Larry discovers he needs more skills to survive in the Alaska wilderness. He and his family must face a bear destroying their homestead. The bear is winning so far. How can Larry help his family?
Larry discovers he needs more skills to survive in the Alaska wilderness. He and his family must face a bear destroying their homestead. The bear is winning so far. How can Larry help his family?
eBook
Available on Compatible NOOK devices, the free NOOK App and in My Digital Library.
Related collections and offers
Overview
Larry discovers he needs more skills to survive in the Alaska wilderness. He and his family must face a bear destroying their homestead. The bear is winning so far. How can Larry help his family?
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781504962032 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | AuthorHouse |
| Publication date: | 11/18/2015 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 50 |
| File size: | 2 MB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Bear That Went Bump in the Night
By Shereen H. Waterman
AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2015 Shereen WatermanAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-5049-6202-5
CHAPTER 1
Larry stood between the quarter-ton pick-up and the river and waited. He wanted to get started so badly he felt his muscles buzzing. He had helped fish the river salmon run for the past two years. He was bigger, stronger and smarter now.
As he stared at the surging fish filling the roaring water, Larry tried to identify all the kinds of salmon. He could teach little Suzie how to recognize them. There was a fast silver next to a big king followed by a late-run humpy that would turn bright red after spawning. He could almost tell the males from the females this year. Each species had its little differences. He thought of his job, reviewing the steps. He had to be more useful at fishing than at watching his little sister. That was a big chore when he was seven and she was three. Suzy didn't mind him, didn't stay where she was safe, always had to be doing something further away. Suzie had a big imagination, Mom said. She did stupid stuff like trying to eat a pine cone and then crying because it hurt her mouth. Larry jerked his mind back to the job here now.
Dad called Larry to the truck. "Three things to remember while you put on your boots. Watch all around for bears and sing out if you see one. This is their fishing season, too," said Dad, handing Larry rubber-soled canvas waders. He pulled on his own as he continued, "Respect Nature; you'll live longer. That means take your time, find your rhythm. That way you don't have accidents. No swimming with the fish." Larry had slipped and fallen into the cold water last year. He was lucky he hadn't been really badly hurt, just skinned up, bruised and freezing. "Be proud of your work; you are helping your family. Watch me and do what I do." Dad was big on giving reasons and doing a near-perfect job. He never admitted to perfect anything. When Larry did a good job, Dad said, "It'll stand," just like he said of his own workmanship.
Dad was wearing his old Army jacket, jeans and big canvas river boots with rubber soles. He walked to the rocky, sloped bank of Resurrection Creek where it fl owed through a corner of their Kenai, Alaska, homestead. In most places, this waterway would respectfully be called a river. It ran fast, five feet deep, yards wide, but in this huge land it was just another tributary off Moose Pass.
Larry picked up a gaff hook and joined his father looking up and down the creek. He pointed to a dark patch far upstream on the other bank.
"Good eyes," shouted Dad above the singing water and splashing fish. "Bears gorge now so they get fat for hibernation. Ready?" They stepped into the torrent, nudging feet between fish bodies.
Dad gaffed a salmon out of the cold water and swung it up in a graceful arc. The fish slid off the hook and flew straight up into the bed of the truck. Larry tried to copy his father. He chose a target, swung his long handle and managed to miss the first time. The salmon were so crowded swimming in the rippling water it was hard to see them one at a time. They were like a live optical illusion, moving up-river against the down-flow. But they couldn't escape or hide here. He tried again. And again.
Larry worked on coordinating his eyes, arms and legs. He told himself to be patience instead of just frustrated. He remembered what his dad said about rhythm so he made a few practice swings, just as if he were playing baseball at their one-room school house in town. The baseball thinking seemed to help. He hooked his next fish. Now lift and swing the heavy, wiggling body. He was surprised when his fish fell short of the truck. At least it came off the hook; that was better than last year.
Larry leaped up the bank to grab his fish by the tail before it could flip fl op itself back into the water. He slung it over into the truck bed. Another fish sailed over his head. He ducked and waved at Suzy watching from the back window of the cab. Her eyes and mouth were wide open. Dad had told her it was her job to keep count of the fish they caught.
As Larry turned back to the creek full of migrating salmon, he reminded himself to look around. The shadowy smudge upstream was now clearly a black bear sitting in the creek. He saw it swat a fish high up onto the bank. It was fishing well, too. Wasn't it cold?
Larry hooked another fish and slung it harder. He almost made it to the truck. He snagged another fish and then went up to carry both to the truck. He showed the fish to Suzy.
As he turned back, Larry saw Dad point down-river. There stood a huge brown bear on all fours in the river, belly-deep in the glacier water. One swish of her paw sent a fish sailing almost into the woods. A cub ran to grab breakfast. It sat right down and started eating like a kid with corn on the cob. Larry laughed. Then he wondered why the sow bear had come to their side of the mountain. Brown bears usually stayed more in the Chickaloosa Flats Moose Reserve over the mountain, Dad said. Bears were territorial but maybe they all shared the rivers.
Next time Larry looked upstream, he saw the black bear had moved down toward them. It was standing motionless in the water with a fish clamped in its jaws. It stared downstream. Larry stared back at it.
