humans, this hasnât worked so well. The bearsâll seek out each new garbage dump, campsite and oil rig. Sniff all around, lap up some antifreeze. Get shot out of fear.â
David and Beryl quickly worked out their bear watches. Only one of them filmed or photographed at a time. The other swiveled about in the small sunroof, steering clear of the lenses, staying watchful. They were constantly pressed up against each other, either back to back or front to back. They moved their legs in unison.
Pressed against him, Beryl felt the way he worked with the camera, the way he braced his legs, shifted his weight, focused, the silent vibration of the camera pressed against both of them. She saw firsthand his ability to predict which direction a bear was going to turn, while she, who was able to see outside of the limiting focus of the lens, wasnât able to guess at all. Once, when he had followed the leisurely, rambling path of a young bear for over twenty minutes without making a mistake, sheâd turned to look at his face and saw his lip lifted in concentration, the sharp whiteness of his teeth gleaming below.
When David saw it was time to retreat, he would cradle her shoulder, push gently down. She responded immediately. During her turn to warn, she pulled gently on his sleeve. They descended smoothly. By the end of the day, she understood that he was probably gay. She had no more problem leaning up against him than she did against her mother.
Each time they left the sunroof, they sank as one creature, winding the top quickly shut after them. They would hear from outside a snuffling above or below, the rasp of hair coarse as a brush against the metal of the van, a thumping against the side. They would wait. Whenever a bear began to approach the front or back windows, Jean-Claude would turn the car on, shift the gears to reverse or forward as needed. He would hold the brake delicately down as they all looked through a thin sheet of glass at the creature padding forward.
The bear would approach slowly, its wide back swaying. About ten feet away it would push upright, its long neck and head rising higher than their van, its belly spread broad and strong. The bear would stand in front of them, sniffing, uncertain, then step closer, holding a single clawed paw out for balance. The van would roar in reverse. They would all laugh nervously while Jean-Claude circled the vehicle around, moving to another spot.
Each time a bear stepped in closer, Beryl imagined it charging forward, Jean-Claude frantically stepping on the gas, the van rocking backward, the bear running faster, the glass breaking, cold air suddenly in the van, blood on Jean-Claude and Butler. Jean-Claude trying to get out of his seat, the bear reaching in â¦
Driving back into town for lunch, Beryl asked David why Jean-Claude allowed the bears to get so close to the van.
âOh,â said David. âItâs the same as safaris in Africa. There the tops of the jeeps are open. I mean right on open, noteven a screen, so everyone can stick their heads and cameras out of the van and lean over the side to take pictures of the lion or cheetah taking a nap five feet away. And I mean literally five feet away. Conceivably any lion could just hop right into that hole, make scrambled eggs of everyone inside and no one could do a thing. But it never happens. The lions arenât quite sure what they want to do. Contrary to popular belief, humans arenât high on their list of edibles. Theyâd rather chomp on an antelope. Theyâre confused by the jeepâs smell and metal exterior. So enough time passes and the lions get used to the jeeps. They get used to cameras, to the smell of mint deodorant, to Kansas accents rolling across the savannah saying, âOh, isnât she pwetty!ââ
Beryl looked over her shoulder at the dump. She could still see a young bear rolled onto her back, staring up at the sky, chewing thoughtfully on a
David and Beryl quickly worked out their bear watches. Only one of them filmed or photographed at a time. The other swiveled about in the small sunroof, steering clear of the lenses, staying watchful. They were constantly pressed up against each other, either back to back or front to back. They moved their legs in unison.
Pressed against him, Beryl felt the way he worked with the camera, the way he braced his legs, shifted his weight, focused, the silent vibration of the camera pressed against both of them. She saw firsthand his ability to predict which direction a bear was going to turn, while she, who was able to see outside of the limiting focus of the lens, wasnât able to guess at all. Once, when he had followed the leisurely, rambling path of a young bear for over twenty minutes without making a mistake, sheâd turned to look at his face and saw his lip lifted in concentration, the sharp whiteness of his teeth gleaming below.
When David saw it was time to retreat, he would cradle her shoulder, push gently down. She responded immediately. During her turn to warn, she pulled gently on his sleeve. They descended smoothly. By the end of the day, she understood that he was probably gay. She had no more problem leaning up against him than she did against her mother.
Each time they left the sunroof, they sank as one creature, winding the top quickly shut after them. They would hear from outside a snuffling above or below, the rasp of hair coarse as a brush against the metal of the van, a thumping against the side. They would wait. Whenever a bear began to approach the front or back windows, Jean-Claude would turn the car on, shift the gears to reverse or forward as needed. He would hold the brake delicately down as they all looked through a thin sheet of glass at the creature padding forward.
The bear would approach slowly, its wide back swaying. About ten feet away it would push upright, its long neck and head rising higher than their van, its belly spread broad and strong. The bear would stand in front of them, sniffing, uncertain, then step closer, holding a single clawed paw out for balance. The van would roar in reverse. They would all laugh nervously while Jean-Claude circled the vehicle around, moving to another spot.
Each time a bear stepped in closer, Beryl imagined it charging forward, Jean-Claude frantically stepping on the gas, the van rocking backward, the bear running faster, the glass breaking, cold air suddenly in the van, blood on Jean-Claude and Butler. Jean-Claude trying to get out of his seat, the bear reaching in â¦
Driving back into town for lunch, Beryl asked David why Jean-Claude allowed the bears to get so close to the van.
âOh,â said David. âItâs the same as safaris in Africa. There the tops of the jeeps are open. I mean right on open, noteven a screen, so everyone can stick their heads and cameras out of the van and lean over the side to take pictures of the lion or cheetah taking a nap five feet away. And I mean literally five feet away. Conceivably any lion could just hop right into that hole, make scrambled eggs of everyone inside and no one could do a thing. But it never happens. The lions arenât quite sure what they want to do. Contrary to popular belief, humans arenât high on their list of edibles. Theyâd rather chomp on an antelope. Theyâre confused by the jeepâs smell and metal exterior. So enough time passes and the lions get used to the jeeps. They get used to cameras, to the smell of mint deodorant, to Kansas accents rolling across the savannah saying, âOh, isnât she pwetty!ââ
Beryl looked over her shoulder at the dump. She could still see a young bear rolled onto her back, staring up at the sky, chewing thoughtfully on a
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