My name is Berry Picker. I am a mother bear. I have two cubs—Honey Paws and Little Fish. This is a story about how we became spirit and what happened after we did.
It was a beautiful autumn day. I led Honey Paws and Little Fish down to the bog where the beavers live. The berry season was poor that year, and we needed more food before we went into our den for the winter. The bog was a good place to find the plants and roots we liked. We might even get lucky and find some honey in a tree nearby. It was chilly that day, but the sun was warm on our backs. We lumbered along under the clear, blue sky enjoying the clean autumn smells.
Suddenly a dark fear came into my heart—something was wrong. I heard man-voices. I saw them emerge into the clearing—there were four of them. They hadn’t seen us yet. I called softly to my cubs. Honey Paws came quickly, but Little Fish had found a bees’ nest in an old log and wouldn’t come. I called louder to him, but it was too late. The men had already seen him. A loud booming noise echoed in the hills around the bog. They had shot Little Fish! I ran toward him with Honey Paws at my heels. Then I heard another shot. I swung around. Honey Paws lay still, blood oozing from her mouth. My fear turned to horror. My grief turned to anger. They had killed both of my children! I was filled with rage! I stood erect and faced them. It took many shots to bring me down, but at last I gave up and crumpled to the earth. It was over in a matter of minutes. That is how we became spirit.
Our three bodies lay there as our spirits rose up slowly and hovered above them, reluctant to leave the life we knew. Three of the men came close—laughing and joking—slapping each other on the back. They poked our lifeless bodies with their guns, and one of them kicked Little Fish hard with his boot.
Right then I wanted to destroy them all—the way they had destroyed us. But I could not—I was spirit. In the Spirit Realm there is no violence or revenge like there is among the living. But there is a way to bring about change...
As we hovered there I noticed that one of the hunters had hung back from the others. Of course he could not see me, so I came right up to him and looked into his face. Deep, deep in his eyes I could see a tiny glimmer of remorse and a hint of guilt for what they had done. I decided to spend time with him since the others seemed hopeless to me. As the men trudged through the woods lugging our bodies, I whispered to Honey Paws and Little Fish, “Stay near me as you did in life. We will go home with this one.”
The first night we spent with the man-hunter, he did not sleep well. The three of us entered his dreams. Over and over he saw us shot. He woke in a cold sweat. He tossed and turned, but he could not sleep. For three nights we visited him with the same dream. It haunted him during the day, and he became nervous and irritable. His wife and children wondered what was wrong, but he was ashamed to tell them about killing the bears and the recurring dream. Finally, on the fourth night we visited him again, but this time after they shot us, he came close to look and we changed into his wife and children. He woke up screaming. His wife asked what was wrong and tried to comfort him, but it did no good. At last he fell back into a fitful sleep.
Then we came to him again. I came close and faced him in the dream. “Now you understand what you did to us. These nightmares will not leave you until you have done as I tell you.”
“What must I do?” the man asked.
“Winter is coming,” I said. “You will go alone into the deep forest. You will search until you find a den with a mother and two cubs. You will crawl in and sleep with them.”
Then we vanished and let the man fall into a sound sleep. When he awoke, he looked at his wife lying beside him. He kissed her gently on the cheek, and she sighed in her sleep. Then he got up and packed his gear. He went to the kitchen and took the food he would need. He went to the room where his children were sleeping. He kissed both of them and pulled the covers around them. They did not wake. Silently the man left the house and headed for the forest.
After many days of searching, he discovered a bear’s den at the foot of the mountain. It was very cold and had begun to snow. He found the den because he saw the steam from their breath rising from a small hole in the roots of a fallen tree. He brushed away the snow and peeked in—there was a mother bear and two cubs. He crawled in without waking them and lay down. In no time he fell asleep.