After several more fish, Larry checked downstream again. The big she-bear and her cub were picnicking at the edge of the woods. Several fishtails lay in the grass around them. Larry tossed another fish, missed again, and climbed the bank again. He saw the upstream black bear was much closer. It had crossed to their side of the creek.
Larry waved to get his father's attention and pointed. Dad nodded. He signaled two with his fingers. They each caught two more salmon, walking the last ones up to the truck. They tossed their gaffs and boots into one corner of the load and climbed into the cab. With the doors shut they could finally hear each other.
"That brown is a wise old mama, probably twenty years old. She'll take her cub upriver and they'll eat again tomorrow. The black is just curious about us," Dad reassured his children. "We call it our land, he calls it his land. Probably wants to know what we are doing in his river. He could see us like we see him but he can mostly smell everything."
"Or maybe he's lazy and wants to steal our fish!" laughed Larry. Suzy took her thumb out of her mouth long enough to laugh with him. He could tell she was scared. "Or maybe he thinks his river his fish so we're stealing his lunch. Dad, do bears think?"
"Probably. Different from us. They do remember. They have instincts. The brown was far enough away I couldn't tell if they were grizzly but likely. Far away is good. Mothers with cubs are the most dangerous. They only think protection. Like your mother. Speaking of which, your Mom will have the smokehouse ready," said Dad as he drove. "We'll be working fast so our catch doesn't spoil. This is our winter dinner. You, too, Suzy-Q, you carry. How many did you count?"
"I got to ten twice and then I forgot. I was watching the bears. So are we Mom's cubs?" Suzy's frustrated frown wrinkled her nose, then she laughed.
Larry laughed back at her. "No, we're kids. You know, baby goats." But Suzy just looked confused; she didn't get it. She had lived her whole short life in these woods and had never seen a goat.
For the rest of the day Suzy carried one fish at a time from the truck to her dad and then one to her brother at the slab work table. Sometimes she carried a bucket of fillets to her mother in the smokehouse. She watched the rows and rows of wire racks fill up. Some fillets she carried to the porch for brining in salt and brown sugar in a barrel. Those would last for months.
When it was almost too dark to see, they stopped. Mom closed and locked the smokehouse door and called Suzy to help with the fire cave and its stone door. It had a long tunnel to carry the smoke up to the floor of the smokehouse. It was a cool smoky fire of green wood. The smoke was even cooler by the time it rose through the wire racks and leaked out the eaves. That way it didn't cook the meat but preserved it. It was an ancient system. The fire would be left to smolder, go out, and be built anew each morning for eight days, fed with alder wood Larry had already stacked nearby.
Meanwhile Dad drove the truck over to the pigpen. He and Larry had loaded all the fish guts back into the bed along with a few fish Dad wasn't sure were healthy. Together they emptied everything over the fence into the feed trough. The four young pigs squealed and pushed each other as they gobbled their luscious, rich dinner.
"That will make for good bacon," chuckled Dad. "Let's wash our tools and us. Your mother will have supper ready soon." They took turned using the outhouse and then they washed buckets, boots, truck bed and themselves at the flume. Dad had built the wooden waterway to carry part of the smaller Palmer Creek right past the house. It ended near the far side of the clearing and the river water ran off through the irrigation ditches of the ten-acre farm garden and on into the forest. There it watered wild asparagus growing under the trees in the spring. Larry loved to snack on that green treat as he picked but Suzy took her full bark box to the kitchen, wrinkling her nose.
They still smelled of fish when Dad opened the cabin door. Suzy had already set the table. Mom was at the stove. Suzy proudly held up the blue bowl. "Mom made jello to go with salmon steaks and potatoes. I picked the salad greens!" Larry wrinkled his nose at her. He thought they'd had enough salmon for one day.
"Careful you don't drop it now," warned Dad, ruffling her blond-white hair.
Mom came to the table to put down a platter of roast fish. "You were so smart, Honey, to make that wire loop exactly to fit our bowl. The jello set perfectly." Dad grinned and sat down.
CHAPTER 2After dinner wash-up, with water Larry hauled in from the flume, Mom said, "I'll make more jello and use the berries you brought in, Suzy. See, you are helping make tomorrow's dinner." She lifted the boiling kettle from the wood stove, poured into her mixing bowl and let Suzy stir. She held the door open to help Suzy carefully carry the bowl outside. The little girl could barely reach to set it into the heavy wire loop attached to the cool north side of the cabin.
Late that night Mom woke to a strange sound. She couldn't identify it. So she woke Dad. Dad couldn't see anything out the small window. The grinding sounds stopped. There was nothing else so they went back to sleep.
Next morning Suzy went out to check the jello. "Mom," she screamed, "It's gone! The bowl's on the ground and its empty!" She was outraged! Dad went out to look. He showed Suzy the bear-paw print nearby and found the cover to the bowl. He studied the print carefully.
"Looks like a bear likes your jello," said Dad. "He must have got that bowl down and licked it clean. That's the clinking we heard last night." Mom was frowning.
She boiled the bowl.
