Monthly Archives: April 2022

MAMA BEAR and other notes


Mama Bear borrowed from donnaashworth.com

Recently I was called a Mama Bear. I’ll take it. I was in a meeting with a professional, my daughter and son-in-law. At one point, quite unexpectedly and out of character, I flared with outrage and strong, protective language at the way my children were being treated. (I believe it stunned my daughter, but I’m sure I heard my son-in-law cheering in the background of our Zoom call!) I don’t really know how this landed because I needed to excuse myself from the call, but was later teased as their Mama Bear. Again, I’ll take it.

Bears. What do they mean to you? Do you have bears in your life – figuratively or literally? I certainly do. 

The Green Mountain National Forest, and more specifically the Camel’s Hump State Forest, are just outside my door. It is therefore no surprise that black bears, who find this an ideal setting in which to live, breed and raise their young, are my next-door neighbors.  For the most part, they are good neighbors. They have yet to knock on my door, but they have walked within yards of my home. They keep going, though, as there is nothing to tempt them and, if she notices, my chocolate Lab, Sophie, will make quite a fuss.

In fact, it is Sophie about whom I worry the most. Her habit is consistent; her bear-sighting behavior is always the same. First there is that bear barking – it is unique to bear sightings and I know immediately what’s up.  In the car she will turn circles barking all the time and I know to look roadside for a bear.  Off leash, she will dart in the direction of the bear – but run in very large circles around it until it trees.  She will then return to me begging to show me what she has done. No thank you. Let’s walk quietly and steadily home! [Note: I avoid the woods in the spring when the babies are very young and stick to the dirt roads. I also leash her for much of our travels. A bear and dog dispute is not something I want to incite or witness.]

But let me go back to some of what I have learned. First of all, here in Vermont, we have BLACK bears. I first learned this a few years ago. I was hiking a 4000’ trail in New Hampshire on a day when there were very few cars parked on the lot below so allowed Sophie to hike off leash. At one point she ran just ahead of me, around a sharp turn, and I heard a voice shout – “OH (expletive-expletive)! If this is a bear, I’m dead!” (Note, Sophie is effusive in her greetings.) Within seconds several other young male voices laughed and teased the first male and began to play with Sophie. One reminded him that if, in fact, this had been a brown bear, he would be dead.

So, what’s the difference? I learned from my brother that Brown bears come in two sizes – very, very large (the kind you see on videos scooping up salmon; in Alaska they’re Kodiaks) and Grizzlys, considered a subspecies of the Brown bear. I prefer to meet up with neither. We normally associate Brown bears with the western part of the U.S.

Last year there was a video (that went viral) of a Mama Bear in New England doing her best to usher her cubs across two lanes of stopped traffic. It was endearing. However, it is perhaps best that Mama Bear was only frustrated by her young and not by the spectators. Human parents with multiple babies could certainly relate. In fact, for us human parents, the Mama Bear instincts are not only understandable and relatable, but also to be respected.

Which brings me back to my Mama Bear story. In 2000, I found myself unexpectedly single and in Santa Fe with my daughter who had just graduated from high school. It was meant to be a family celebration but became something much different. With my daughter’s help, I connected with the strength that I would need to go forward and recognized that the small, stone bear I purchased had special significance for me and for the years ahead. In Native American tradition, bears symbolize physical strength, leadership and are known as the “first helper.” Bear paws are a symbol representing inner strength. My new little figurine of a Zuni bear signifies The Guardian of the Earth. A heart-line arrow going from head to heart symbolizes a warrior’s heart, strong like the bear’s. If no longer a wife, I would be forever a Mama Bear. Today my bear sits on my desk next to my computer monitor. It has traveled many miles and through many situations since the year 2000.

And then I became fearful of bears. I thought I could avoid hiking trails with signs warning of bears, but they are everywhere. I was not fearful for myself, but for my dog. However, as she matures and as I begin to connect more with Mama Bear, I am more respectful than afraid. Yes, I realize something could trigger a bear’s reaction or there could be a rogue bear out there somewhere, but for the most part, it is best to coexist peacefully and give them space. Oh that we could do that as humans, right?

It is April as I write this. I have learned that cubs are not unlike puppies, born about 8” long and weigh 8-12 ounces. By the time they emerge from their dens they are only 4-8 pounds but are able to follow their mother around. It is no surprise, therefore that Mama Bear is protective. I have also learned that Mama and babies will most likely remain in their habitat above me and away from civilization for a few months yet. Though there is controversy over their habit of hibernation or denning up, it seems that our bears might appear randomly throughout the season if the ‘climate changes’ warm up enough to tempt them outdoors. In fact, during a thaw in February this year, to my great surprise, Sophie treed a young bear (probably 1-2 years old) who had ventured outside his winter home apparently alone.

I return to the Mama Bear identity one last time. Perusing the internet I found one statement in an ad for what was dubbed a Mama Bear fleece, that stated: “tough mamas maximize every day.” I also landed on this: “The real definition: A mama bear is a mama with boundaries. A woman who parents the best way she can, for her child, and a woman who doesn’t apologize for her choices. A mama bear is a woman who asserts herself in any way as a parent. She says ‘no’”.  Mama Bear. I’ll take it.https://abigailgranner.com/2020/11/01/what-mama-bear-really-means/

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Note: I take issue with this survey of black bears in Vermont! The bears in my neighborhood stroll, unconcerned, across patios and along country roads. By later in the summer, when readily available food in the woods is not so readily available, “our” bears have no problem searching dumpsters, around outdoor grills and even through an open door if they happen upon one.  However, I do live in a region where bears find a natural habitat.  https://vtfishandwildlife.com/learn-more/vermont-critters/mammals/black-bear

However, note that a more recent notice mandates bear boxes and other bear prevention practices for hikers on the Long Trail. Bears are proliferating and are savvy. They know that hikers bring food. Hopefully they do not leave food.

https://www.greenmountainclub.org/hiking/wildlife/

This is a fascinating report on bears that you might want to take a few minutes to read:  https://www.nps.gov/yell/learn/nature/denning.htm

OUTDOORS-a very personal perspective

“May you experience each day as a sacred gift woven around the heart of wonder.”     John O’Donohue

OUTDOORS

For three decades my habitat was a studio. Not just any studio, mind you, but two distinctly different and amazing studios. First, there was the studio in Baltimore. I began ballet lessons with the reigning royalty of classical ballet, Carol Lynn, way way back when I was just 4 years old. Miss Lynn’s kingdom was the huge ground level studio in the Peabody Conservatory of Music, Dance Department. Miss Lynn was respected far and wide as a leading expert and to study with her was deemed a privilege. The studio space was from another epoch. Gorgeous, worn wooden floors vibrated with the energy of movement over a century. Three story high windows needed to be raised and lowered with a 20-foot-long pole – or longer, I can’t really remember. Needless to say, the ceiling was waaaaaay up there. Massive mirrors covered one entire wall. A balcony lined another wall for visitors and critics. A graduate student from the Conservatory piano department accompanied classes on the baby grand in the corner. One door led to an open marble hallway and another to dressing rooms that in turn led to a courtyard. It was magical. I left this studio in my early teens to study in NYC where another old and fabulously worn studio became my home.

An old school ballet studio as Edward Degas saw it

I had been accepted as a working student and was mentored by the incomparable Margaret Craske, literally world renowned as a teacher and ballet mistress to the Royal Ballet of England, personal coach to Margot Fonteyn and Rudolph Nureyev when he defected from Russia, and later as teacher and coach to the Metropolitan Opera Ballet and others in the U.S. The old Met studio was definitely a Phantom of the Opera setting! It was even more abused than the studio in Baltimore but reeked of ballet and opera history. Any hour of the day or night, it seemed, there was always something going on from classes to rehearsals to ballet to opera to set design, and so on. Children in the school delighted in appearing in operas that called for them while dancers in the company showed up reluctantly at 10 a.m. for professional class and singers straggled in late afternoon to move clumsily through some type of choreography for whatever opera was being rehearsed at the time. After a rickety ride up an old elevator, we would wind along back halls and climb up to a creaky catwalk along one side of the studio, headed to the dressing room and trying not to make a sound that would inevitably illicit a frown from below.

The “old” Metropolitan Opera House where I had the privilege of performing as a young teen.

My early years of “outdoors” were spent primarily at a stable in the few hours I had outside the Peabody. My other passion was horses, but it had been predetermined that I would become a ballet dancer. My mother had been a singer and had sung at the Met so I was destined to follow, one way or another. Later I walked the streets of NYC as I hurried from residence to studio and back again.

Fast forward. Ultimately I returned to Baltimore where I replaced the retired Miss Lynn and the Peabody studio became my domain. I became a college student at Johns Hopkins University where I also taught and later I transitioned to the gym. When it was time to move on, I did. I trained and taught and made my way through parenting and aerobics, from personal training to Yoga.

Outdoor hours spent at horse shows – here Teague and Ernie compete during Vermont Summer Festival.

Later, in Vermont, I had horses and skiing and soccer and all the wonderful things that we enable here in this beautiful state. But, even though I mucked stalls early in the morning and exercised my horses regularly, I never really did think of it as being, well, the “outdoors.” It was simply where I did what I needed to do.

Sunset at Lookout Point, Maine

Over the years, running, cycling, and oh so much driving, the outdoors always remained simply a place in which my activities occurred.  Fast forward again. For a few summers I had the good fortune to spend a month on the coast of Maine where I watched the sun rise from my deck and crossed to the other side of the peninsula to watch it drop below the horizon across a cove. Sunrise and sunset bookended days that began to embrace the outdoors as more than simply space. Relaxed walks on trails, meanderings along the coast, awakened a sense of pleasure before unknown. And then came Sophie. My amazing chocolate Labrador Retriever did the trick. I traded driven goals for pleasant outings. I left the world of road cycling to hike the steeps of Vermont and New Hampshire, always with my beloved dog. I learned that to breathe in fresh air, to pause to look at tiny snapshots of nature, and to stand in stillness to honor grand vistas, was good for the fitness that I now teach – physical, mental, emotional and spiritual.

sophie

morning coffee in the all-too-short Vermont summer

Today, thanks to my faithful companion, I live in a home of peace, harmony and beauty. There is no questioning – it’s out the door first thing every morning or I will be reminded that someone needs to go into the woods! In the summer I enjoy my coffee on the patio before I begin my work for the day; and in the winter I love to watch the moon rise over the mountains spilling light on snow-blanketed terrain.

Though I continue to teach and write, and though I continue to spend hours each day in physical activity, I now do so with the constant reminder of the outdoors connection. Possibly, it is why we live in Vermont. The outdoors is safe. The outdoors is clean. The outdoors is free.

City dwellers – I know you are both privileged and neglected – been there, done that. With luck you may enjoy “my” outdoors on weekends or vacations. But, as much science is revealing, even opening a window or putting green plants in our homes, can be helpful. I urge us all to consider moving what we can to the outdoors or bring what we can of the outdoors to us. As the world addresses environment, may we all make the available environment a significant component of our habitat – the habitat in which we live and work and play and grow and love.

photo courtesy of Jim Heins