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The plan was merely to empty some trash into the
container in our alley, but it went awry as a hulking
creature appeared from the shadows. Quillen,
the
bear hissed, come with me to our meeting.
There was no point in arguing with a big and burly critter that could easily outrun me, so I followed him down alleys, pausing while he tipped over trash cans and gulped garbage, until we reached Salida's F Street Bridge. We crossed the river and the rusting railroad tracks. I had to stop often to catch my breath on the steep, rocky hike up Dead Goat Gulch.
Finally we arrived at an aspen grove, site of the annual convention of the Colorado chapter of the Ursine Liberation Front. My guide introduced me to the chairbear, Boo-Boo, something of a goof-off in his youth but now a respected elder.
We're trying to figure out what to do with those
problem hominids that keep moving into our habitat,
Boo-Boo explained. We've tried hazing them, and we've
euthanized a few over the years, but they're not getting
the message.
A sow named Dowjones spoke up. I don't think that's
entirely true. They aren't building nearly as many new dens
this year and many of their old dens sit empty with no food
inside. I've overheard them say it's on account of
something they call a 'bear market.' So perhaps they are
listening.
And they're not all bad,
a yearling boar named
Alec interjected. I was foraging over in Snowmass last
month and tumbled into this deep pit with hard, steep
sides. I couldn't climb out, no matter how hard I tried. I
thought it might be a new kind of bear trap. Then I worried
that perhaps bear-baiting was back in style and they'd
bring in some big dogs.
He paused for effect. But come sunrise, this human
dude brings a ladder and shoves it down so I could climb
out and go on my way. It was, like, a total surprise. I
never thought those weird bipeds could be so awesomely
cool.
There were murmurs of disbelief in his far-fetched tale, which stopped when a mature sow with lustrous brown fur named Organia Green changed the subject.
My cubs and I thrive on a wholesome natural diet,
she pointed out. Beetle grubs, yampa roots, scrub-oak
acorns, pinon nuts, juicy raspberries and strawberries,
sweet honey from the comb, fresh field mice and the
occasional fawn. We're strong and healthy because we stay
off the grid.
Her tone grew accusative. So what on earth are you
guys thinking when you lumber into their habitat to eat
pizza boxes, candy wrappers, white bread, processed cheese,
sugary drink containers, paper towels soaked with bacon
grease -- can't you see? The bipeds don't have to shoot you
to kill you. You lazy louts are killing yourselves with
that toxic junk.
Boo-boo managed to cut her off before she could start in
on global warming. You're right, Organia, but you need
to remember that we're programmed to stock up on calories
this time of year, and their food has more calories than
anything nature ever provided.
Organia huffed but did not interrupt Boo-Boo as he went
on. The main thing is that we need a strategy for next
year,
he said. Should we continue our dispersed
guerilla campaign, or join together for a mass assault on
one of their command centers?
The bruins murmured among themselves before a husky boar
named Elias spoke up. Most of us have been around their
dens and overheard them talking about how they're losing
their jobs and they can't afford health care, let alone
dens in the mountains. As Dowjones said, we're gaining on
account of this 'bear market' factor. Let's stick with a
winning strategy.
They all agreed. I asked Boo-Boo for a statement.
Just let the invading occupiers know that we're staying
the course,
he said, and we plan to be here long
after they withdraw.
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