by Dr Naomi Wolf at Outspoken with Dr Naomi Wolf
I was relaxing in our screened porch in our little cottage in the forest, feeling rather pleased with myself. It had been an arduous week of the usual combat for liberty, but there had been victories.
I was reading a decorating magazine (we all have our vices). The grass was dewy; birds were loud. The morning was glorious.
I was feeling pioneer-ish and independent. I was alone in the house; Brian was traveling. I enjoyed the narrative moment: “Lady in the woods.”
Then I heard a “thump” about eight feet away behind my head. It was an exasperated thump, like a teenager slamming the door to his room. Like, “Really??”
I glanced behind me and saw the enormous ears and forehead of a sizable brown bear, who was ducking insolently, clearly aware of me, to lower himself behind the trash cans.
I sped indoors, locking the door. I grabbed a weapon out of the hall closet. In my haste, I grabbed the weapon that looked like a rifle, instead of the actual rifle, which was in a case. Thus I found myself locked in an upstairs bathroom, cowering, armed with a BB gun.
I sort of knew this bear. Brian had captured on his trail camera about a year ago, what must have been this bear and his brother or sister, when the little ones were just adorable cubs. One of the cubs had nuzzled the trailcam til the mom had batted it away, urging her little ones to follow her deeper into the woods, far from the dangerous things of men. One of the cubs was now this massive creature, that bear-watchers call a “sub-adult.”
I saw, peering fearfully out of the window,…
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