Bear (Costume)

David, having made a nice nest-egg for himself in 1999, was living, in a semi-retired state, out in a place called Honey Harbour, which was an extremely small town in those days. They'd get some tourist trade in the summer, but the permanent population numbered under five hundred. He had a house along a dirt road, from which he would drive into a bigger town two days a week, to be a calculus tutor to a couple kids. The kids were good kids, really, and David got along with both families.

In fact, it was the father of one of those two kids that got the whole thing rolling. The father's name was Geoff, and Geoff made the proposition in the middle of spring.

"David, our region wants to bring a festival to town. We want to start up the Bearfest again."

"Bearfest? What's a Bearfest?"

They were out on the porch, smoking cigarettes. Everyone in Honey Harbour smoked, even the children. Geoff continued: "It's been twenty years since the last one. It's a celebration of everything having to do with bears. And, at the centre of it, is that late one night a bear comes out of the woods and frightens everyone."

"How can you control that? Do you have a trained bear?"

"No, it's a person in a bear costume. Plastic claws and snout and a roar. It's fun for one and all."

"A bear costume. I see."

"Only trouble is: we need someone to play the bear. And we'd like you to play the bear."

"I don't have a bear costume, though."

Geoff laughed, right in his face. "I have the bear costume in my garage. It's been mouldering away all this time. And you know: I think it's just the right size for you. Listen, I take it as a yes. I'm going to air the thing out as soon as I get home."

It seemed to David a done deal. After all, he hadn't really 'given back' to the community, so it would be a wonderful favour to everyone.

A couple weeks later, David drove down a couple roads to get to Geoff's place. They had come together to play cards, but then they both remembered the bear suit. Geoff went into his spare room and into the closet and pulled it out.

It was all fake black fur, with a plastic face. The claws were plastic, too, though the still looked like they could do some damage to some victim. David put his nose to it.

"Oh, man, it stinks!"

"It's been in storage," Geoff explained patiently. "The stink will go away in a month, really. Wash it if you like, in cold water, though."

David lifted it off the floor. "And it's really heavy, too!"

"Oh, no, not much heavier than maybe a couple coats and jackets. You'll get used to it in no time. And, after all, you shouldn't be limber. You'll be pretending to be a two-ton bear, and with its weight you'll be forced to make it look like you're real."

David said: "Okay, well, I'll take this thing with me to my house, and I'll think about it." (He was having second thoughts.)

"We'd have to get the advertising going, though, so don't think about it too long. There's a couple local newspapers with websites, and we should get it into a Barrie paper and website too. Maybe even Toronto, who knows?"

David hauled the outfit back to his house, trying to think of a good place to let the thing breathe properly. He decided that a good wash--in cold water--was the right place to start, so four days later he filled his bathtub with cold water and Woolite and kneaded the suit therein. A lot of filth came off of it, and he had to buy three more bottles of Woolite. In the end, it was certainly a lot cleaner, and it didn't smell as bad. And that's when he called up Geoff to tell him that the Bearfest could go ahead as planned. Geoff booked the local park (called Emerald Park) and also arranged for the late-night fire in the woods (which was when David was supposed to appear and frighten everyone).

In the meantime, David did some research on bears. From watching videos he learned how to walk like a bear, rear like a bear, and make bear noises. He tried the costume on and acted like a bear; though the costume still smelled pretty bad, and though he had some trouble orienting himself properly, he figured he could make a good show of it.

On the weekend before Bearfest, David and Geoff went out into the woods to where the fire would have to be. It was a large open space without fire hazards, having been kept in condition by horny teenagers and drunken lowlifes for many years. They figured out the best place for David to emerge from, roughly on a cue from the emcee, a clever woman named Janet, who was well on board for the big event. Geoff still had some serious planning to do, so they left the woods once David had made a careful study of the environment, remarking on the bushes he would emerge from in one week's time. With a scary roar that would hopefully alarm all the adults there in the woods!

However, first there was Bearfest-afternoon and Bearfest-evening to get through before Bearfest-night. The town of Honey Harbour had pulled a bunch of carnival games out of storage--mostly hoops and balls and bottles of all shapes and sizes--and set them up and give away donated prizes, some donated from as far away as Gravenhurst. David noticed that it was, in fact, an event that drew strangers to it. Vendors were also there, ready to sell cotton candy and fresh produce, and a belt-maker was there, too. David, in a generous mood, bought a belt and had it sized and hitched it around himself for several hours, until he had to wear the bear suit. But that was hours away.

Janet, who would later cue the bear-suit, was the star of the festival. She organized the whole event, and also the dinner that was all set up buffet-style on a couple picnic benches (with beer for sale from a licenced booth). David didn't have to pay for his beers, though: he was part of the attraction, after all, so it could be written off (on what passed for a balance sheet) as an expense. Consequently, David had five or six of them.

