Wildlife Adventures in Montana

Described herein are two of the most dramatic wildlife experiences we have had as a family, so far.

I mentioned in my come-back post, "Oh, What?" that there had been an incident with a bat in the washing machine. To give some background, we moved to a relatively remote part of Montana in August. About two weeks after we arrived, I was doing some laundry. We had experienced our first real trial of back woods living when our septic system backed up and proceeded to leak black water from the bottom of our toilet. My husband soaked up the water with some towels and once we had the problem fixed I ran a load of wash that included said nasty towels and a rug that had previously sat directly around the toilet. The rug had been thrown over a bucket in the laundry room once we figured out what it had been soaking up, to be washed with the rest of the poo-water-soaked towels when the time came. As one might expect, I washed those suckers on hot for the longest time the washer allowed. Even though the days and nights were plenty hot to hang the washing out to dry, I wanted the added security of a hot dry cycle to kill any possible remaining poo-bugs. As I loaded the drier, I noticed a rather large and soggy piece of lint at the bottom of the washer. I thought to myself, "That's odd, I didn't wash anything that was that dark." As I picked up the lint I noticed that it was particularly felty feeling, not at all like the old rough towels and synthetic rug I had washed. Suddenly the shape and the texture came together in my mind: bat- wet, soggy, bat. I threw the drowned, ragged, lifeless body of the creature on the ground and shuddered heartily. I walked out into the kitchen and said to my husband, "I need you to go in there and tell me whether that's a bat on the ground."

Shocked and utterly confused, he walked in and confirmed what I already knew: I had inadvertently killed a poor bat in really a horrific way, then desecrated its body by throwing it with gusto to the ground. As close as we can figure it, the little fella climbed in the open washer sometime in the night and had gone to sleep. In the morning chill he was not able to register that I was throwing things into the washer and so didn't fly out. The other possibility was that it had gotten into the rug-covered bucket and was hanging from the rug when I picked it up and threw it into the washer. Either way, the poor little guy met a terrible end, for which I will feel
eternally sorry. As my sister said, "Peace be to that poor bat...." In homage, I briefly considered the following Halloween costume for MLO. Props to Pottery Barn for the adorable costume, but man, that kid sells it!


It's Fall, and here in our lovely valley the Birch and Cottonwood leaves are changing, the weather has cooled way down, and the fish have all left our pond for deeper waters. All the wildlife of our region are doing their best to put on some pounds before they bed down for winter. The berry crop was abysmal this year, and the glut of rain in the spring left the grass more tough than nutritious, so the entire food chain is feeling the effects of limited food. With that comes the inevitable attempt by our bigger and bolder predators to take advantage of the easy food supply that accompanies human settlement. Just a few weeks ago we had a 600 lb, 20 year old grizzly bear break into our closest neighbor's garage. Suffice it to say, Hubby and I are a bit on edge. Taking on a hungry animal 5 times your size, and likely willing to settle for eating you, is no small charge.

Tracks from the huge-mongous bear that broke into our neighbor's garage

With the scene set let me explain our latest big adventure with Montana wildlife. Hubby and I were enjoying the last warm fall day forecasted for as far as anyone could tell. I sat, unarmed, in our expansive yard while Hubby unsuccessfully fished our empty pond, which we share with our nearest neighbor. Yes folks, this is the same neighbor whose garage had been ripped into by a gi-normous grizzly bear. As he was fishing he noticed some movement near the neighbor's house and looked up to find a very brown bear standing on its hind legs, both front paws on the window. The hubster began to yell and the bear looked over, then proceeded to ignore him completely. Hubby yelled for me to take the dogs in and get his firearms ready.

My brave, madman of a husband went over to the neighbor and did his darndist to scare off this bear. No charging car, honking horn, or gun-shots seemed to drive the animal away. Only when Hubby fired buck-shot at the ground near its feet did the animal flee. Hubby came back and immediately called the grizzly guy, with whom we had come to be on a first name basis. As he hung up the phone, the hubster looked out the window and exclaimed, "Holy sh*t, the effing bear is in our yard!!" He had crossed the pond and now stood somewhat bemused in our front yard area. Now within 20 feet or so we could see that it was a little black bear, that couldn't have weighed more than 120 lbs. Hubby tried to scare him off with bear spray (the can of which we had not used before and found out in this instance that it was frighteningly sub-par), pots and pans and yelling. To no avail! The beast merely ran up a nearby pine tree bordering the pond. Finally we waited for the bear to move in a direction that would allow us to chase him off, and move he did. He ambled casually to within 10 feet of our window, near which MLO was enjoying a mid-afternoon snack. As I picked up my son he pointed out the window and said happily, "Doggie! Nice, nice doggie. Give pets." That was not the reaction I was looking for, regardless of how adorable this little bear was.  

