Our formerly feral cats seem very smart. I don’t know whether their innate intelligence helped them survive in the wild, or if surviving in the wild enhanced their intelligence.  I do know neither of them would be stupid enough to leave smelly things exposed in bear country like this brave cat’s humans did:

Click here to view the embedded video.

It took some time after Dodge adopted us before she became comfortable sitting in my lap. She was initially very nervous in front of the television, though she eventually realized my television viewing often created lap opportunities for her.

During her first year with us, I started watching a nature program while petting her.  The nature program was about black bears with some very clear footage of a black bear walking toward the camera. When Dodge noticed the television bear, she stood in my lap and growled. As she continued to watch, she first moved to the chair arm and then to the floor beside the chair.  She alternated focusing on the bear and looking at my face while vocalizing short bursts of alarm to make sure I’d also noticed the bear.

She could not smell the bear, of course, so she was uncertain, but she was clearly familiar with the visual configuration of a black bear.  Was this instinctual? Or had she dealt with bears during her forest life? We’ve speculated that may be what happened to the rest of her litter. (When Dodge first arrived at our house, Dart was her only remaining kitten.)

But whatever the reason, it was obvious Dodge wanted nothing to do with bears.  Even so, she stayed by my side, coaxing, until she convinced me to leave with her. How stupid was I anyway?

At that point in our relationship, Dodge still identified outdoors as the safest haven from any perceived threat, so per her wishes, I let her out onto the deck.  (If you’re thinking she only coaxed me out of the chair so she could get outside  – she also had a cat door she could have used.)

I followed her outside and the first thing she did was walk furtively to the north end of the deck  where she peeked carefully around the corner of the house, so she could see the opposite corner (which the television backs up to). She was apparently checking to see if the bear was still out there. Perhaps her understanding of broadcast vs. live bears was limited, but her accurate spatial orientation between the inside and the outside of the house surprised me. So did her loyalty and courage.

Wild Geese   by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting—
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Then I woke up.

But I know what prompted the dream: yet another hermit researcher found this blog and hoped for an interview with a “contemporary hermit” including a visit to “the hermitage.” I suppose that’s what I get for being a peculiar being.

After the first request, I expanded my About page in hopes of disqualifying me from any further research. But it turns out one big attraction to many current researchers is how the internet has improved the lot of us hermit-types, allowing us access to the world with only a minimal amount of live interaction required. (Which is true for everyone, not just hermits – so, duh?)  But apparently the new About page (which includes a reference to our online business) only exacerbated the researchers’ curiosity, even though I was trying to clarify the fact that although I value solitude, I’M MORE OF A HERMIT WANNABE than a real hermit.

So, theoretically, the internet is creating more hermits per capita. Therefore, my participation shouldn’t be necessary for the research, anyway. Right? But, according to one student, many [smart] hermits who are active online use pseudonyms, and are thus more difficult to track down. I thought about using a pseudonym before I started this blog and probably would have were it not for the admonitions of my blogging coach, Steve Mays. And I’m not really trying to hide – I just prefer not to be found. There is a difference and it’s a difference which I felt (at least initially) justified using my real name.

Generally, these student requests do give Griz and me a good chuckle though. After all, successful hermit research has got to be a bit difficult (if not downright risky) for obvious reasons: notoriety and company are anathema to the motivation and lifestyle of most hermits.  But even though I appreciate the humor of these contacts, my gut reaction still leans toward using the queries as an excuse to delete this blog and retreat from blogging all together.  Anyone who follows this blog  knows I often hang in by a fragile thread.

Actually, I am not opposed to answering students’ questions via e-mail, provided the researcher volunteers some verifiable references about who they are. But requests for a live interview and visit feel a bit presumptive and invasive given any hermit’s preference for privacy and solitude. To quote myself from an earlier post:

“Hermits (like sasquatches) are also unlikely to aggregate in quantifiable numbers near universities, so valid hermit research becomes even more problematic. I have no doubt one could recruit a few rugged grad students to scour the hills for rumors of hermitages. But even if the grad students find the hermits – how happy do you think the hermits will be about it? (See my post on curmudgeonly misanthropes here). I assure you even the happiest hermit can put on an unhappy face in defense of his privacy.)”

