crazy about bears
My mother recently bought three old houses full of mice, mold, and "potential" right on The Big Thompson River. Last week she took me to meet her across-the-river neighbors (we'll call them Sally and Tom Kodiak to protect the guilty) who many years ago took on a similar project by buying their small, flood-damaged home and turning it into a little sanctuary. Just before we left Sally called with an urgent message, "The bears are here! Come quick." My mother had mentioned to me that these were the people who feed the bears. But neither she nor I had any concept of what we were about to see.
The home is nearly as charming as its occupants: an older couple as eccentric as they come. These are the type of people who come out to greet you and touch you more than the typical stranger: a hand on the shoulder or elbow to say hello and an arm around the back as you walk in the door. The second you walk into the house you are overwhelmed with artifacts from the Kodiaks' lives. The first, and one of the more beautiful, was the piano: a rectangular instrument dating back to the Civil War with small yellowing keys and huge ornate legs. Being a history dork, I was hooked.
The house is full. With only 1000 square feet of space you would be shocked at the amount of "things" the Kodiaks have inside. Each item endears you more to the couple who loving pieced together this masterpiece of a home. Almost every inch of the walls are covered with frames because Sally is "crazy about framing things." She is also "crazy about the river" and "just crazy about rocks". Not just any rocks but the geodite rocks that you crack open to find gems that "look like sugar coated licorice."
Turns out Sally is also crazy about bears. Before I had enough time to really check out all the amazing items on the walls, floors, and shelving, we were rushed out to the back window to see the bear. As I walked to the window I was expecting to maybe see a bear in the distance or in a tree if we saw a bear at all. My parents and I lined up in front of the large back window and gasped in unison as they flicked on the back porch light. There, a mere 3 or 4 feet outside the house was a wild bear about the size of a shetland pony.
The Kodiaks apparantly have a routine of laying out three large piles of dog food to feed to the bears who make nightly visits to their backyard. Previously, I had only seen bears at the zoo and the taxidermy museum. Here, I found myself feet away from "Brownie", a bear covered in fuzzy matted brown fur with a thin face and black eyes. Before I can rip my eyes from the wild bear, I am distracted by the door opening and sweet Sally, who is, as we know, "just crazy about bears" throwing out an entire loaf of bread, a few slices at a time. She must have thrown out three entire loaves to Brownie before she mentioned that he would be leaving soon because "momma and baby" would be coming. Then it clicked in my head: three piles of food, three bears.
After several minutes of enthrallment over the bears, I went back to my careful inspection of the house. I perused the framed treasures on the wall one by one. A picture of Sally and Tom in Madrid. A magnificent chalk drawing of an Indian chief in full headdress. A set of doctor kit tools from the 1700s bought at a flea market, found in an Indian dwelling, and originating from the Hudson Bay Company: one of the first groups sent from england to trade with the Indians.
Hidden amongst the plethora of wall hangings was one artifact that truly amazed me. It was the framed original discharge certificate of Tom's great great grandfather from the Union Army during the Civil War. The fading ink and hand-colored pictures were like nothing I had seen so close. I was enchanted.
Moving on you could find anything on the wall, from a personally signed letter from General Eisenhower to Tom's mother near the end of World War II to Terry's old railroad stopwatch from his years working on the Santa Fe Railroad as a fireman. After the tour we settled down in the living room at the foot of their warm smoldering fireplace to wait for momma and baby bear to arrive.
Every few minutes Sally would walk up to the window and flick on the porch light, peek out the window, then say, "Crummy Buttons!" when they failed to appear. Eventually we forgot about checking for the bears and got wrapped up in conversation. We talked about their home, their history and their many travels. Sally teared up as she talked about visiting Ephesus, Turkey where Jesus and the Apostles once walked.
Just before getting ready to leave we checked one last time for the other bears and this time they were there, momma and baby, just chomping away at the remaining dog food. After a few minutes the baby bear walked all the way up to the house and stood up, placing its large front paw on the window pane, now only inches from us with its protective mother standing a foot or two behind. Frightened and amazed, we neared the window and touched the place where the bear's warm claw was fogging the glass, as if in a gesture of good will from one species to another.
