So there I was, 25+ years ago, venturing from our mountain campsite with my buddy and fellow Boy Sprout. 'Twas a beautiful sight too: majestic, aromatic trees, sunlight fading over the mountain crests, wind tickling the top of the crater made mountain lake....and the ever so distinctive cry of a baby bear for it's mother. Wow, we thought, a real wildlife encounter!
Perhaps we could collect the cub, take it back to camp, raise it as our own and star in the remake of Grizzly Adams? Those dreamy thoughts were of course interrupted by another, more distinctive and shall we say, robust sound: that of Mama Bear replying to Baby Bear.
It took our adolescent brains only a moment to figure out that the stereo sound we thought we were hearing was actually in stereo because Mama was on one side of us and Baby was on the other side. We were fast becoming a Bear Sandwich, and it shouldn't take Marlon Perkins to tell you that this was not a good thing.
I initially thought and said to my buddy that it would be better to stay calm and slowly back away while begging forgiveness from Mama Bear (did I mention she was as big as a Subaru?). While I was trying to take the diplomatic approach, I noticed that my comrade decided that running was better than having a front row seat to his own mountain mauling. He had 25 yards on me and now Mama only had me on her dinner menu. The chase was on.
I hauled ass. And I didn't need steroid's to win a gold medal that day, letmetellya.
And there I learned another instance of the power of motivation: Mama Bear was more motivated to check on Baby Bear than to use us as mid winter rations and only growled and chased us long enough to insure our rapid (and permanent) departure.
Question: Are Human Mama's motivated the same way?
Answer: Does a bear get poop stuck to their fur?