Of course we had been following him all this time and entered the den as well. There I gave him another dream. I showed him a beautiful, blue ball in a sea of darkness. Gradually I brought him closer until he was floating just above it. Then he saw that it was covered with a delicate silver web as fragile as a spider’s. This web held the ball and all on it and in it together. Suddenly he heard a loud ping. It gave him a start, and he saw that one of the strands in the web had been broken. The web began to unravel before his eyes until the whole ball came apart with a dreadful ripping sound and disappeared into the darkness.
“Who did this?” the man cried in horror.
“You did,” I answered. “You and your kind have broken the web. You have no respect for life other than your own. You think that you are Boss of the Earth, but you are no more than a thread like all the others. Now you have broken your connection with the cycle of life and caused this disaster!”
The man awoke weeping. The mother bear moved in her sleep. She put her arm around him, and the cubs cuddled close to him. His tears froze on his cheeks as once again he fell into a deep, deep sleep.
A dripping sound finally woke him. He felt the twitching muscles of the bears beside him as they too began to sense the change. The man roused himself slowly and got up as quietly as he could. Before he left the den, he bent to kiss the mother bear on her cool, damp nose and the two cubs on their soft, furry heads. Then he crept carefully out of the den leaving them to sleep a while longer. We too left to follow him home.
Outside he could see that spring was coming. The snow was soggy, and everywhere the sound of melting ice became the gurgle of brooks. The sun was warm on his face. As he walked he understood that he, too, had changed. After traveling through the night, he came back to his own house just before dawn broke. There he found his own dear family still sleeping soundly.
“Have we slept all winter?” he wondered as he undressed and climbed back into bed beside his wife. He did not sleep then but was overwhelmed with a sense of joy and peace.
“We are one,” he thought. “The bear family and my family—all of us—one. All life—the trees and plants, the rocks and rills, the sun and moon.” He smiled to himself and vowed that in the morning he would throw away his gun.
Then he turned to look out the window in time to see us leave. Silently, he thanked us and wished us well.
“Come, my children,” I said. “Now we can go home too.” The man watched as our spirits rose in the darkness and traveled toward the four stars that make our beautiful den in the sky.
“Tomorrow night,” the man thought, “I will take my wife and children out to look at the stars. I will show them the great bear constellation and tell them my dream.”
It was a beautiful autumn day. I led Honey Paws and Little Fish down to the bog where the beavers live. The berry season was poor that year, and we needed more food before we went into our den for the winter. The bog was a good place to find the plants and roots we liked. We might even get lucky and find some honey in a tree nearby. It was chilly that day, but the sun was warm on our backs. We lumbered along under the clear, blue sky enjoying the clean autumn smells.
Suddenly a dark fear came into my heart—something was wrong. I heard man-voices. I saw them emerge into the clearing—there were four of them. They hadn’t seen us yet. I called softly to my cubs. Honey Paws came quickly, but Little Fish had found a bees’ nest in an old log and wouldn’t come. I called louder to him, but it was too late. The men had already seen him. A loud booming noise echoed in the hills around the bog. They had shot Little Fish! I ran toward him with Honey Paws at my heels. Then I heard another shot. I swung around. Honey Paws lay still, blood oozing from her mouth. My fear turned to horror. My grief turned to anger. They had killed both of my children! I was filled with rage! I stood erect and faced them. It took many shots to bring me down, but at last I gave up and crumpled to the earth. It was over in a matter of minutes. That is how we became spirit.
Our three bodies lay there as our spirits rose up slowly and hovered above them, reluctant to leave the life we knew. Three of the men came close—laughing and joking—slapping each other on the back. They poked our lifeless bodies with their guns, and one of them kicked Little Fish hard with his boot.
Right then I wanted to destroy them all—the way they had destroyed us. But I could not—I was spirit. In the Spirit Realm there is no violence or revenge like there is among the living. But there is a way to bring about change...
As we hovered there I noticed that one of the hunters had hung back from the others. Of course he could not see me, so I came right up to him and looked into his face. Deep, deep in his eyes I could see a tiny glimmer of remorse and a hint of guilt for what they had done. I decided to spend time with him since the others seemed hopeless to me. As the men trudged through the woods lugging our bodies, I whispered to Honey Paws and Little Fish, “Stay near me as you did in life. We will go home with this one.”
