Not really scary....
In college I was both skinny and swift. One summer I worked at an education/research station on Cranberry Lake in the Adirondacks, only way in or out was by boat across the lake.
Every evening it was my habit to go for a run up a trail along a stream. This was in the late seventies and I forget now how far it was, some distance in miles, maybe a six or ten mile round trip. I would love to be able to run anywhere, let alone through the woods like that now (think "Last of the Mohicans").
On a steep part where the stream was rushing and loud the trail ran between the stream and this large boulder. I came around the boulder and.... a big friggin' male black bear, right there. I coulda reached out and touched it.
First image I had as I skidded to a stop was the big head swinging down and around as it turned to run away. It ran about thirty yards and then stopped to look back. I called out "Hello bear!" to let it know what I was and it beat feet over a ridge, "wuffing" and spraying a shower of leaves with every bound.
Geeze, I actually continued the run, and did so every evening thereafter, but after that always made a point to holler out periodically to give notice I was coming.
That same summer I used to sleep out on the boat dock, and would peer out from the blankets in the misty mornings to see tree swallows sitting on the dock just feet away. That was the summer the Northern Lights put on a spectacular pale green show across most of the sky one July night (only time I've ever seen 'em), to the accompaniment of calling loons on that lake.
Looking back to that night, and all the many other good things that would befall that guy on the dock between that time and this, I have indeed been blessed
Birdwatcher
