my Sister name or medicine bundle, but the memories I take away from what I was able to help with in setting up the lodge, making a beaded prayer chain for a hawk feather and the ceremony I did get to observe will stay in my heart. We are all blessed with the hope the White Buffalo Calf Woman brings to us.

For lessons of hope to add to your life, do a search and read the stories on White Buffalo Calf Woman. Each telling is a little different, but the message of the hope it brings is universal.

Women’s Wilderness Escape

In July, I was priviledged to attend (as an instructor) the NRA’s Women’s Wilderness Escape in New Mexico. Many of the pictures and stories you will see on this blog for the next month will be about that event; mostly the wildlife in that region of NM.

Among some of the events the “Escapees” were treated to are Pistol Shooting, Rifle, Shotgun and Muzzleloading, Archery, Turkey calling, Tree stand use and safety, Refuse to be a Victim training, High Powered Rifle shooting, building wilderness shelters, wildlife viewing, camping under the stars, Cowboy Action Shooting with a bonus CA Fashion show (those corsets! Wow!), a Blessing Ceremony, Laser Shot and more.

With over 30 staff and instructors, most high in the Type A personality profile, the women attendees were treated to a high caliber of experience. Sure, there would be glitches and disputes, as par for the course, but the professional team assembled on site were up to the task. I hesitate to comment on personalities (did I mention the Type A’s?) and my feelings on them, but stand firm when I say these women (and a couple guys) are the most fantastic people I have ever worked with. I’ll include some of the funny and interesting stories and hopefully not step on any toes. I’ll try to keep names out of it with the exception of some first names, nicknames and hints alluding to what they do. This event differs from many of the courses I have taught in that not only was it instructional - but it was also emotional. My profound thanks go to the ladies that invited me along for the ride. Now that I’ve been on this trail, I hope to ride back for more and meet more beautiful women. I wish I could include every person there in my life and finish every conversation ever started there, but time was tight with an overfull schedule and opportunities sorely missed.

More yummies from my garden

Yesterday I helped my husband bring in more produce from the garden. The catch of the day yielded a dozen bell peppers, some cherry peppers and more tomatos. My overstuffed refrigerator couldn’t take much more and the counters are getting full again with the zuchinni, yellow squash, peppers, tomatoes, potatoes and more, so it was time to cook up a new dish for our evening meal. Some of the ingredients are local from my garden or freezer, but I added in mushrooms with brown and wild rice, olive oil and sea salt. The mushrooms COULD have come from here, but they were from Arkansas. The rice came from Houston. I try to keep as much of my ingredients somewhat local as I can to help with the gas crisis.

Stuffed Bell Peppers

Ingredients:

• 4 large green bell peppers, stems and seeds removed, left whole
• Rice for 4 servings
• Finely chopped sausage (deer/hog), about one cup
• 6 small tomatoes, diced
• 1 green pepper, finely chopped
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• 1 cup mushrooms (fresh - diced)
• 1/8 cup olive oil
• 1 cup water, more if needed (for rice)
• 1 teaspoon grated sea salt (more or less to taste)
• handful of fresh herbs (basil, parsley, oregano) chopped fine

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Set aside a large iron skillet that has been lightly greased with olive oil.

On stove top, bring water to rapid boil and stir in the rice. Let it boil on high about 7 minutes until water is absorbed, add more water if needed. Just before it starts to stick to pan, add remaining ingredients except for whole peppers. Mix thoroughly and warm on medium heat for about 3 minutes. Remove pan from fire. Put prepared cast iron skillet (or dutch oven) on counter and center within it the 4 whole cleaned peppers with openings on top. Spoon rice mix into peppers, any remaining can be bunched around the outside edges. Cover with foil and bake for 45 minutes. Top with cheese if you like as it comes from the oven. I used parmesan this time. Serve immediately. Serves 4 people, but we three managed to polish it all off and want more. Along with the pepper main dish, I served steamed green beans with tiny boiled potatoes mixed in, a dash of salt & pepper. Our garden grapes were for dessert and cool herbal tea quenched our summer thirst.

NOTE: this recipe can easily be made in your dutch oven outside, you may have to replace the coals to get the full cooking time, so keep extra coals ready. If you have thawed out more sausage from your freezer than needed, this is a good use for the coals!

Little Bear in New Mexico

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This is Little Bear, one of the three bears (or more) that I saw in New Mexico earlier this month. I definitely need a better camera for next time, but for now, this will have to do. To give you an idea of size, the stump to his left came up to my shoulder (about 5 feet) and he is approx. 20 yards away from me. This picture is the point where he decides to ‘mock challenge’ me as I am trying to drive him away.

