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
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