An Open Letter To Hungry Bears

Dear Bears of the Blue Ridge,

I know you sense the presence of a small child who once booped on the nose one of your taxidermied brethren. (In case you recognize the scent but can’t place the origin of trauma, I’ve provided picture evidence below.)

Anyway, you can probably still smell the disrespectful boy wonder (under all his teenage BO and the faint trace of eau de mustache), but may I encourage you not to eat him while he’s wandering around on your turf this week? He may owe you one for his blatant disregard of ursine manners, but he’s been growing so much lately that he’s all stringy muscle, so I doubt he’d actually taste that good. Truly: I have your best interests at heart.

Also, really, that was twelve years ago. It may be time to let that one go. Trust me, I’m sure someone else has done something else to offend you since that unfortunate moment. Move on. Breathe it on out. Become one with the trees and the mountains and that random squirrel who gets his kicks from throwing acorns at your head.

But for real though: you’re doing a great job populating the Appalachians. You really make those mountains look good. Also, the way you scare passing backpackers? Wow. Not just anyone could do that. I really wanted to make sure you knew that.

So, don’t eat my kid, okay? Because that would really upset me, and when I get upset, the Man…well, let’s just say it isn’t pretty. You don’t want to know what that looks like.

Frankly, the best route: forgive and forget, at least as much as it depends on you. Besides: he was adorable back then. He’s adorable now. I mean, manly and ruggedly handsome. How could you not forgive that face?

Yours in protection mode,

Marian (aka Mom of the Disrespectful Booper)

PS Fine, maybe it wasn’t an actual taxidermied bear. It made it funnier. Sue me.