Humorous, Adorable And Fun Findings In My Treasure Box: August 2025

“The Bristle Pact”

“The Bristle Pact” By Bear (with a little help from a wise porcupine)

In the heart of the Forest Fellowship, Bear was known for his big hugs, booming laugh, and complete disregard for personal space. He loved everyone—squirrels, skunks, even the moody badger—and assumed they all loved him back. But one creature remained mysteriously unhuggable: Porcupine. Every time Bear tried to greet him with a pawful of affection, he ended up with a pawful of splinters. “You’re like a walking cactus with attitude!” Bear grumbled, nursing his latest poke.

Porcupine, perched calmly on a log, replied without blinking, “And you’re like a fuzzy avalanche with boundary issues.” The forest fell silent. Even Owl raised an eyebrow. Bear blinked. “Boundary issues?” he repeated, as if the phrase had wandered in from another ecosystem. Porcupine nodded. “God gave me quills for a reason. Not to push others away, but to remind them that closeness isn’t the same as connection.”

Bear spent the day sulking under a berry bush, pondering Porcupine’s words. He thought about how he’d barged into nests, interrupted naps, and assumed his hugs were healing when sometimes they were just... intrusive. That night, he prayed beneath the stars: “Lord, help me love like You do—with wisdom, not just warmth.” The next morning, Bear approached Porcupine with a gentle nod and a paw raised—not for a hug, but for a respectful wave.

Porcupine smiled. “Look at that. Growth without splinters.” From that day on, Bear became the forest’s ambassador of respectful affection. He still gave hugs—but only with permission. And Porcupine? He became Bear’s closest friend, proving that even the prickly ones have purpose. Together, they taught the forest that boundaries aren’t barriers—they’re bridges built with trust, space, and a little comic relief.

Susan Barker Nikitenko August 27th, 2025©

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🐻 “I Am Fearfully and Wonderfully Made” — A Bear’s Reflection

🐻 “I Am Fearfully and Wonderfully Made” — A Bear’s Reflection

Now listen, friend—have you ever really looked at a bear? I mean, really looked? I’m a walking marvel, stitched together by the Almighty with paws that can crush logs and yet cradle a newborn cub. My nose? It’s a miracle sniffer. I can smell berries ripening from half a mile away, and I once tracked a honey trail so long it felt like a pilgrimage. My brain? Sharp as a pine needle. I remember every berry patch, every fishy bend in the brook, and every two-legger who’s ever tried to take a selfie with me. (Spoiler: bad idea.)

I’ve got strength, speed, and a coat that shrugs off rain like it’s nothing. And don’t get me started on my hibernation skills—six months of sleep without an alarm clock? That’s divine engineering.

Sometimes I sit by the brook and think, “Wow, Lord. You really outdid Yourself.” And then I catch a fish mid-leap and think it again.

“I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvelous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.” — Psalm 139:14

Susan Barker Nikitenko August 15th, 2025© PMNMRMPBKBANNABENGNMPMBCObbb&6543

Through the Eyes—and Snout—of a Bear

Well now, let me tell ya 'bout my neck of the woods. I'm nestled deep in the forest, where the air’s thick with pine and damp earth—like nature’s cologne, if you’re into that sort of thing. The moss beneath my paws is cool and springy, like walking on grandma’s couch cushions (don’t ask how I know that). And the trees? Tall guardians that sway and whisper like ancient storytellers, always gossiping about squirrels and the weather.

Sunlight sneaks through the canopy in golden stripes, painting the forest floor in patches of warmth. I like to stretch out in those sunny spots and pretend I’m a cinnamon roll baking to perfection. Sometimes a squirrel will drop a pinecone on my belly just to see if I flinch. I don’t. I’m a professional.

There’s a brook nearby, babbling like it’s got secrets to spill. I sit beside it often, scooping up fish when they zig instead of zag. One time, a trout slapped me right in the snout and swam off laughing. I respect that kind of sass. The wind carries scents from miles off—berries ripening, elk wandering, even the odd two-legger huffing through the trail in those squeaky boots. I once followed one just to see where he was going. Turns out he was lost. I gave him a helpful growl and he found his way real quick.

Birdsong fills the morning, and the owls keep watch at night. It’s quiet, mostly. But it’s the kind of quiet that’s alive, y’know? Everything has a rhythm—the rustle, the hum, the crunch of leaves under paw. My den’s carved into a hill, snug and dry, lined with leaves, fur, and one very confused raccoon who refuses to leave. Best place in the world to dream about honey and salmon. Or sometimes, just dream about floating on a log down the river wearing sunglasses and sipping birch sap. Don’t judge. A bear’s gotta have goal.

