THE CROSSING
When I look at this image, I am reminded of an image from my childhood. My father had returned home from a trip to a local filling station one evening and told my mother and I that someone had reported seeing a bear cross the road between the station and our house. Although I was only about four years old at the time, hearing the news excited me, and I insisted upon seeing the bear.
My parents knew that I would not understand the difficulties associated with showing me the bear, so they decided to humor me. They dressed me for bed, bundled me up, put me in the car, and drove to the neighboring farm. Their plan was to shine a spot light around in the fields and tell me that the bear was no longer there. In the process, however, they were sure that the cool night air and the car ride would put me to sleep.
When we reached the neighboring farm, my father directed the car onto the lane that led to the farm house. As we pulled up in front of the farm house, the car's headlights illuminated the barnyard gate. There, standing on its hind legs and leaning against the gate, was the bear. Only the barnyard gate stood between the bear and the newborn calves on the other side. As the bear turned its head to look toward the lights, our neighbor raised an upstairs window and stuck out his head to see what was going on in front of his house. When my father began to explain the situation to him, the bear headed toward the woodlot behind the barn. We followed in the car, but soon lost sight of the bear.
Although the bear never crossed the barnyard gate that night, a crossing of sorts may have happened for me. The image of the bear at the gate is my earliest memory of the natural world and somehow that world established a lasting foothold in my life that night. During the next few months and years, my thoughts turned to bears on a regular basis and I often drew pictures of them for my relatives. Exploration of the streams and woodlots surrounding my home became the central recreational activity of my early years, and my fascination with the creatures that lived there continued to grow.
The mother bear in this image must have known the limits of her young cubs, because she eventually chose a new path that did not include crossing the fence. Yet seeing the image of her standing on her hind legs with her front paw pressing against the fence and glancing over her shoulder took me back to that night at the neighboring farm nearly forty years before. I don't know exactly what happened to me that night. Perhaps my young, uncluttered mind was especially receptive to the genuine wonder associated with wild things. I only know that on that night, at least in part, I crossed over to a world from which I have never returned.
