With the weather fair today, Charlotte and I ventured farther than ever we have before. Where the wagon trail weaves north, we came across a small meadow. It was a picturesque scene, the way the sunlight caught the buzzing insects and tawny grass. Several small birds fluttered up from the grass, landed, flew up again, but I could not identify them with the naked eye. We walked to a small rise, and from there we could see that the meadow turned to marshland at the far side. We set down packs and camera, I brought out the field glasses, and we sat there for some time in silence, watching the tree swallows and dragonflies.
The black bear seemed completely ignorant of our presence. It wandered out from the trees not a hundred yards away, its head down in the grass as if looking for some morsel of food. Now and then it brought its snout up to sniff the air, but never indicated it saw us.
Charlotte was equally unaware as she looked to the distance through the field glasses. I touched her elbow, and when she saw where I pointed, she squeaked, and then reached for her sling-shot. I shook my head and urgently mouthed the words “no, no.”
Thank heavens the child obeyed me! At best, she would have startled the bear so that it would have fled, ruining our chances to observe it. A more terrifying likelihood is that the creature would have been provoked to come after us, and I do not think we would have fared well, no matter how straight her aim or fast our legs.
So Charlotte and I remained still and silent, yet it required much willpower on my part, for such nervous energy coursed through my veins. All of my senses and attention were fixed upon the bear, so that the animal became fully formed, magnified even: dusty black fur, small ears that twitched at the insects, the gentle slope of its forehead, the immense weight and bulk of its presence. It was nothing like the cool, white marble bear of my childhood.
And then the bear looked at us. Its eyes were quite small and dark, like wet pebbles in its enormous black head. It watched us for what was surely only a few seconds, but time had become mutable, slowed, so that I had long enough to consider what the bear may or may not do, and it was a disquieting consideration. At last, it turned from us and began to lumber away across the meadow, and time sped alongside it, so that when the bear disappeared into the far trees, it was as if all had happened within the clap of hands.
When we returned to the barracks, Charlotte sprinted to Mr MacGillivray where he was working in the general’s garden.
“A bear! We saw a bear!”
“What is all this?”
I confirmed that it was true, indeed we had spied a black bear just a few miles away. Mr MacGillivray seemed skeptical but concerned, and he expressed relief that we had survived the ordeal.
And just now as I write, I have realized that in all the excitement, I left my field glasses at the marsh!
June 16
I am yet unsettled by it, the gaze of the black bear.
For some time after Father’s death, I imagined, with both fear and hope, that I would someday meet a wild bear in the forest near the quarry, and that when I looked into its eyes, I would know that it was Father.
Of course, I found no such sign in this bear. In its small, dark eyes, I saw nothing recognizable or connected to my brain, no common affinity or acknowledgment. Only an alien wildness that was grand and terrible.
I am glad of Mr MacGillivray’s news. He set out on horseback yesterday and found tracks in the mud of a nearby creek, yet he saw nothing of the animal itself. (And, kind man, he retrieved my precious field glasses. I am only fortunate it did not rain on them during the night.)
I begged Mr MacGillivray that we might keep the knowledge of the bear to ourselves, for if the men of the barracks, many of them bored and keen to prove their bravery, learn of its presence, there will be a hunt on.
“I agree with you there, Mrs Forrester. Much rather let the fellow find his way back into the mountains. As long as he doesn’t overstay his welcome.”
Both Charlotte and I promised we would not wander so far, an agreement to which I was amenable. While I am glad to have seen the bear,, for surely it is one of the most extraordinary occurrences of my life, I have no desire to repeat it.
June 17
I have been issued a summons; I am to present myself at General Haywood’s house tomorrow afternoon.
Mrs Connor! I have no doubt. It seems she has taken it upon herself to directly or indirectly inform the General of the modifications I have made to the pantry. Insufferable busybody!
Bless the soldier who delivered the message, for he began immediately with, “This isn’t regarding your husband. We have no news about the Colonel’s whereabouts. The General wants to see you on another matter. It’s about your room here, where you do your picture-making.”