Darkness was falling, and the stalwart guests, who knew (or thought they knew) what was going to happen out in the woods, remained, laughing it up nervously. David noticed two couples who were real foreigners: a Japanese couple and a German couple. David hoped they would come into the woods, just to really show them some Canadiana.

David left the circle, a little conspicuously, and intentionally so, in the direction opposite to the direction of the little clearing in the wood. The 'guests' had to believe he was going distant. He staggered off down the road, crossed it, and doubled back to his home (which was past where the clearing was). Once home, he checked the time, discovered he had two whole hours before the wooden event was to take place, so he sat down on his porch with a couple beer and pondered life and what it meant, but came to no conclusions. He had no wife, and no kids. Was he going anywhere? Why was he even alive?

It came time to haul off to the place in the woods. David gathered the costume up, along with a couple beer bottles, and walked along little-used rutty dirt roads to the clearing, which had been prepared to be as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. He was still a little early, so he drank a bottle of beer. Dusk. They'd be coming soon. He took off his clothes and got into the bear suit, except for the head, since he still had to find his place in the woods from which to roar and frighten. He went into the trees, put his clothes down in a convenient spot, and tried to be as silent as silent could be. And he waited. And he drank a bottle of beer. And he waited.

Meanwhile, Janet and Geoff were concluding their park event. To the gathered they said: "There's a spot in the woods we know of, and our event is going to continue there. Don't worry: we have flashlights and torches to lead us on the way. There's nothing to be afraid of." The locals and the not-so-locals had an idea of what was coming, but they played along, each believing him- or herself to be the only participant with secret knowledge. For half of them, it was all a big joke.

The gang got to the clearing in the woods. The moon hadn't risen--it wouldn't rise for five hours--and besides it was only going to be a quarter moon anyway. The got the fire going and sat in a close circle around it, twenty-five people altogether. And so the stories began: elaborations on stories from years before, about being in the woods on a night such as that one, and off things happening--a scream heard, a bright flash in the sky, the stink of something awful burning--and they became like the lotos eaters, quiet and calm, laughing sometimes, responding to the storyteller, and then Janet started in on a story which was set on a night much like that one, when she'd been going with a high school boy name of Rory. "Don't be scared," he'd told her: "They're more afraid of us than we could ever be of them." They'd kissed in the silence, and then he'd broken away from her, distracted. "What is it?" Janet had asked in a whisper. He'd held up a finger to silence her, then he'd said: "Maybe nothing. Or maybe it's a bear."

Janet shouted: "A BEAR??"

The circle of listeners sat, enraptured. Little did they know, for the most part, that there was no proper ending to the story; rather, there'd never been any need to go on. And so Janet stumbled for a moment, looking around frantically, waiting for something to happen: which didn't: David didn't jump out from the bushes in his bear costume.

In fact, nothing took place, unless you consider the sounds of crickets to be a happening.

"Uh," she began. "Something's gone really wrong. Sorry, so sorry. David should have jumped out of the woods by now." She called: "David!" but there was no response.

After a lot of calling and yelling, they gave up in the serious darkness; even as the search began on the next day, and planes and helicopters flew around overhead in their search the next week, so at the same time did all the other characters, Geoff and Janet and Rory and so on, over the following year, indeed, in that tiny slice of the world called Honey Harbour, fade into insignificance. Finally, decades hence, the world became to itself a half-remembered dream, like a dream one doesn't have time to reconstruct, for the effort is too great. It simply faded away....

At dawn the morning after Bearfest, David found himself laid down on dirt and stone, still in his bear costume. He could feel it damp against his naked skin, very blanket-like. He rolled over, onto his back and a tree's root, and he sat up sharply and managed to look around. He felt like he was either falling out of a dream, or into one. The forest was moist in its morning, and strange birds were all around. He couldn't hear anything manmade; he was forced to recall how he'd gotten there.

The previous day's events came back to him: sharply at first, as far as 'morning' was concerned, and vaguely at second, as far as the 'evening' was concerned. He remembered stumbling through the woods, looking for some group of people, and he'd continued in the pitch moving blindly, certain he was getting closer to the clearing in the woods. There had been just enough light left for him in the sky to avoid the ancient trees that were all around him. And then: he recalled nothing.

So, backwards: yes, he'd gone a bit into the woods, away from the spot from which he'd planned to emerge to scare the tourists, because he'd had to pee, which was a complicated business seeing as how he was in a bear costume. The zippers zipped, sometimes zipping in odd places. He'd had to turn and turn again to get at all those zips. He then discovered the proper zip, and tried to remember how to get at it, for future use. Having done the deed, at least for the time, he'd made his way towards the clearing, and he'd been certain he was going towards the clearing. He'd kept going, full of certainty, in one direction and then another, always drawn to flashes of light or flights of fancy. He supposed he must have finally laid down to rest. Which was where he'd awakened.

