Mountain living, surrounded by rocky outcroppings and trees as far as the eye can see, means we live among wildlife, which is an amazing blessing. It’s also fraught with unexpected encounters that leave you throwing up your hands and declaring, “You can’t make this stuff up.” Since settling in Colorado decades ago, we have lived in Pinewood, Evergreen, and now Black Hawk—all areas where sometimes the wildlife seems to outnumber the human population. Notably, the elk herds are abundant and can be a challenge to live with, especially during rutting season, which, by the way, is about now. In case you’re new to the area, hold onto your hat—you’re in for a ride. Let me explain: Rutting season is when the males gather the group of ladies they intend to mate with. It’s a surprisingly violent, hormone-charged, antler-knocking, bugling flurry of activity that is undeniably majestic, as long as you stay out of the way.
“A bear got into the car and caused a bunch of damage.”
When we first moved to Evergreen with our two big Labradors, the home we bought had been vacant for a stretch, so there was a lot of wildlife around—some welcome, and some not at all. The No. 1 unwelcome squatter was a large and not-so-stealthy mouse colony. Think “Ratatouille.” Eradicating the mice was a challenge but eventually accomplished. Without human intervention, the rabbit population had (not surprisingly) multiplied. They could be spotted zig-zagging in front of the car every time we drove up the driveway. We called that stretch The Bunny Field. Of course, where there are bunnies, there are foxes. We had an abundance of black foxes and common red foxes everywhere. Foxes are cute and playful creatures, fun to watch. They also make terrible noises, usually before sunrise. In case you’ve never heard it, allow me to enlighten you: It’s a scream like what you’d imagine the sound of a terrified woman being dragged by the hair into the depths of hell to be like. It’s a very unsettling wake-up call—the kind that has you scanning the grounds with a spotlight in your jammies, hoping like hell that you don’t find a mutilated corpse. The dogs didn’t like it either. Startled, they jumped up and growled while staring out the windows. There is hope, though. Eventually, you (dog and human) get used to it. You learn to discern the difference between a fox and a woman in distress, roll over and go back to sleep. Sometimes, attempting to take a walk at night, we could hear the mountain lions roaring up in the rocks behind the property. Not the most comforting sound. Instant change of plans. The dogs were alternately fascinated and annoyed by all the outdoor wildlife shenanigans.
You may have noticed that the bears are out, searching for ways to fatten up before hibernation. They like to plan ahead. When we lived in Pinewood and Evergreen, we had black bears that crossed the property, usually carrying a bag of trash from a neighbor that failed to secure their can. They are cute to watch, sitting like “Winnie the Pooh” with a honey pot, digging into the bag for a ‘smackerel.’ The clean-up is not so cute, though, and it has to be done quickly, lest the dogs get into the mess and eat things they shouldn’t. Here in Black Hawk, the bears are just as hungry. The other night, our Daisy began growling and barking. She has developed a window-watching circuit that covers all angles of the property. It’s very handy while tracking moose (one of her favorite past times). She went from the back windows, ran across the floor to the chair under the front window; then onto the bed in the guest room for a closer look, and then trotted into our bedroom where she perched on top of the big chair, all while growling, which then turned into all-out barking. It was 1 am on Sunday, and I was not amused. I got up to see what the ruckus was about. Bleary-eyed, I found her staring out the front window and barking. I tried to focus in the scant moonlight but could see nothing. While I blinked and tried the view from different windows, the dome light came on in the Land Rover, illuminating the interior. Not a good sign. I didn’t see any movement inside, though. Back in the bedroom, I shook my husband awake, alerting him to the problem. “Is the light still on?” he asked sleepily. I went back to check, this time bringing a flashlight. When I looked again, the dome light illuminated inside the Toyota too. And, yes, the light remained on in the Land Rover. Moving the flashlight around, I saw a shadowy figure low to the ground by the front bumper of the Toyota, which then scurried off into the trees. Bear, I thought. The light went out in the Toyota. I returned to the bedroom. Shaking my husband’s shoulder, I filled him in on what I saw and said, “Also, the light is still on.” Sighing, he swung out of bed, put on clothes, and after first checking the windows, ventured outside, flashlight in hand. Daisy and I watched from the front-facing windows. She seemed very pleased with herself having alerted us to the trouble outside. It was in her expression and the tilt of her head, a cross between pride and pandering for acknowledgment. She glowed under my praise. We knew Hubby was returning to the house when the dome light went out. He must have closed the door. When he came inside, he shared his findings. “Bad news,” he said. “A bear got into the car and caused a bunch of damage. He chewed the door panel, tore open the driver’s seat cushion, and knocked off some panels. That’s all I saw with the flashlight, but it’s bad.” In the morning, we went out to assess the damage in daylight. There were muddy bear prints all over the outside of the car, mostly on the driver’s side. Inside was not pretty. Actually, the damage could have been much worse. Bears can cause a lot of damage, especially if they get trapped. Since the door was found open, it was a mystery why it felt the need to chew on anything, especially since there was no trace of any food, drink or packaging left inside the car. Hubby, being who he is, immediately priced out the repair and got the parts coming. It’ll be good as new in no time, but an alarming experience just the same. In the following days, our neighborhood Facebook page reported bear sightings and similar vehicle damage. The worst was when a mama bear entered a car and then got trapped inside with her cubs outside. Predictably, she went all mama bear on that car. That damage involved the full destruction of the car’s interior, making it hardly recognizable. The pictures were jaw-dropping, making it clear we got off easy.
My advice about living among wildlife? Avoid any mamas with babies—whatever the species; stay out of the path of elk in rutting season; learn to recognize the alarming sounds of wildlife (lest you confuse it with women in distress); remove all trace of food in your vehicles (although that wasn’t a lure in our case); lock your vehicles every time; and keep a good dog (at least one) by your side, and on a leash when out for a walk.
