“A Mother’s Love”
Spring was in the air and the excitement of new beginnings was everywhere.
The glacier lilies were slowly starting to push their way to the surface, the willow and alder bushes were working to produce their new buds and the sun was gathering strength each morning as it climbed the peaks, casting it’s welcome warmth into the dark shadows of the long winter past.
It was there, high on the southern slopes of the great mountain that she, a four year old black bear sow, chose to introduce her new cubs to the world.
She had given birth deep within the confines of her winter’s den, one, a small brown boar and the other, a tiny black female. She had spent the weeks prior to the spring thaws deep inside the dark and musky surroundings of the den, nursing the tiny cubs, holding them against the warmth of her breast, feeling the instinctive bond of love grow with each moment that passed. Every time one of the cubs would stir, struggling to regain its hold on one of her nipples, she would feel something stir inside her, warmth and love for her tiny child, a love only a mother can feel.
Instinct had told her when the time was right for her to leave the den the first time, and, leaving the two now puppy sized cubs alone in the darkness, she broke open the entrance with a strong push, stumbling into the fresh air and warming sunshine. She was hesitant to travel more than a few hundred meters from the den yet her exploration was enough to tell her that there was enough growth amongst the fresh foliage to support her growing hunger.
The winter months had been long, and supporting her own bodily needs and the growth of her two nursing youngsters had depleted her stores of fat and inner proteins. She needed to feed now and the cubs needed the fresh air and sunlight to help them along with the amazing speed at which they grew.
When she returned to the den she could see the tiny tracks of her boar cub at the entrance, knowing he had now tasted the freshness of the outdoors, tasted the freedoms that awaited him and his tiny sister beyond the confines of the den. An excitement stirred within her as she crawled into the den and a desire to show her children their new world began to burn inside her.
As the days grew slowly longer and the sun steadily warmer, the young mother found herself leading her joyous little cubs further and further from the safety of the den, further into the excitement of their new world. She watched carefully over the growing youngsters as she fed in the warmth of the spring, ever watching, feeling protective warmth grow within her as the days passed and the cubs grew, a mother’s love.
The young boar cub was beginning to gain a confidence in his surroundings and was soon testing his mother’s patience with disobedience and solo adventures, one of which found him hanging in an alder tree with no idea of how to get down. His bawling soon brought his mother to the rescue and after several encouraging grunts he released his frantic grip on the suspended limb, tumbling from his perch to the ground below with a thump.
His little sister was much more reluctant to leave the safety of mother’s side, rarely venturing more than a few meters away from her watchful mother. She did however, spend considerable time watching her brother get himself into all sorts of predicaments, almost enjoying, with a little sister’s contempt, when mother would swat him off his feet for becoming too frustrating or getting underfoot and disrupting the task at hand.
The days grew longer, the spring snows subsided and the growth of the fresh clover in the valley bottoms soon drew the young family down from the safety of the high country, down into the depths of the valley, closer to the ugly brown lines carved into the earth, the access roads pushed into the heart of the wilderness by the timber companies.
Rich clover thrived along the edges of the mountain road and its sweet aroma attracted several of the valley’s resident bears, both grizzly and blacks to the lush and tasty feed. The young mother soon found herself feeding on the soft shoots that had sprouted along a shady road way, leading her young family slowly into the depths of an unfamiliar valley, leading them away from the safety and seclusion of the high mountain slopes.
The cubs were resting, nestled underneath the safety of a huge spruce tree and it’s drooping limbs, cuddled together in the warmth of the afternoon shadows while their mother fed quietly and alone along the edge of an aging road way. Suddenly her head came erect, her senses sharpened, a distant and strange rumble in the valley depths had broken the silence, an unfamiliar sound that scared and worried her. She tested the wind with her keen nose, listened to the strange sound as it drew nearer, turning towards the shadows along the creek were she had left the cubs with a fear growing inside her. She hurried towards the cubs when suddenly a horrible burning pain slammed into her side, a cry of pain and anguish burst from her as she thrashed in agony, trying desperately to reach her babies, to protect.
The rifle awakened the cubs with a horrible start and they listened in fear as the awful thunder echoed again through the valley.
The pain stricken moan that escaped their young, loving and protecting mother caused panic in the tiny siblings, and they listened in horror as the echoing thunder was followed by strange and horrific yells a hoops from some strange and evil being.
They waited, trembling in fear, waited for their mother to come to their side, coming to protect them, to save them, to love them. They waited, waited alone until the starvation claimed them both in the dark and ominous shadows of the valley depths.
They waited, waited as dozens of young cubs wait every spring, waiting for their murdered mothers to return, never understanding as they grow weaker and weaker from the starvation and pain that claims their tiny lives.
Ron Arnett
email us at bigwestadventures@gmail.com
