Bruiser

image from wildlifeanimals.blogspot.com

Bruiser

“Regardless, I am still passionate about 

grizzly bears.”---Timothy Treadwell.

It’s November, and my den is hollowed out. I

just feasted on four fat turkeys--ha--a few less

for man’s table. I pick my teeth with four inch

claws. My jaws are so strong I once bit through

a cast iron frying pan to get all the bacon grease.

I mated twice in August, and I’m ready for the

big nap.

They call me Bruiser--which appeals to me a 

hell of lot more than Ursus Horribilis. There are

only a couple of a dozen of us here in the North

Cascades. I range a couple hundred miles, 

sometimes checking out the foothills of the Rockies.

I was raised in the Yukon, but over the last decade

I’ve worked my way down here. I once spent a

year in Montana, but it was just too damn crowded;

hundreds of bears competing for sex and food.

I’m about 30, old for a Grizz--most of us check out

before we’re 25. I think it’s because some of them 

choose not to hibernate; stupid kids--afraid they’re

going to miss something. I’m left alone, which is how

I like it. I’m 9 feet tall, and weigh 880 pounds. I had 

a tussle with a rogue Sasquatch last year. He was 

about 8’ tall, and weighed in at a skinny 425. He was

pretty nimble, but they’re not good fighters; small jaws

and teeth, with no claws. I had to stand erect to battle

him. He gave up after I tore one of his arms off; made

a nice lunch.

I’m expecting a big blizzard this week, so I’m eating

everything that moves, from ants to coyotes. I tend to

hibernate for 5 months. At my age, I enjoy the rest--

but I’ll tell you what, when I emerge in April, I am

both cranky and real hungry.

In Spring the grizzly’s

roar causes critters to hide, cuz

they will devour all.    

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub