A good time at the park—bearly ~ July 21,1994

David Heiller

 A mother bear lay at the base of a big red pine tree in St. Croix State Park last Sunday afternoon.

In the top of the tree sat three cubs. They were draped over the branches like little rugs on a clothesline, swaying in a summer breeze.

My daughter and I stopped our bicycles for a look. A hiker had told us about them.

“I’m going to go look at them,” Malika said. My heart was beating fast, but I didn’t say no. I figured she was bluffing. “Don’t get too close,” I said.

Malika got off her bike, and walked five steps into the grass. The bear was about 10 yards away. I was just ready to tell her to stop, when she stopped. Something told her that she was close enough. I was glad of that.

The mother bear flicked her ears at us. Her eyes opened and closed. Flies buzzed around her head. She seemed to be trying to take a nap.

Maybe that’s why she had shooed her kids upstairs. Time to watch a soap opera. As The Bicycle Wheel Turns.

We stood there and watched the mother and cubs. I told Malika how fast bears can run. Faster than a dog, I said. “Faster than. Ida?” Malika asked, speaking of our dog, who is very fast indeed. “Yes,” I said.

Just then the bear reared up on its hind legs so quickly your eyes couldn’t see, it. She let out a beller, and so did I, and so did Malika.

My daughter looked like Roy Rogers jumping onto Trigger. That’s how quickly she moved, hopping onto her bike. We laughed in relief and pedaled away. Then I looked over my shoulder and said, “She’s coming after us!”

I have never seen a nine-year-old pedal as fast as Malika did on her little one speed bike. It took me a minute to catch her. Imagine Wily Coyote trying to catch the Roadrunner. That gave her enough time to smile sheepishly. She knew she’d been tricked, and gave me her “Yeah right, Dad” look. Then I laughed at my joke. It was bearly funny.

It was probably a little dangerous too. Curt Rossow will call again any day now. “First a perch on the hook, Dave, and now you’re harassing bears?” I know the dangers of mother bears and their cubs. Now Malika knows about it too.

As Alexander Pope once wrote: “A little danger is a learning thing. Approach a bear, and down the road you’ll wing.” Or something like that.

We saw other wildlife at the park. A doe with two fawns bounded away as we biked through the woods on the smooth, blacktop trail. Another deer stood quietly eating while we stopped and looked at her.

It was so peaceful, talking quietly, riding beneath the green canopy of leaves. Earlier in the afternoon, we met quite a few other bicyclists. Most of them cleared out by evening. That’s when the park was at its magical best. The evening sun floated over the ferns, and filled the sides of popple trees with columns of yellow light.

How lucky we are to have places like St. Croix State Park, I thought. Or Banning State Park. My wife and I had a half hour to spare last week, before going to our son’s final summer baseball game. Banning was on the way, so we stopped there.

We walked hand in hand down the self-guided trail. The sound of wind in the pine trees mixed with the rush of the Kettle River. The trees made a green arch overhead. It was just what we needed.

It’s too bad we had to squeeze that trip into our schedule. It’s too bad people are so busy.

But it’s good that we have places like Banning or St. Croix, for when we can spare that half hour or half day.

They are places to visit with your friends, or your family. Places where you can marvel at the power of a river, places where you can build a sand castle with a little girl. Places to read the Sunday paper and listen to the Twins, even though they’ll probably lose. It’s not so bad when you’re at a park.

And you never know when you’ll meet a bear.