Fortunately, Griz and I have a locking gate, a good security system and (WARNING, WARNING) are well-armed and firearm proficient. We aren’t hunters and we’re actually more pacifists than big gun advocates, but we are practical. Calling 911 is one thing, expecting a timely response out here is something else entirely. The fire power is a solitude and self-sufficiency thing.

Maybe I’ll create a FAQs page here to help out the students. I am a big fan of higher education, though admittedly some avenues of “research” (and research grants) leave me metagrobolized.

And until we find a trap baited with a good bottle of riesling, chocolate and a cheese plate – or we notice someone constructing a blind with telephoto lens along the property line, I guess we don’t have too much to worry about.

Seriously – the title of this photo is BeaRRRSS, by Daniel Hernanz. If you are a fan of wildlife (nature) photography or just photography or just wildlife, you should definitely check out Daniel Hernanz’ photostream on Flickr.

Dani is an exceptional talent. He has my greatest admiration and was kind enough to let me use this image.

His work is a far cry from my personal wildlife photos – a unique collection of blurred images and animal rumps disappearing into the bush.

This forest-to-meadow margin area is where we see most bears. They use the meadow northwest of the shop for forage, and as an easy path to water as uphill streams begin to dry at this time of year. My assumption was: by the time I get to the house and back up to the shop (100 yards one-way), the bear will be moving away.

But no, this young bear (350 pounds?) was lingering in the meadow fairly close to the shop. Apparently he’d found the rodents abundant and there are some small patches of clover in bloom there.

I got a few photos, but none of them turned out well – poor light was a factor, but the emotional state of the photographer played a bigger role. This young bear, who was obviously aware of my presence, was not moving away like I expected. He kept an eye on me, and even moved toward me several times.

It’s just so much easier to be cavalier about the bears when they’re moving in the opposite direction. They seem awfully big when they start taking an interest in you. Knowing they can run 30+ mph doesn’t help the nerves. I have the greatest admiration for the good wildlife photographers.

In the light of day, I worry about this young bear’s future. If he has no innate fear of humans, he’ll find trouble sooner or later in this rural-to-suburban transition area. We made sure our garbage cans were well-sealed last night – and turned on the seldom-used little electric fence which surrounds them – don’t want to be responsible for encouraging bear bad habits.

Rhododendron blooms
Swift, vibrant splendor – then GONE!
This year’s reminder.

Most of our rhododendrons are pretty shabby this year as a result of our unusually tough winter. They’ll all need a careful pruning after bloom.

Blossoms on the reds seem particularly short-lived. One rainfall and they’re past prime – and this is Western Washington, after all, so you know what that means. I bemoan their fleeting glory every year – hence, this morning’s haiku. I think the bees prefer the reds, too. They work feverishly – knowing only NOW!

Something that didn’t come out in the news story: the patch of woods where the bear was hanging also serves as a blind for radar traps frequently set up by the Washington State Patrol.  This is one of the few wide-open spaces left on I-5 through Western Washington – the speed limit is still 70 mph, which means many people are pressing 80 mph or more on their way through.  It’s the second highest spot in the state for number of speeding citations issued.

Gotta think the troopers were not happy to be sharing space with this particular youngster. Apparently, the bear was comfortable enough around traffic that it was visible to motorists part of the time, creating a risky distraction and slowing people down.  Woops, there goes those tickets.

But the bear’s lucky he wandered onto the interstate median rather than into a local suburban neighborhood which always seems to cause panic.  On the median, the bear was in more danger than any humans, especially with the cars moving so fast.  And the humans most at risk (the State Troopers) were unlikely to panic – they were all packin‘ and hyper-connected to emergency services.

Photo KOMONews.com

Not a very flattering pose, but you just can’t fold 5’10″ of adult human onto a child-sized plastic sled without looking a little like you’re practicing for your upcoming OB/Gyn exam.  Besides, you should look a bit ridiculous when you’re doing something ridiculous.

I highly recommend doing something ridiculous every so often. It’s very good for the spirit.

