I was looking for fall color in fog, not bears, when I let Aki show me the way into the Gold Creek Valley. The cottonwoods provided a little drama, but not enough to encourage a climb further up the valley so we cross the creek and headed west on the Flume Trail. I followed the little dog down a steep trail to Gold Creek and stopped just below a muddy section to wondered whether the bear, whose paw slipped and left five parallel grooves on the dun colored mud felt pleasure or fear. If it was the young black bear we saw on 7th street last Tuesday night, she must have enjoyed the trill. Still wet from crossing Gold Creek, she moved with surprising grace, the kind some rhythmic overweight people reveal when they dance. The bear bounced step by step down the street, stopped at each trash can to make sure they didn’t contain something tasty, then disappeared into a neighbor’s open garage. Such sweetness; such dangerous behavior. Already addicted to garbage and comfortable around people, the little bruin is not long for this world.
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