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Ursus americanus.
The initial plans for the day hike with my parents were quashed when the parking lot at the trailhead was full. The secondary option, farther along the road and deeper into the park, didn't have any bathrooms, so I had to make my way along some fallen trees and crouch carefully in a near-bog meadow to avoid getting my boots wet before we got onto the trail.
The trail itself was fun once we started on it. I walked ahead most of the way through the trees to lead us along the trail markings, and it didn't take long for it to move from a hike to a bit of a climb. Lots of rocks, lots of steep features. My mother wasn't too keen on it, and I had a great time jumping up, scrambling along, trying to use my hands as little as possible and leaping whenever I could. After a while, I took my sweatshirt off. Not too long after that, we hit the end of the treeline and got to the main ridge, with some gorgeous giant rock outcroppings for beautiful views of the trees and the sky, and a fairly even, flat grade to walk on.
We moved from one exposed rock expanse to another, stopping to take things in or talk to other hikers, and I was up ahead of my parents again and waiting up on a rock ridge when I heard a very distinctive sound. Not the sound of birds, or branches moving, or trees creaking. This was the sound of dried plant matter breaking. I looked towards where I'd heard it and caught a glimpse of a small, almost imperceptible, bit of dark movement in the tall grass a ways away and down below.
I thought, It must be some kind of mammal.
My parents caught up, and we took in the view, figuring out where we were in relation to the Hudson River and Pennsylvania, and I caught another glimpse where I'd seen the last one. And there was another bit of dark movement. And another.
And the bear poked its head up out of the grass.
"Bear!" I cried out, pointing, fast enough for my mother to see it walking off and my dad to see it dashing away into the woods. It was a moving piece of inky darkness compared to all the colors of the grasses and bushes and leaves, and it was soon gone into the trees.
It was at that point we collectively decided we'd turn around and head back to the car.
We knew we weren't in danger from the bear - it'd run off, and black bears aren't tremendously aggressive as bears go - but it seemed prudent.
Other highlights of the day were finding giant millipede along the trail on the way back, catching a glimpse of a large dark-scaled snake on the walk along the side of the highway from the overflow parking lot to the lunch cafe, and feeling accomplished for having done such a good job of finding trail markers and climbing so much.
And what a joy it was, to see that bear.
The trail itself was fun once we started on it. I walked ahead most of the way through the trees to lead us along the trail markings, and it didn't take long for it to move from a hike to a bit of a climb. Lots of rocks, lots of steep features. My mother wasn't too keen on it, and I had a great time jumping up, scrambling along, trying to use my hands as little as possible and leaping whenever I could. After a while, I took my sweatshirt off. Not too long after that, we hit the end of the treeline and got to the main ridge, with some gorgeous giant rock outcroppings for beautiful views of the trees and the sky, and a fairly even, flat grade to walk on.
We moved from one exposed rock expanse to another, stopping to take things in or talk to other hikers, and I was up ahead of my parents again and waiting up on a rock ridge when I heard a very distinctive sound. Not the sound of birds, or branches moving, or trees creaking. This was the sound of dried plant matter breaking. I looked towards where I'd heard it and caught a glimpse of a small, almost imperceptible, bit of dark movement in the tall grass a ways away and down below.
I thought, It must be some kind of mammal.
My parents caught up, and we took in the view, figuring out where we were in relation to the Hudson River and Pennsylvania, and I caught another glimpse where I'd seen the last one. And there was another bit of dark movement. And another.
And the bear poked its head up out of the grass.
"Bear!" I cried out, pointing, fast enough for my mother to see it walking off and my dad to see it dashing away into the woods. It was a moving piece of inky darkness compared to all the colors of the grasses and bushes and leaves, and it was soon gone into the trees.
It was at that point we collectively decided we'd turn around and head back to the car.
We knew we weren't in danger from the bear - it'd run off, and black bears aren't tremendously aggressive as bears go - but it seemed prudent.
Other highlights of the day were finding giant millipede along the trail on the way back, catching a glimpse of a large dark-scaled snake on the walk along the side of the highway from the overflow parking lot to the lunch cafe, and feeling accomplished for having done such a good job of finding trail markers and climbing so much.
And what a joy it was, to see that bear.