By Lyle Painter
My son, Steve, had an unusually tricky visitor at his home this Halloween.
Steve, who lives in Curtis, said the visitor arrived around 11 p.m.
“I opened my front door to retrieve my dog’s leash, to let her outside in preparation for our bedtime,” Steve told me. “As I opened the door, I immediately saw, standing on my porch step, looking straight into my eyes, was one of the biggest tricksters I had ever seen. The trickster wore a very large bear costume, or so I thought.
“I suddenly realized the trickster was not a big person dressed as a bear: It was a bear!
“As we stood there for a few seconds, looking eye to eye at each other, the bear tried to get inside my house. The bear kicked my now-dented steel front door to accomplish its goal of entering my dwelling.
“Thankfully, I was able to thwart the bear’s illegal entry plans. Without taking time to thoroughly analyze the situation, I did what I would instinctively do if anyone tried to break into my house: I punched the big animal in the head and jowls.
“After I threw my best Mike Tyson punches, the bear suddenly got ‘spooked’, jumped off the step, and ran behind my house and into the woods. Whew. No ‘trick’ and no ‘treat.’”
Soon after this confrontation, Steve phoned me. He was breathless and talking rapidly. I had to ask him to slow down and take a deep breath so I could understand what he was saying. Once his verbiage slowed to a manageable, communication level, I asked if he was trying to tell me he had an encounter with a bear. His reply was a simple “Yes.”
I listened to his amazing story, then I asked him if he had been hurt. He said he had a few scratches on the back of his “punching hand” – either from the bear’s teeth or claws.
The next day, he told me his punching wrist was starting to hurt.
I asked him what it feels like to punch a bear? He said, “Imagine hitting an animal skin attached to a hard wall!”
We have a medical appointment on Monday. “Trick or treat” has now acquired a new relevant, meaningful definition for Steve.