A few nights later, the whole family woke to terrifying squeals from the pigpen. Dad lit the kerosene lantern and went out to check. He carried his big 30.06 rifle. Two pigs were huddled in the back corner of their little shed. Rails were missing from the fence. Even in the pale lantern light Dad saw claw marks.
Next day, Larry and Dad repaired the fence and reinforced it with slabs from the lumber shed. They searched for the two missing piglets but found nothing but a few drops of blood. They found several paw prints and Dad showed the children how to look for identifying patterns.
That night Dad told his children the story of The Three Little Pigs. "Our pigs were in the house made of sticks. I guess we get to change the wolf to a bear. One pig got eaten by our visitor and I expect one ran away. Who'd a' thought? You know, some people say pig and bear are cousins. They both eat meat and plants and left-overs." Dad shook his head. "But so do humans."
"How can they be cousins?" asked Larry, puzzling it out. "They are both omnivores but their hair is different, their ears are different, their feet are very different. And pigs don't hibernate." He was proud of how much he learned in their little local schoolroom.
CHAPTER 3"I looked up bears in our animal book. Ursus Americanus and Arctos and others, the brown ones. Pigs and bears are both scavengers but can hunt and seem to have similar noses and eyes," mused Mom. "The phylo-something tree of life shows insects and fish and all, as well as mammals. Mammals are such a small part of life on Earth." She looked hard at Larry. "I'm not sure about the mammal family tree but I heard they are, hmm, only maybe very, very distant cousins at best. About like us." Larry beamed.
"Because we have hair and four feet and ears and nose, too?" asked Suzy, listening in fascination.
"We don't have four feet, Silly Suzy," scoffed Larry. But Suzy crawled around and threatened to bite his leg to make her point.
"The county extension agent at Seward might be able to find out for us," suggested Dad. He had gone into the Army and the war instead of college but he knew how to ask questions and find out anything. "Well, less pig to smoke." He got out his pipe.
"If black bears can be brown, and not all browns are grizzlies, how can you tell them apart?" asked Larry.
"The old-timers around here say the way you tell is go kick it in the tail. If YOU go up a tree, it inly al ok for identifying patternsed Larry how to look for identifyings a brown bear. If IT goes up a tree, it is a black bear." Dad's eyes twinkled. "A grizzly can't climb because of it's long claws but it might just take your tree down. Black bears mostly have enough sense to be scared. Grizzlies do eat them."
"Don't you try it!" growled Mom at both her children. "Black bears are smaller, browns bears are bigger. Stay away from all of them." Larry and Suzy both nodded. Larry wanted to ask, bigger or smaller than what, but he was learning when to keep quiet. Suzy was the chatter-squirrel.
Dad huffed. "I expect our kids are smarter than the average bear." He winked at his children.
Mom was worried. "You kids stay near the house or close to one of us. Remember that moose by the garden when you were small!" Both children could tell how serious she was by her eyes. Suzy stuck her thumb into her mouth. Larry remembered the huge moose's head resting in the fork of a tree, staring at them down the long rows of cabbage heads and broccoli. Mom had sounded calm as she told them to walk slowly to the house. That moose got bored and left ... that time.
"I'll make sure both guns are cleaned and loaded, the twenty-five-twenty in the truck and the one behind the door," said Dad. "And my Colt 45 on the hat shelf."
"I'll practice up," Mom scowled at a sock she was darning.
"You're pretty good already, Annie Oakley," grinned Dad to break the worry.
"My father insisted we all learn to be good shots," agreed Mom, smiling. "He likes to shoot most everything that moves. Thinks he's the Great White Hunter. Harrumph. But I haven't done much shooting for several years, not since I went off to art school."
So Mom got out the 30.06 and set up an empty bean can to target. After a week of practice she never missed a can across the clearing. But her shoulder was sore. Recoil, she called it.
"Your mom's a better shot than I am," remarked Dad to Larry. "I need to teach you how to clean the rifles safely. You take care of your weapon so it will take care of you when you need it to." They carried the rifle, a can of oil, a rod, rags and the tool box to the kitchen table. Dad stood the rifle butt down on a rag, bore pointed safely up. "Always check first to be sure there is no bullet in the chamber. Discharge just to make sure. Of course we don't have to worry because this one's already empty. Always check."
He pulled the trigger.
BOOM!
Mom shrieked. Dad jumped. Larry crawled out from under the table after a moment. Suzy's eyes were huge as she stared from the top of the stairs.
Dad looked up at the ceiling and blinked. He carefully did not look at Mom.
"Guess I'll have to go patch it," he said. "After we clean the gun. It is empty now."
CHAPTER 4One night a week later they all awakened to crashing noises outside. Dad lit the lantern and grabbed the gun. Mom put on her glasses and jacket so the children grabbed their coats, too.
"It is not the pigs this time." Dad peered around the big clearing but his light didn't reach far. There was no moonlight and the starlight was dim.
"There," whispered Larry, pointing. A big dark shadow was leaving the chicken house, strolling toward the creek and forest shadows beyond. They waited a few minutes but nothing else moved or made noise.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Bear That Went Bump in the Night by Shereen H. Waterman. Copyright © 2015 Shereen Waterman. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.