Sometimes, when I’m stretched out in my den, belly full of berries and dreams full of salmon, I get to thinkin’. Not just about snacks and naps—but about how wonderfully I’m made. I mean, paws that can dig, climb, and cradle? A nose that sniffs out supper from a mile away? A brain that remembers every trail, every scent, and every raccoon roommate who overstays his welcome? That’s no accident. That’s divine craftsmanship. The Lord didn’t just make me big and fuzzy—He made me clever, curious, and perfectly suited for this patch of paradise.

“I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.” — Psalm 139:14 ,

Susan Barker Nikitenko August 15th, 2025© PMPBKBANNABENNATRICMGNMBMPMOCO0909097

🍓 Bear’s Summer Delight: A Morning Berry Feast

🍓 Bear’s Summer Delight:

A Morning Berry Feast

“Sun’s barely stretching over the horizon, but I’m already up. The forest’s breathing warm now—thick with scent and song. My fur’s slick from the morning mist, and the light picks up its golden tips as I saunter through dew-soaked underbrush.

Under my paws? Cushioned moss and soil, sprinkled with the tiniest blue blossoms. A slope nearby is dressed in dandelions and black-eyed Susans, waving like old friends. Butterflies dance lazy circles in the air. The hills wear green like royalty, velvet and vast, stitched with wildflower seams.

I sniff the wind—ah, there it is. The sweet pulse of berries. Raspberries tangled in thorny brambles, sun-warmed and bursting. I nudge in gently, careful not to get jabbed, and pluck a few with a flick of tongue. They pop like joy in my mouth—juicy, tart, wild. Further in, blackberries hang heavy, their sugar whispering of long days and buzzing bees.

The bees are everywhere—busy, golden workers humming over clover and bergamot. I let them be; we share this feast in peace. Down the hill, there’s a patch of milkweed and Queen Anne’s lace where fawns sometimes peek out at me, curious and quiet.

I roll in the tall grasses, brushing against goldenrod and yarrow. My body’s strong, broad and softened by the lazy rhythm of summer. Each breath tastes like sunshine and roots. I rest in the shade of an ancient maple, its leaves flickering stories above me, belly full and soul content.

This place? It’s not just where I live—it’s who I am. Wild. Blooming. Home.”

Genesis 8:22 (KJV) “While the earth remaineth, seedtime and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease.”

This verse reflects the rhythm of creation that the bear experiences—the sweetness of berries, the warmth of the sun, and the faithful cycle of seasons that brings life and provision.

Bear’s Autumn Tale

Bear’s Autumn Tale

Chasing Scents Through a Golden World

“Fall's rolled in like an old friend wrapped in a spicy breeze, and the forest’s dressed in its finest. My coat’s thick now—rich, brown, and warm, catching bursts of leaf-fire as I lumber along. Bits of maple and oak leaves cling to my fur, like nature's confetti saying, You made it through the summer, big fella.

The air snaps crisp against my snout. Scents are everywhere—apple, damp bark, mushrooms huddled in clusters, and something deep and woodsy that calls me higher into the hills. I walk slow at first, through blankets of rust-colored leaves, kicking up a crunch with every step. It’s music to my paws.

Goldenrod’s fading now, but asters still bloom, like stars sprinkled across the meadow. I find a patch of late-season berries, deep purple and sweet like honey. I eat with gusto—every bite a memory of warmer days, every mouthful a fuel for the colder ones ahead. A squirrel scolds me from a high branch, tail flicking, eyes bold. I grunt and move on, not in the mood for gossip.

I climb a ridge covered in tall grass, tipped with seed heads that sway like white doves in the wind. From the top, I see a mosaic of color—amber hills, red valleys, and the silver thread of a creek winding through it all like a soft lullaby.

I pause. My breath is visible, my muscles strong beneath this fur of seasons. The world is winding down, but it feels more alive than ever. A fox streaks past. Leaves tumble. The sun begins to rest.

And me? I chase one more scent before twilight settles. It leads to a clearing where the ground is warm, the wind is kind, and the stars are just beginning to wake.”

A bear heaven that's for sure if I do say so myself.

Psalm 104:24 (KJV) “O Lord, how manifold are thy works! in wisdom hast thou made them all: the earth is full of thy riches.”

This verse echoes the bear’s awe as he roams through the golden hills, savoring berries and scents, and witnessing the abundance of the forest.

Humorous, Adorable And Fun Findings In My Treasure Box

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