A Single Thread
As disparate as the words in the above title are, the stories behind them are connected by a single thread that runs through every living thing. You’ll recognize it readily enough. Maybe you’ve already guessed it. Our survival depends on it. But what happens to it when it’s misapplied? Over-generalized? Goes awry? Or when times are desperate?
The Four Bears
Share Bear
Young and single, my friend and I were looking for a little adventure. It was summertime and we both had a few days off work. I was living in Calgary and Jean was visiting so we decided to hitchhike to Banff and camp for the weekend. It didn’t take long to thumb down a ride. The problem was that two cars pulled over. The young guys explained that they were delivering the cars to Banff and each would give one of us a ride. Of course this was before the advent of cell phones but after the release of movies like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
Jean and I looked at each other.
Each hoping the other could read the reluctance in our eyes, neither of us wanted to be the one to say no. So we hopped into separate cars and sped, we hoped, towards Banff. Once we reached town, our drivers waited patiently for us to pick up a few groceries: bacon, eggs, milk, chips, cheese, crackers and a big bottle of Baby Duck. Then they drove us to the campground. Reminding us to sling our food between two trees, they sped away leaving us with the uncomfortable knowledge that they knew where we were camped.
But these helpful guys were not the problem.
We were traveling light so it didn’t take us long to set up the pup tent and unroll our sleeping bags. Keeping the cheese, crackers, chips and wine out for a light dinner, we tied the rest of our meager supplies into a bag and slung it between two trees. It was getting dark by this time so we hunkered down in the tent, munched our snacks and washed it down with the oh-not-so-great Baby Duck. Rehashing the afternoon and all the what-ifs, we fine tuned our imaginations to every sound that echoed across the campground. Finally, stashing our leftovers by our feet, we settled down to sleep.
And that’s when we heard it.
Wha. It was the noise of air jarred from your lungs when you make impact with the ground. Again. Wha. Then a third time. Wha. Shortly after there was a crash followed by smacking and slurping. Wide awake, we became uncomfortably aware of the cheese and crackers lying at our feet and wondered if a almost empty bottle of Baby Duck carefully aimed would dissuade a marauding bear. Helpless in our tent, we dissolved into laughter and tried futilely to smother the sound. As the first blush of dawn lighted the sky, we peeked out to see what was left of our food.
Err Bear
Fast forward several years. Newly married, our first home was a rustic cabin that stood on a cliff overlooking a back-channel of the Shuswap River. The cabin was 2 km off the highway down a winding dirt road. It was idyllic . Huge curtainless windows framed the beauty of the river and trees below. A narrow trail zigzagged down the cliff to a deep pond mellowed out in the back-channel. It was a perfect and private place to swim and float while watching the clouds float across the blue sky.
We planted a garden
There was a large garden plot near the house. It was sectioned off from the driveway and surrounding forest with a chicken wire fence. Too large for our use, we tilled half of it for planting and let the grass and wild-flowers grow. Mid-summer, we left for the weekend to visit my sister and her family in Seattle. Arriving home after dark, our headlights swept across the garden and caught the silhouette of a bear as it squeezed under the fence and melted into the forest.
The next day, after my husband left for work, I called our dog and headed to the garden to see what could be harvested. As I walked through the gate, I saw flattened circles in the tall grass. Our cabbage had bites out of them. Carrots had been dug up and partially eaten.
Standing there confused, I heard wha, wha, wha.
Startled, I looked up to see a bear barreling towards the garden. I dropped the freshly harvested veggies, called the dog, kicked off my flipflops and ran. Crashing open the door of the cabin, I locked it behind me. My husband was confused when he returned home from work and opened the door to find me sitting with rifle in hand.
Scare Bear
My knees were castanets as I stood holding the reins of our horses. I’d abandoned my husband and three girls for a 2 week wilderness horse trip in the Northern Rockies. And this is how it was going to end. I watched the grizzly getting larger as it tore up the trail towards us. We’d spied it as we came around the corner. Situated further along the game trail that followed the river, it was working at something on the ground.
Sensing us, it lifted its head and sniffed the air.
Then spun around and came towards us at top speed. All four of us dismounted quickly. Marcy and I each grabbed hold of the extra reins that were thrust into our hands and the two men stood on a little knoll in front of us waving their arms and shouting. Inexplicably it veered off the trail about 15 feet in front of us and disappeared into the bush. That night, alone in my tent, I fell asleep with my whistle in my hand.
Nightmare Bear
This final story has a tragic ending. Laird Hot Springs is a beautiful natural Hot Springs about 4 hours north of Fort Nelson. My husband was going there for work so we decided that the kids and I would follow with the camper and fit in one last trip before school started. The campground was almost full when we arrived as it’s a popular stopping place for people driving the Alaska Highway.
Laird Hot Springs
A boardwalk through marshes frequented by moose and wetland birds leads to the Hot Springs. There water burbles from the hillside. Unbearably hot where it first exits the ground, it cools to pleasant temperatures as you move down stream.
[easy-image-collage id=2274]Liard Hot Springs Boardwalk and Lower Pool
I’d taken the kids to play in the Hot Springs and afterwards we’d wandered up to the hanging gardens. The lush vegetation more beautiful than anything in a manicured yard.
Late afternoon, we headed back to the campground to start supper.
My husband appeared and seeing we needed fresh water, grabbed the bucket and headed to the water pump. At that moment, chaos erupted in the campground as people came running from the Hot Springs.
A bear had charged a woman as she walked along the boardwalk leading to the hanging gardens, biting deep into her upper body. Her son attempted to help his mom by hitting the bear causing it to turn on him. Two men came running to the screams and tried to beat the bear away. It knocked one of the men off the boardwalk and grabbed his throat. Finally after being kicked in the face, the bear fled only to reappear further up the path where it grabbed a fourth victim who suffered deep lacerations to his leg where the bear attempted to drag him into the bush. Two people died in this attack. What caused the bear to go on this rampage?
Self-preservation Affectation
Yes. The common thread that runs through the stories of the four bears is self-preservation. When it’s misapplied, self-preservation which is so essential to the survival of all species, has the power to wreak havoc. And I mean in the human world. Differing events triggered the self-preservation instinct in each of the bears. And lessons learned from them will help us guard our own self-preservation instinct from going awry.
Why bears?
I have a fearsome love for bears. They are cute and cuddly looking on the one hand, but so wild and unpredictable on the other. Their instinct for self-preservation is raw and untamed and that’s the reason I chose these stories to illustrate this mental model.
Yes! Our self-preservation instinct is a mental model and its one that informs our thinking on a sub-conscious level. Without the awareness of how this instinct operates in our lives, our actions and thoughts are irrational and/or unwarranted. None of us want to make poor decisions. Or to lack in our ability to think through problems effectively. The stories about the four bears not only make the instinct memorable, but also show how important our awareness of this instinct is to our daily living.
This is the first of a two-part series. In the next post, we’ll explore how the self-preservation instinct can sabotage our thinking. Check back for part two.
P.S. Driving home from Banff this Spring, we counted 17 bears feeding alongside the road. No, I didn’t get pictures of all of them. Sometimes we spotted them to late or there wasn’t a safe place to pull over. My husband was as accommodating as possible though and I got pictures of quite of few of them.
P.S.S. Can I say it again? I love bears. But it’s far better to have the realistic view of the unpredictable wild beauty of the black bear, than the diminutive view of a cuddly teddy bear. For this is a disservice to bears and humans alike.
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