The bears of New Mexico are starving right now with the severe drought they have been experiencing. At this location, we are just under an elevation of 7000 feet according to my GPS. The bears have been coming into our camp, digging into the dumpsters, leaving teeth marks on the bumpers of cars, paw prints on the mirrors, snuffling under our windows for scents of forbidden food taken into the cabins, and even exploring the port-a-potties. We did answer the age old question - does a bear poop in the woods? Nope! Not if they have a port-a-pot around!

The story of this particular bear is a fun one with a good ending, but I’ll repeat the oft heard phrase ‘don’t try this at home’. For a handful of days, I had been really wanting to see some of the bears that had been visiting our camp. Also, it was our job to ’shoo away’ the animals that entered our gun range so that we wouldn’t shoot them. This event happened about 2 in the afternoon. I was away from the student group and I was replacing bulls eye targets while the Pistol class was listening to the Master Sargeant talk about the semi-auto they were getting ready to shoot. I heard a rustling at the edge of the range and looked up to find a black bear entering the range and headed for the trash can - right next to the students. Aiming to keep him up range and scare him away, I stepped from behind the target frame, grabbed my instamatic camera, shot a picture - then yelled at him. Slowly, he paced away from me and further up the range, with me walking behind yelling ’shoo, go away’ and all that. Each step I took, I bent to the camera, took a picture, then shooed some more. It was step, ‘click’ - “Shoo bear” - step,  click - “Git” - and so on. The bear was getting mighty sick of me and stopped at the stump about two thirds of the way into the range. It could be he was looking for grubs, insects and such since they all spend most of their day foraging and the stump looked good to him. He stopped at the stump, put one paw on top and stood up part ways. It looked like he was posing for a photo op. I was closer than I liked and he was bigger than I first thought. Hopefully, the students behind me were getting good pictures (or loading their guns!) Earlier, I had taken off my long sleeve shirt, so all I had was a short sleeve T-shirt - so nothing to hold above my head and wave to make me look larger.

The bear didn’t want to go and didn’t like me, so he stepped down off the stump and came around - then stomped a couple feet towards me. At this point, I thought he was huge and that I was maybe 40 yards away. (Yes, this is an Oh Shit! moment). Knowing I can’t run because that is an open invitation for a bear to chase, I started yelling louder and flapping my arms up and down like a huge - well - gooney bird I guess. He got the message, thank god, and backed away and took off for the woods. Later, I measured my distance from the bear, and I was only about 20 yeards away and had put myself in a very bad position in my attempt to get a picture AND chase him off the range and away from the trash. My pictures will sometimes be shown to my Hunt Ed classes with the firm admonition - do what I SAY and not what I do. Good intentions aside (chase bear away from students), what I did wasn’t too smart.

This bear I named Little Bear because he was the smallest of the three I could seperately identify. He was healthy and fat, mostly a medium brown with a little lighter cinnamon color on his top hairs across the back. I would estimate his weight at a bit over 200 pounds with his shoulder (when on all fours) at about 3 and a half feet tall. The bears are getting used to all the humans around and finding food quite plentiful in the dumpsters and trash cans. Sadly, if they become too used to us, they may have to be destroyed. At the very least, some will have to be relocated, which often just moves the problem elsewhere or only allows a temporary solution as bears cover large territories and often find their way back.

After hearing the stories of my chasing the bear off the range, the next morning I gave a briefing to all present at our flag ceremony. I reminded everyone of the following facts that everyone should pay attention to:

• Bears are normally not aggressive to people.
• NEVER run from a bear as it triggers their chase instinct.
• Take off your shirt or pack and raise it over your head to appear larger and yell loudly. If I had done this (removed my skimpy T shirt) - I imagine the bear would have said ‘oh yuck’ and ran as quickly away as he could.
• Throw rocks, use an air horn, make noise any way you can while backing away slowly.
• Don’t make eye contact with a bear or any wild animal, it’s a sign of aggression to them and often one challenge they won’t back away from.
• Keep your camps clean and never take food into your tent or cabin.
• Do not wear sweet flavored lotions, deoderant, perfumes, hair gels or use shampoo, body wash or laundry soap that smells good.
• Above all, do not force an encounter with a bear. If you are attacked, fight back with everything you can lay your hands on to show you are not easy prey. DO NOT PLAY DEAD!

This is only a brief description of one of my bear close encounters over the two weeks in the New Mexico mountains. Many more opportunities will show the desperation of the bears to get food.