Hubby was finally able to get close enough (yes, close enough) to spray the bear in the face, which should impart on the bear a healthy fear for people. We found out that this little fella had been orphaned as a cub, raised in captivity, and recently released in our area. The bear was only about a year and a half, and his upbringing explained the alarming disregard he had for people-threats. We learned that a bear does sh*t in the woods (I have footage of it), that black bears can look very, very brown, and that MLO is an unreliable detector of potentially threatening animals in the wild, not to be relied upon when hiking. 

Our little black bear friend in our front yard

The baby who wouldn't kiss

Ever since MLO began to express his personality he has had a way of attracting an entire room's attention and sending the mood of the place into joyful wonder. He's always been beautiful, funny, easy to love and shamelessly flirtatious. However, while other babies his age would hug and kiss and express love in myriad other ways, MLO generally kept his affection to himself. For instance, after he learned to walk he would now and again run over to me, wrap his arms around my legs and say "Hiiiiii Mama." Then, as quickly as he appeared, he would scamper off to wreak havoc on some toy or clean corner of the house. That was it. No kisses, few hugs. As adoring and utterly devoted parents, Hubby and I would shower hugs and kisses and "I love you"s on the child with abandon, so we didn't really understand why MLO didn't seem to reciprocate. To clarify, neither of us doubted that he loved us and that he knew he was loved, we just didn't understand why he didn't express it in ways other kids his age did.   

My favorite example of this is as follows: One morning, when MLO was around 15 months old and had just awakened from his nap, I walked into his room. The picture of happiness, he smiled broadly from above the rails of his crib and exclaimed, "Hiiiii Mama!"  I went over and gave him a big kiss and a squeeze, and as our routine dictated, proceeded to play a game of hide and seek while he remained in bed. We both laughed and smiled and when I went to lift him from the crib I asked for a kiss. "Kiss for mommy?", I said, and leaned my cheek in toward his face. He took his little hands, one on each side of my face, and turned my face around to look him in the eyes. He then turned his cheek to face me, and pulled my face toward his cheek, so that I may kiss him. Yes, my son in effect said, "You may have the profound privilege of kissing me. That's as much affection as your gonna get, lady."

It was some months later that MLO finally started to give hugs and kisses. At first his kisses were fully opened mouth affairs, with plenty of drool. He finally got that he should purse his lips a bit. He still only very rarely volunteers a kiss, though he generously doles out hugs. His favorite times to hug are when he is sitting in his highchair or laying on the changing table. I'm fairly certain he uses the imploring request "Hug!" on the changing table as a distraction mechanism, since he seems to hate having his diaper changed. He has also picked up the habit of saying lovingly, "Ooooh, Mama!" and "Ooooh Dada!" when he finds us particularly funny or sweet. He has even started saying "Silly Dada!" (or Mama) and pronounces "Silly" without the 'l' sound. So yeah, my baby that wouldn't kiss is now the toddler that loves to hug. I'll take it!

Have shoes, will travel.

Milestone alert: MLO is walking. Not just a few steps here and there, but exclusive use of the soles of his feet to move from point A to point B. This happened on March 29th. All of a sudden he decided that he preferred walking over crawling. I realized he had made this decision with one tiny action. I went to open the front door and from across the room he began to crawl toward me, then got up and essentially ran over to me. It wasn't coordinated or fluid, and he fell, but he got back up and walked over. That was it. He didn't really go back to crawling after that. So the next day MLO and I went to downtown San Luis Obispo, and holding my hand, we walked around. Not down the street, but the equivalent of about 2 blocks over a few hours. We moved at his pace, and ended up in a couple of places I hadn't intended to go. We saw goldfish in the pond at Growing Grounds and hippies in the square at the Mission. He made friends with young and old alike. He showed me things I hadn't bothered to notice before, like the bright new fire hose hook-ups on the sides of buildings and tiny hidden walkways behind locked iron gates. It was lovely: making friends with strangers, not feeling rushed, watching my son learn the ropes of sitting on a park bench or walking down a slope. I kept hearing "It goes by so fast. Savor it", and that day I did. I moved with my son, savoring his experience of life and being thankful for a slow day in SLO.