She was out behind the house, wearing rubber kitchen gloves and balancing on one crutch while she did her best to clean up the garbage that was strewn around the garbage cans. “What happened?” I said. “I’m hoping it was raccoons. But I’m afraid it might have been a bear.” “A bear? What makes you say that? Did you see it?” “I didn’t even hear it. Did you?” I shook my head. “But I did hear the radio first thing this morning, Robyn. A woman was walking in the woods behind her cottage before dark. She ran into a bear. She did all the right things. At first she backed away and watched the bear, hoping that it would leave. But the bear kept coming toward her. It said on the news that at one point the bear was less than six feet away from her.” “What did she do?” “She did what they tell you to do when a bear approaches.” “Which is?” “For the kind of bears around here, you’re supposed to stop and face the bear. Do not run. Then you wave your arms to make yourself look bigger and make noise—you know, be aggressive and try to get the bear to leave.”
