Montana Jones

Montana n: A state of the northwest United States bordering on Canada. Admitted as the 41st state in 1889. The fourth largest state in the union, it includes vast prairies and numerous majestic mountain ranges.
Syn: Treasure State, Big Sky Country, Last Best Place.

Jones n: slang. An addiction or very deep craving.

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

What the bear saw:

Bear1:
Hey Clyde, we got hikers again.
Bear2:
Again? Man, I hate those things. What are they doing?
Bear1:
They've seen us. They are just standing there watching us.
Bear2:
Blocking the trail?
Bear1:
Yeah.
Bear2:
Dude, we are never gonna make it to the party on time with these damn hikers holding us up.
Bear1:
I know. I wanna get there too. An old elk buddy of mine is gonna hook me up with this cute silver tip from the north fork.
Bear2:
You think you have a chance with the silver tip? I got two berry bushes says you get shut down by that girl.
Bear1:
Yer' on. I been practicing my moves. Hey baby, come to this side of the mountain often?
Bear2:
So what are the hikers doing?
Bear1:
They are standing there blocking the trail like complete morons.
Bear2:
Dude, c'mon. Let's just go around.

What the hikers saw:

There I was and this is no shit. I thought I was gonna die! It was huge and ferocious. All claws, fur and muscle. When it growled in our faces its breath stank like the devils underpants. I could see the murderous lust for blood in its eye and I couldn't help but to whimper. I mean, it was a manly whimper. Any macho guy would have whimpered to see this amazing 500 pound mass of grizzly bear looming high and blocking the sun. I had to defend my hiking partner, a weak and innocent girl, at all costs. I was very manly when I stepped between her and the bear. What? my pants? Noooooo. No way. That wet spot is bear drool. Yeah, I know it really drooled all down my left leg. But it was just him and me, all I had was my wits. No, no. I did not say I screamed like a girl, I said I defended the girl. Hey, quit that! Do you want to hear the story or not?

What the marmot saw:

It was almost time for my early afternoon nap and the sun had just come out for the first time all day. I thought a little snooze in the sunshine would be quite delightful, and afterwards a glacier lily salad.

You know that wonderful sunning rock of mine? The one with the view of the waterfall. Charming spot and the sun made that waterfall just extra sparkly. I like to watch everyone coming and going on the trail from there.

So anyway, there were these hikers gawking at the waterfall, like they do, and when they started off down the trail again I could see they were walking straight toward bears. I whistled. What else could I do? And get this, the one with the funny hat looked up and said "You know, when you hear the marmots whistle sometimes you can spot an eagle or predator around."

Well I tried whistling at them again and, I swear, they actually thought I was whistling about them. Like I would ever whistle about hikers. They are noisy, smelly and bad neighbors, but are fairly harmless. I don't know why I bother trying to warn them in the first place.

Well, those poor souls got lucky and saw the bears before they stumbled over them. It's all for the best really. Bears and hikers don't get along so well and I could do without the commotion.

Comments:
What, we get a photo of the whistling pig, and no bears?
 
lol, too funny
 
Sweetness...great perspectives. Awsome story...
 
admit, you used a zoom lens.
 
err.. oh. that's not the bear. ;)
 
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