When the bears come the waters will rise / sweet rain will fill the barrels / and cardinals will whistle love songs. When the bears come my feet will touch the earth / and I will feel the branches of root light illuminating the dark / revealing a direction that has been blocked by disbelief. When the bears come joy will climb up my spine / and fireflies will gather in my hair/ my mind will clear/ pinpoints of flashing light will lead the way/ the mist that blankets the mountain will part / dew will fall under a waning moon / and I will hug a furry body until I sleep / burying my head in his chest / feeling his heartbeat as my own / whole / if only the bears will come…
Over The Edge and Beyond: Journal of a Naturalist 
Be careful, there was that one guy who lived with (and very close to) bears in Alaska for many months. He said that he was in harmony with them. Then the bears got sick of him and tore him to smithereens, killing him.
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That guy was crazy and treated the bears as if they were pets – these are wild animals and they need to make the decisions. I always allow them to make the choices they need to, so don’t worry Tom!
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