“Considerable evidence indicates that climate in the Puget Sound region is cyclical, with maxima (warm, dry periods) and minima (cold, wet periods) occurring at decadal intervals[....] Mantua et al. (1997) and Hare and Mantua (2000) evaluated relationships between interdecadal climate variability and fluctuations in the abundance and distribution of marine biota.”

Maxima?… Minima?…Biota? Can’t decide if these sound more like feminine hygiene products or dance moves. I’ll forgive the author if he speaks English as a second or third language. Just so much easier to say:

Puget Sound climate alternates between warm, dry periods and cold wet periods at about 10-year cycles. The cycles impact the abundance and distribution of marine life.

(Footnotes are always great for crediting the researchers.)

In the mid-1980′s, I worked briefly for a firm which held a large editorial contract for NOAA. The task was to clean-up and translate the written work of a number of federally-funded “principal investigators” who were out roaming the Arctic, assessing the environmental impact of developing natural resources (OIL) on Alaska’s outer continental shelf. The original intention of the editorial project was good – compile the research for public consumption and produce a readable book.

I suppose the sub-text was to demonstrate “whatever we do up there, we looked into it carefully.”

The “Reports from Principal Investigators” arrived in boxes of loose pages, some typed, some handwritten, with labeled photographs and charts and sounding a lot like the first climate paragraph I quoted above.  The  editorial task was daunting.

I actually have a lot of admiration for those scientists (principal investigators) who were out braving the elements to watch polar bears and other Arctic mammals and birds. I have even more admiration for the ones that braved the same elements to watch algae grow. However, I sincerely hope we are now producing generations of better communicators in the scientific community – presuming, of course, generations X and Y can break their acronym/abbreviation addictions.

I’ve been out of academic, environmental and editorial loops for awhile. Please – someone tell me the writing has improved! In the mid-1980′s personal computers weren’t very portable or fast, so back then; we were probably lucky to get what we got. Even now,  I suppose there’s only so much you can do electronically in sub-zero temperatures. But in our culture of rapid written communication – e-mails, text messaging, social networking – surely our connected, young scientists are getting better at using written words effectively. And if not, why not?

I departed the NOAA editorial job before the project was finished. My reasons were more idealistic than practical - based on my insider knowledge that the contracting  firm’s president quadrupled the contract costs because he was going through a divorce and needed the bucks, rather than because it was actually costing more to produce the book. (I admit my idealism was bolstered by the knowledge that Griz had a good job at the time.) But some of my colleagues who hung-in informed me later the ultimate sale-price of the book would have to be $350 per copy to cover the editorial work. (Are taken-for-granted cost overruns still written into Federal contracts? I hope not.) Don’t know if anyone ever read that book. It’s probably in a library somewhere.

I have a best buddy who’s a professor at a large university. She periodically contemplates retiring (until this year). She loves to teach, but her recurring complaint always comes down to “Sometimes I just don’t know if I can read another dissertation.” So maybe it’s too early for the better communicators to have hit grad school. Of course, the eternal trail of pedantic academic-speak may be perpetuated by older academicians. Kind of like the 72-hour hospital shifts medical students endure even though it’s been proven hazardous to students and patients. Another one of those  ”We had to do it, so they have to do it” rites of passage.

But there’s still some good news. With electronic publishing, all that bad writing can be made available to the hard-core researchers without ever producing more than one paper copy. And maybe now,  with all the government cut-backs, we just won’t have dollars available for all those unnecessary words.

I like just about everything Anthony Hopkins does. When I think of this movie, I see Hopkins coursing the jungle with that long white hair. Actually, the primary setting of the movie is the psychiatric section of a maximum security prison where Dr. Powell is incarcerated after killing some gorilla-murderers.

Click here to view the embedded video.

The movie is a psychological thriller a la One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Dr. Theo Caulder (Cuba Gooding, Jr.) is tasked with reaching out to the initially-silent Dr. Powell (Hopkins).  The movie is loosely based on the 1992 environmental sustainability novel Ishmael by Daniel Quinn.  The movie’s sustainability message ebbs more than it flows and Instinct was never a blockbuster; but it’s a good, winter evening’s home entertainment. Great acting is the primary sustainability element of the film.