The shutting of our car doors was like waking up from a dream of sorts. A dream of wild bears as mild as dogs, expensive framed collections next to fishing trip pictures on the wall, dangling vines and bear-clawed pumpkins. We sat in the car for a few seconds just waking up before we turned on the car and drove back across the river.
The home is nearly as charming as its occupants: an older couple as eccentric as they come. These are the type of people who come out to greet you and touch you more than the typical stranger: a hand on the shoulder or elbow to say hello and an arm around the back as you walk in the door. The second you walk into the house you are overwhelmed with artifacts from the Kodiaks' lives. The first, and one of the more beautiful, was the piano: a rectangular instrument dating back to the Civil War with small yellowing keys and huge ornate legs. Being a history dork, I was hooked.
The house is full. With only 1000 square feet of space you would be shocked at the amount of "things" the Kodiaks have inside. Each item endears you more to the couple who loving pieced together this masterpiece of a home. Almost every inch of the walls are covered with frames because Sally is "crazy about framing things." She is also "crazy about the river" and "just crazy about rocks". Not just any rocks but the geodite rocks that you crack open to find gems that "look like sugar coated licorice."
Turns out Sally is also crazy about bears. Before I had enough time to really check out all the amazing items on the walls, floors, and shelving, we were rushed out to the back window to see the bear. As I walked to the window I was expecting to maybe see a bear in the distance or in a tree if we saw a bear at all. My parents and I lined up in front of the large back window and gasped in unison as they flicked on the back porch light. There, a mere 3 or 4 feet outside the house was a wild bear about the size of a shetland pony.
The Kodiaks apparantly have a routine of laying out three large piles of dog food to feed to the bears who make nightly visits to their backyard. Previously, I had only seen bears at the zoo and the taxidermy museum. Here, I found myself feet away from "Brownie", a bear covered in fuzzy matted brown fur with a thin face and black eyes. Before I can rip my eyes from the wild bear, I am distracted by the door opening and sweet Sally, who is, as we know, "just crazy about bears" throwing out an entire loaf of bread, a few slices at a time. She must have thrown out three entire loaves to Brownie before she mentioned that he would be leaving soon because "momma and baby" would be coming. Then it clicked in my head: three piles of food, three bears.
After several minutes of enthrallment over the bears, I went back to my careful inspection of the house. I perused the framed treasures on the wall one by one. A picture of Sally and Tom in Madrid. A magnificent chalk drawing of an Indian chief in full headdress. A set of doctor kit tools from the 1700s bought at a flea market, found in an Indian dwelling, and originating from the Hudson Bay Company: one of the first groups sent from england to trade with the Indians.
Hidden amongst the plethora of wall hangings was one artifact that truly amazed me. It was the framed original discharge certificate of Tom's great great grandfather from the Union Army during the Civil War. The fading ink and hand-colored pictures were like nothing I had seen so close. I was enchanted.
Moving on you could find anything on the wall, from a personally signed letter from General Eisenhower to Tom's mother near the end of World War II to Terry's old railroad stopwatch from his years working on the Santa Fe Railroad as a fireman. After the tour we settled down in the living room at the foot of their warm smoldering fireplace to wait for momma and baby bear to arrive.
Every few minutes Sally would walk up to the window and flick on the porch light, peek out the window, then say, "Crummy Buttons!" when they failed to appear. Eventually we forgot about checking for the bears and got wrapped up in conversation. We talked about their home, their history and their many travels. Sally teared up as she talked about visiting Ephesus, Turkey where Jesus and the Apostles once walked.
Just before getting ready to leave we checked one last time for the other bears and this time they were there, momma and baby, just chomping away at the remaining dog food. After a few minutes the baby bear walked all the way up to the house and stood up, placing its large front paw on the window pane, now only inches from us with its protective mother standing a foot or two behind. Frightened and amazed, we neared the window and touched the place where the bear's warm claw was fogging the glass, as if in a gesture of good will from one species to another.
The shutting of our car doors was like waking up from a dream of sorts. A dream of wild bears as mild as dogs, expensive framed collections next to fishing trip pictures on the wall, dangling vines and bear-clawed pumpkins. We sat in the car for a few seconds just waking up before we turned on the car and drove back across the river.
Comments
Those people sound DELIGHTFUL. They also sound like a match made in heaven for your delightful mother. She is going to love being neighbors with them!
Joetta