It has been over a year since I have had the privilege to see a wild black bear, Ursus americanus, in our neighborhood. That last sighting was pretty magical, a mom and two cubs crossing through my headlights near our house in the middle of the night. Two days ago, coming home at dusk, my truck startled a big bear enjoying a drink from a stream about 2 miles from our home. It jumped up the bank, across the road, and gamboled across a big field to hide in the woods. I first saw a wild bear in the Appalachians in 1995. It was the beginning of a new period of wonder in my life and every time I reencounter one of these fellows I am reminded of just how fortunate it is to be.
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