Does a Bear Shit in the Woods?

In 2007, I was working for the Boy Scouts of America at a boy scout camp in northern Wisconsin.  I was handling the shop, basically a store manager 1/2 the time, and a park ranger 1/2 the time. My duties were pretty simple;  Man the shop, try to discourage any stealing, and still keep the boy scout mindset going, as well as keep the kids entertained and happy. It was a simple though time consuming job, and it was my first experience after graduating high school. I was pretty convinced that if THIS was adult life, I was in for a treat.

I was in Wisconsin, in the northern woods, during a summer where there was sighting after sighting of bear(s) in the area, and my job was to stay safely and pleasantly inside during  the hottest part the day, out of harm's way. I loved my coworkers, I worked for peanuts, and I was outdoors enough to warrant a truly epic beard.

My Scouting Years, with Poorly Managed (though unbelievably thick) Beard

Every week there was a drill to prepare for if we ever lost a scout.  We would turn on a loud siren, every scout and scoutmaster (adult supervisor) would run back to their campsites, gather up and take a roll-call, and we the camp staff would run to our main office, get a duty of some sort, and go run to every campsite either to confirm the numbers.  It was between a half and two mile run round trip to the campsites, in midsummer, at full speed over hills and through the forest. It was sometimes unpleasant, and depending on which campsite you were assigned to check, possibly a difficult and tiring run over bad terrain. Luckily for me, that final week of 2007, I was assigned the job of running to the very closest campsite, on a relatively flat and well-tread path, and the weather was nice and cool.  I remember even telling my boss that, "Sweet, close site!  This'll be a cinch."  I taunted the fates, and should have known better.

Only around a thousand feet along the path, my head down to watch for roots jutting out of the ground, I slammed into what appeared to be a very large dog. So, I naturally muttered a thousand tiny apologies, and backed up, and knelt down to see if it was ok. And when it turned around and was instead of a very large dog actually a small bear, I promptly fell on my ass, scooted backwards like a crab,  gibbering like a wounded baboon and making various unintelligible crying noises.  (Visualize a large man possessed by a feminine demon, and then make it even more pathetic)

I sat there, now only a few feet away from a small black bear (small bears seem surprisingly large when you're faced with one) sprawled backwards in my crisp boy scout uniform.  I pondered all the many stories I'd heard of bears that were surprised by a foolish hiker, and promptly mauled. I mulled, in that short second of time, over how many people a year are attacked when the bear is the aggressor, much less when they slam into the bear and bother it.  I reflected on the likelihood of me being promptly eaten, or merely ravaged, and left to die while my boss angrily waited for me to return from the campsite, and prepared to insult me for my lack of speed, and inability to run even a half mile without tiring.  I thought about ALL of this and more in those brief seconds before a seemingly inevitable attack because I forgot the most important fact about wildlife.

"It is far more scared of you than you are of it."

In my case, I was so terrified that I released a few drops of pee into my boxers, so frightened my voice shot into the soprano range and I seemed to lose even a HINT of speaking ability, so mind-numbingly scared that I didn't have the presence of mind to even stand up and get away.  And still the bear was considerably more afraid than me. 

(You might want to turn your volume down, the original video has someone adding sound effects for the bear and it's loud.....though probably accurate to how the bear feels)

It looked like this, except instead of a lion cub,
picture me, and make it a black bear.

The bear gave me a horrified look, and began to squeal like a piglet.  It was literally the strangest sound I have ever heard.   The bear which had just turned to see me for a half second, locked eyes, squealed incredibly loudly, and proceeded to violently poop itself.  It was in such a hurry to get away it immediately sprinted face first into a birch tree along the path, fell over onto its side, squealed again, and like a cartoon character, ran so fast it couldn't maintain traction with the ground, its legs repeatedly skittering around as if on ice. It fled the path, mewling and crying out the entire way as it rushed off into the woods, while fear induced craps continued to drop from its retreating furry bum.

I stood up and didn't know exactly what to do.  Utterly perplexed, I just sat still for a few moments before remembering I was still supposed to be on my way to the campsite.  Dazedly I ran to the site quickly, and finding no serious issues, trotted back to the main staff office. 

Everyone stared at me oddly as I walked in the door.  I was getting prepared to blurt out my story when someone butted in and yelled, "What's that?" while pointing at my boot. At that exact moment a powerful stench met my nostrils in the enclosed indoor space.

I looked down, to see the fear induced projectile bear poop that the poor creature had fear-crapped out literally covering my entire right boot.  I stared back up, and said, "It's bear shit." Sufficiently shocked by my statement, everyone quieted, and I recounted my tale to a suddenly fascinated room.  When I mentioned the bear, I made sure to ignore its size as I explained my situation. There were appropriate gasps of surprise and impressed faces as I lightly embellished my tale to make me sound less like a scared little girl. I held their attention to the end, proudly stating, "And I just got up and finished my job."

Some young, high-pitched coworker asked me, "Were you scared? I mean, were you scared of it too? The bear?" 



I puffed up my chest, and was prepared to lie my ass off when my boss answered truthfully for me. He held up his hands and shrugged his shoulders. "Does a bear shit in the woods?"




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If you liked this sort of story, check out "Stu: My Bro-bama" or "Choir Boy to Mountain Man".

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