Since Yukon is away fishing this weekend (that is another story entirely, one which I can assure you will be published as soon as I can tell the story with a straight face), I endeavored to mow the lawn on one of the few non-rainy days this summer.
Yukon had trimmed the yard last weekend, and did a good job getting around the trees, shrubs, and flower beds. So when I came outside with the lawn mower and saw the caribou antlers in the front yard all askew, I assumed he had forgotten to replace them to their original location when trimming. So I went to put them back where they usually reside atop an old cottonwood stump.
It was then I noticed the gnaw marks and coarse, black hair on some of the top prongs. I looked closer and saw chips from the top scattered on the ground, not 10 feet from my front deck. Ruh-ro, Scooby. We have had company of the bruin kind. Again.
Two years ago, when we had an equally crappy summer (I can say crappy, this is my blog) the neighborhood had trouble with bears. Even though fish were plentiful, berries and such were not because to ripen, we need sun. And that was/is in short supply. So they went in search of other suitable nutrients. The little black bear that eventually was seen by us had chawed into my other caribou antlers then, too. I'm not sure who is doing it this year, or why they find it so yummy; the things are at least six years old and must be a bit dry.
At any rate, he or she is having an antler-fest at my house, and none of us have seen any other sign other than the occasional grumble from the dog in the middle of the night, but that is not unusual. He talks in his sleep.
I made a special effort to make sure the garbage cans were in the garage and that my own Bear had not tossed a chocolate milk carton in the yard waste can, which would not help matters.
We'll just have to see who/what shows up. Bigfoot, maybe?