I never actually saw a man-eating bear near the house when I was growing up, nor any other kind of bear for that matter, but I knew they were out there.
My older brothers constantly reminded me in order to prevent me from being gobbled down in one massive bite, thereby saving my life in the process, no doubt.
It was also amazing how they could discern certain sounds which for the life of me I could not hear, probably due to the fact I didn’t possess the trained ears and experience which came from being almost teenagers.
We would be walking home from my grandfather’s just as it was beginning to turn dark, when bingo! Inevitably the sounds of a bobcat purring or of a bear breathing would become obvious to their ears.
“Did you hear that?” Harry would say.
“Did I?” Sammy would reply. “Sounds like a big one too.”
Then, we would start moving faster, eventually sprinting, with me trying to keep up, to the back door of the house.
“Don’t tell me,” my mother would say nonchalantly as we came panting into the kitchen. “Another close encounter, right?”
Apparently, she possessed some of that innate ability also.
Having two older brothers was always helpful, especially when it came to recreational pursuits around the farm, such as swamp skating in winter in order to pass the time.
Since there was no real pond in the immediate vicinity, swamp skating became the next best thing. Invariably, the water would rise in the winter, covering over some of the swamp grass and other flora (or is that fauna) and voila! There was a woodland rink that even Dorothy Hamill would envy!
The best part was following the narrow ice paths through and around clumps of various trees and frozen whichimacallits in a kind of makeshift follow-the-leader game.
Eventually, though even that grows tiring after awhile. It was at that moment one day that Sammy, my next oldest brother, came up with the brilliant idea of inventing a new game: tree sliding.
Now, you have to remember that Harry, being the oldest, was usually in charge of game inventions. At one point that included “borrowing” my grandfather’s 12 gauge shotgun and bracing ourselves up against an oak down in the pasture one by one in order to fire it for the first time. But that is another story.
Anyway, the game, he explained, as we took off our skates and headed for a large clump of pine trees nearby, was simple.
The limbs were covered with snow. There was a good deal of snow on the ground.
Why not climb up a few branches, crawl out on the limbs and simply slide off them, landing in the soft snow?
To demonstrate, Sammy climbed up a few limbs, crawled out, and slid away, landing in a perfect four point position with two feet, butt and head cradled in the deep snow.
We stood in awe. Why hadn’t we thought of this before? This could even be a new Olympic game and would be a lot more entertaining than say pushing a large stone down the ice and trying to get to direct it using a broom (as those infatuated with the sport of curling do).
“I wonder how far you could take this?” said Harry, apparently considering the possible impact of introducing a new sport.
“Wait,” announced Sammy. “There’s more!”
Choosing an appropriately tall pine, he began to make his way up towards the top.
“Okay,” he announced. “Ready?”
Before we were even in position, however, he apparently decided that not only was he not going to wait for a reply, he was also going to try a different route in an attempt to deceive us.
“Yaaaarrrgggghhhh” echoed through the silent wilderness, along with the sounds of branches crackling and breaking, followed by a loud thump near the base of the tree.
Then silence.
“Wow!” responded Harry. “That was great! I never thought about trying that down the inside of the tree. Didn’t that hurt though? Sammy?”
“Mmrrgrph,” Sammy replied, looking at us with glazed eyes, apparently shocked himself at his creative genius.
We decided it might be in the best interests of everyone, however, to head home at that point, helping Sammy to his feet and pointing him in the right direction. It’s funny how a creative genius can become so disoriented at times.
I learned a lot that day, like never let someone fall asleep if you think they have a concussion, keep bright lights out of their eyes, and never try tree sliding on the inside of a pine tree. There might not be snow at the bottom to cushion your fall, and often there are rocks there also, even though you might not see them.
Kind of like bears.
The above is an excerpt from the book Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Sanity… by Dick Martin, a Glocester resident, former Burrillville High School teacher and contributor for NRI NOW.
Martin can be contacted at [email protected].
