My memories of bears carry very far, mine had the head that moved and the plush worn down to the cord. I've always admired this beautiful plantigrade both flexible and OAF, both shy and an impressive force. One that I have in front of me, is spent grazing my lookout compose of thin plywood and insulation, which do not withstand a "small" leg kick… but the bear has not felt me through the ventilation system that discharges my smells to six metres on top of my frail cabin lost in the middle of a frozen tundra.
The Centre boréal Wildlife greets me with a dozen photographers from Russia, Bulgaria, the Denmark, Germany, France, and Switzerland. The feeding place is surrounded by a semicircle of four carriages two-seater and a large for 12 persons with bunks and even toilets. I am alone, I prefer, in the farthest. Yani boss us filed around 4 pm and us will resume around 7 o'clock. In the morning I left my shed and adjusts my rackets while a bear just disappear between the pines. I wonder who would have the most fear of both if he crossed me, at this point, near the carcass of an elk?