Several years ago, the Man and I were hiking and camping in the Rocky Mountains late September, and I was a bit concerned about grizzlies. At the end of our vacation, he told me I should consider starting therapy as he did not feel my fears were “normal”.
In my defense, I consider that being afraid of a 300 kg bear able to kill me in about 30 seconds proves I am totally sane and never followed this great piece of advice.
Moreover, there are not many bears were we usually live (not many meaning one or two going to Switzerland on an excursion when they feel like taking a vacation from Italy). Usually the media is so busy talking about them you always know exactly where they are.
Still, I am scared of bears. And now, I cannot say there are not many in the country where I live.
Odds to meet one are pretty scarce in Toronto, except at the zoo, and I am totally fine with it.
Last July, while spending the weekend at a resort, the Man almost ran over a young black bear. He saved his life (the bear’s, not his own) by jumping on the brakes.
Let’s hope the bear will remember it if we ever see him again when hiking in the woods.