It is the time of year when apples begin to ripen and bears come down for the harvest. Notices appear in the paper reminding us to pick up our fallen apples, nothing attracts a bear like the sweet smell of a fermenting apple. Wildlife officers, otherwise known as the apple patrol, leave stern notes on your door if they spot an apple strewn yard.
We checked our trees before leaving on the boat for five days. Nothing ready to pick. Our first night we stern tied about 20ft from shore. At dusk we observed this young bear calmly picking berries directly behind us.
We returned home to find,
shock and horror,
the Cox's Orange Pippin picked clean.
I was hopping mad.
We could tell they had gone into the other part of the orchard (poop) but hadn't taken anything. Bears will wait until the apples are ripe, coming back to check until they are to their liking. I think they knew I was guarding the COPs and took their chance because they certainly weren't ripe. Maybe they got a stomach ache. Only my kind heart hopes not as my husband saw a momma bear and her baby come out of a neighbour's property later the same night. I wouldn't want the baby to suffer because of his momma's greed. Or maybe she was teaching him a, "this is what will happen to you if you eat sour apples", lesson.
Note for my dear friend PC. We are fine, we are not going to get eaten. Well, I hope not. PC has been incredibly supportive, not like the "you must be mad" group. She knows I need to be here. I try not to make her anxious but I may have failed this time.