Visitors In The Garden. June 4, 2012Posted by littlebangtheory in Art and Nature, Love and Death.
Tags: bears, black bears, Elliot, garden, naked guy, naked lunch, sausage, the wrong lens
So, picture this:
It’s morning, and I’m trying to soldier through getting a pot of coffee going. I fill the drip machine, grind the beans, hit the button and set to doing the few dishes left from last night. I’m generally good about not going to bed with anything in the sink, but sometimes I get lazy.
So the coffee is brewing and I’m swabbing at a bowl, praying for the hot water to kick in – it takes forever for the Sacred Elixer to get to this particular faucet. I’m butt-naked, except for a knitted hat and down booties… hey, it’s cold in here, we’re out of oil and the wood stove is down for the season…
OK, maybe you should stop “picturing” right about here. We don’t want any accidents in the home, and we know they’re epidemic.
So anyway, I’m spacing out and gazing out at the western yard when suddenly my attention is drawn to a pair of giant black canon balls wobbling through our lily patch, rolling lazily around the asparagus and emerging at the edge of our garden as… BEARS!! Two big bears, hip-high to me, though one’s slightly larger than the other.
I snap to attention (HEY! I told you that you could stop “picturing” now!) Two bears, siblings I assume, walking side by each, walking right into my garden. My Garden!!!
I briefly consider running out the back shop door to yell at them and scare them away, then realize that they might see Naked-Sausage-Waving-Thing differently, and I recalibrate.
So, being me, I grab my camera, then gasp in despair – I’ve still got Elliot on the box from yesterday, a wide-angle lens at 24mm, totally wrong for zooming in on this scene.
Oh well. If one doesn’t anticipate the shot, one doesn’t get the shot, except when dumb luck intervenes.
And being a believer in Dumb Luck (and lacking options,) I started snapping away through the streaked kitchen window.
Now Elliot is sweet, I love him. He’s my main photographic squeeze, separating my art from most of the rest of what I see being produced locally.
But a wildlife lens he ain’t. Forget the zoom to move in on skittish beasts, never mind the image stabilization, don’t even ask for auto-focus – it ain’t happening.
So what you see here is a crop from the least bad of half a dozen shots I took, scanning a big wide field, manually focusing on a tiny bit of it, and squeezing off a 1/8 second shot without image stabilization:
Bruno and Ursa confer as to whether they should grub around in this little thing I call a garden or just move along.
In the end, they snuffled at the compost, munched my biggest sunflower (it was a foot tall, and I bet it was great!) and bumbled around, plowing their snouts through the wet grass in search of only they knew what, and disappeared around the corner of the house. I went to far side, camera in hand, waiting for them to emerge, but they didn’t. Probably headed up into the woods.
So there it is, my Close Encounters of the Furred Kind moment.
At least I had the good sense not to offer them sausage.