The first night we spent with the man-hunter, he did not sleep well. The three of us entered his dreams. Over and over he saw us shot. He woke in a cold sweat. He tossed and turned, but he could not sleep. For three nights we visited him with the same dream. It haunted him during the day, and he became nervous and irritable. His wife and children wondered what was wrong, but he was ashamed to tell them about killing the bears and the recurring dream. Finally, on the fourth night we visited him again, but this time after they shot us, he came close to look and we changed into his wife and children. He woke up screaming. His wife asked what was wrong and tried to comfort him, but it did no good. At last he fell back into a fitful sleep.
Then we came to him again. I came close and faced him in the dream. “Now you understand what you did to us. These nightmares will not leave you until you have done as I tell you.”
“What must I do?” the man asked.
“Winter is coming,” I said. “You will go alone into the deep forest. You will search until you find a den with a mother and two cubs. You will crawl in and sleep with them.”
Then we vanished and let the man fall into a sound sleep. When he awoke, he looked at his wife lying beside him. He kissed her gently on the cheek, and she sighed in her sleep. Then he got up and packed his gear. He went to the kitchen and took the food he would need. He went to the room where his children were sleeping. He kissed both of them and pulled the covers around them. They did not wake. Silently the man left the house and headed for the forest.
After many days of searching, he discovered a bear’s den at the foot of the mountain. It was very cold and had begun to snow. He found the den because he saw the steam from their breath rising from a small hole in the roots of a fallen tree. He brushed away the snow and peeked in—there was a mother bear and two cubs. He crawled in without waking them and lay down. In no time he fell asleep.
Of course we had been following him all this time and entered the den as well. There I gave him another dream. I showed him a beautiful, blue ball in a sea of darkness. Gradually I brought him closer until he was floating just above it. Then he saw that it was covered with a delicate silver web as fragile as a spider’s. This web held the ball and all on it and in it together. Suddenly he heard a loud ping. It gave him a start, and he saw that one of the strands in the web had been broken. The web began to unravel before his eyes until the whole ball came apart with a dreadful ripping sound and disappeared into the darkness.
“Who did this?” the man cried in horror.
“You did,” I answered. “You and your kind have broken the web. You have no respect for life other than your own. You think that you are Boss of the Earth, but you are no more than a thread like all the others. Now you have broken your connection with the cycle of life and caused this disaster!”
The man awoke weeping. The mother bear moved in her sleep. She put her arm around him, and the cubs cuddled close to him. His tears froze on his cheeks as once again he fell into a deep, deep sleep.
A dripping sound finally woke him. He felt the twitching muscles of the bears beside him as they too began to sense the change. The man roused himself slowly and got up as quietly as he could. Before he left the den, he bent to kiss the mother bear on her cool, damp nose and the two cubs on their soft, furry heads. Then he crept carefully out of the den leaving them to sleep a while longer. We too left to follow him home.
Outside he could see that spring was coming. The snow was soggy, and everywhere the sound of melting ice became the gurgle of brooks. The sun was warm on his face. As he walked he understood that he, too, had changed. After traveling through the night, he came back to his own house just before dawn broke. There he found his own dear family still sleeping soundly.
“Have we slept all winter?” he wondered as he undressed and climbed back into bed beside his wife. He did not sleep then but was overwhelmed with a sense of joy and peace.
“We are one,” he thought. “The bear family and my family—all of us—one. All life—the trees and plants, the rocks and rills, the sun and moon.” He smiled to himself and vowed that in the morning he would throw away his gun.
Then he turned to look out the window in time to see us leave. Silently, he thanked us and wished us well.
“Come, my children,” I said. “Now we can go home too.” The man watched as our spirits rose in the darkness and traveled toward the four stars that make our beautiful den in the sky.
“Tomorrow night,” the man thought, “I will take my wife and children out to look at the stars. I will show them the great bear constellation and tell them my dream.”
©2015 Bonnie Bishop all rights reserved