Satirical and absurd describe most of my posts. Sometimes I write of true events.

As a high schooler, my parents owned a remote lake lot, and I frequently accompanied my dad to do some work there. I once arranged to leave early to get in a run, and he’d pick me up on the way home.

A couple miles in I saw a small animal on the gravel road ahead, running away from me. I caught up and slowed to its pace. Never before had I run in tandem with a skunk.

He ran a lot further than I thought skunks could run before stopping and facing me. He stomped his front feet in warning. I didn’t react, but when he turned and backed up toward me, I backed up, too.

Eventually he ran into the woods—a smarter escape route than sticking to the road.

During my college days I worked summers at a YMCA camp north of Spokane. Running on an old logging road one morning, I rounded a corner and found a coyote and a badger, faced off, about to fight.

They immediately fled. I ran on a short distance and looked back, hoping they’d resume their scuffle. I would’ve enjoyed watching a coyote-badger fight. Apparently I ruined that possibility.

My most perilous encounter occurred during a solitary, 10-mile hike in a remote area of the Colville National forest in northeastern Washington. I was taking a break from running because of a partially torn meniscus.

I awoke an animal sleeping near the trail. I thought it was a moose at first, but as it galloped toward me, I saw it was a bear.

I’ve done a lot of hiking, and I’ve crossed paths with bears several times. In every instance they fled as if I was the dangerous animal. I waved my arms and yelled loudly which didn’t deter him one bit. My torn meniscus didn’t allow evasive action. I gave one last, deep-throated yell and waved my arms in the most aggressive way I could. The bear closed in at a full run.

He skidded to a stop, his snout nearly touching my legs. I could have patted his head. He turned and trotted away.

Though I was concerned and hyper-alert, the bear wasn’t especially hostile—no growling or baring of teeth. I believe he was groggy, and his first reaction was to run at me. When he realized I was a human, he did what black bears normally do.

For more instances of “amazing” wildlife encounters, I describe another in the previous, farcical post, “Camels vs. Humans“.