Tackling The Bear

If I were a mountain man I would probably have a goal, and one goal only.  Every morning when the sun creeps over the pointy peaks of the Sierras and the trees just light up green I would wake up in my log cabin.  One room, nothing fancy.  A nice little stove fireplace deal going on, a small one man bed, maybe a dresser and a desk and chair and table too.  Nothing much, simple but just enough.  I'd probably have a wardrobe or something, because I have to keep my cloths somewhere you know.  I'd mostly wear cargo pants so I can carry lots of stuff in my pockets.  There are always cool sticks and rocks you find in the woods.  I'd probably have a cool rifle too, and I'd need ammo of course.  I'd also have a big knife, something practical, but deadly.  I have to stay safe you know.  And with my stuff, I'd get all ready to go on my hunt to reach my one goal as a mountain man.

I'd suit up eat my breakfast and leave the cabin into the mountain air, breathing in the freshness.  The crisp smell of the pines filters through my nose and my lungs and back out through my mouth.  Today is the day, I feel it in my bones.  It's an interesting thought.  People use the phrase "dry as a bone."  But if the bone is in someone's body I imagine it would still be sort of slimy with all that blood, flesh, and muscle around it.  Just saying.  So my slimy bones feel it, they aren't dry of course.  I feel it.  Today is most certainly the day.  I set off up the mountain.  Birds chirp at me, and I'm pretty sure they're cheering me on, but you can never tell with birds.  They can be very rude sometimes.  I met a crow once who had the audacity to call me a pig over and over again.  I shot him.  So he doesn't call me a pig anymore.  Because he's dead.

So anyways.  As I'm walking I hear this loud roaring from my right.  That's him alright.  I approach cautiously.  Well not really, I'm loud as can be because  "Loud Stupid Fool" is my middle name, as is "Danger" and "Lovestotakerisksbecausehethinksitiscooltodothat."  (If you can read that middle name then bravo).  So The bear does nothing.  The poor loser is stuck in a bear trap, his fat hairy leg all bloody and stuff.  I feel bad you know, like, am I supposed to kill me a bear when he's all caught up and stuff?  No, I don't think so!  So I decide I should maybe help him or something.  Again I approach not cautiously and poke the bear with my rifle.  He roars and motions to the bear trap.  I give him the thumbs up and he nods.  He doesn't want to be trapped I guess, well obviously not.  So I just take out my crafty big old cool neat awesome sharp worksforeverything knife and pry open that there bear trap.  The bear is all, roaring and runs away and falls because he's hurt and stuff, he can't go far.  You know I just feel bad and stuff, so I tell him I'll help him out.  So we walk back to my cabin and I bandage him all up and he's like that's cool and so we're both cool with each other now.

So my goal of catching that bear weren't exactly the way I planned them.  Instead of getting a cool rug or something like that I made a new forest friend.  But that's pretty chill because now I have another way of survival up here in the mountains and stuff you know.  So it's all good, I'm totally alright with it.

But yeah, that's only if I was a mountain man.  I'm actually just an astronaut.  I've got nothing better to do, I'm a little bored of the view, and the extraterrestrials are only such good company.  But what ever.  I can dream about the earth I see far away from me and my beautiful mountains.  So  it's all good.  I'll tackle a bear another day, or make a friend with one, whatever.