After a gross pee, David figured out where north was (approximately). He weighed the possibilities and arrived with the best likelihood would be to go west, since he would meet up with the CP Rail line. He knew it stretched across, going north and south. Once he'd found the railroad, he'd merely have to make a right and he'd soon be back in town. It was the best plan, since it was the most certain. And so he set off, away from the morning sun, to the west. The bear suit was itchy, but his only option was to go entirely naked.

The path he travelled upon that day sometimes went up, into dry ancient forest. The path sometimes went down, into bogs of squishy cold black mud that was much like a grotesque adolescent boy's disgusting science project about bodily waste and symbiosis. Once he'd passed his third bog, he stopped in despair. He knew he should have reached the rail by that time. Somehow, his geography of the terrain was, or had become, erroneous. He checked the map of the area in his head, and he tried to see where he'd gone wrong. He felt like he was entirely and utterly lost, in the forest, and it all had to do with the state of his soul. Plus, the suit hadn't passed through the bogs with none-so-small-as-a-ne'er-do-leave: rather, he was filth-full to the knee, at least on the outside.

He stopped when he reached some higher ground. Through the trees all around he could see something of the surroundings, but nothing gave him a clue except the position of the sun, which was rapidly descending to the west. He was hungry, and of course he had no food. He had a modicum of berry-lore in his head, so he started to keep an eye out for anything, so long as they weren't chokeberries. As he continued heading west, towards the setting sun, he came upon just the thing for him: a bush of raspberries, rather near to ripe. He sat down before it, and felt like he was the king of the jungle as he plucked and ate and plucked and ate. A rustling in the bushes made him turn. It rustled again. Was he in someone else's domain? How could he have avoided it? He was civilisation, and he was in that-which-is-not-civilization. Someone else's turf, without a doubt. But whose? He slowly got up, and moved away from the berry-bush. He waited.

Slowly, a bear ambled out of the woods. Apparently the berries were its. The bear pulled down branches and ate what it could. This took a long time. Finally, the bear looked up, and around, sniffing the air. David figured: this is it. I'm a goner. He put the bear-head over his face. Maybe that would do the trick. The creature, the beautiful creature, looked right at him. Its head bobbed around as it wondered what precisely to do. Evidently seeing no threat, it went back to eating the berries. David tried to come up with a way to scare the bear off, but there was no way he could see how to do such a thing. It was a bear, after all. And bears, so they say, don't scare easily. The bear, having eaten its full, lumbered off lethargically. David waited, then quietly returned to the berry bush, to denude it of all nutrition. He then moved off, and watched the bear from afar.

Two hours later, the bear awoke. Lead me to more berries, communicated David's mind to its mind, and sure enough the bear walked through the forest. David followed quietly. If he made a noise the bear could hear, surely he'd know, unless the bear didn't mind much another bear following it. Twenty minutes later, the bear found a fruitful tree. David didn't know what the plant was, but the food on it looked delightful. How could such a tree be poisonous, to bear or man? The fruits were like apples, but stretched out like lemons. The bear spent some time at the tree, then wandered a distance to lie down. David crept forth. Yes, the fruit was delicious.

They slept apart for the first night. Next day, and all the following week, they followed the same routine from bush to tree to bush again. David, like a girl growing into hand-me-downs, was growing into the bear costume; it no longer scratched, hardly at all, and the head turned out to fit him remarkably well. His senses had sharpened, even his senses of smell and touch. He was evaluating his relationships in an abstracted way, and arriving at new principles. The bear, meanwhile, had begun to notice him, and not to fear him or be belligerent towards. The bear could see what was happening. It could see that it had teamed up with another bear, though who led whom was obvious. But the forest has plenty to go around, and sometimes there's no need to struggle and fight.

One night, the weather turned unseasonably cold. Rain splashed down through the trees, great globs of water fell like stones, and David tried to get comfortable in a shivering way, in a nook made in a gathering of four birches. Suddenly something pushed against him, and he opened his eyes. The bear filled his vision. It had come over to him, and it was cuddling against him. He remembered a cat that used to do that as a habit, but in this case, judging by size, he was the cat and the bear was himself. He found himself warmed up immediately, and he cuddled closer to the bear such that the two of them were as one, deep in the forest. From then on, for the next three months, they slept that way every night, after eating sweet and juicy fruits and berries all day long.

Frankly, they were both getting a bit fat. Autumn was upon them, and winter was just around the corner. David wondered how this was going to turn out. Who knew how far away from civilization they were? He'd completely lost his geography. Perhaps they would come upon a habitation next day, but each day the same idea came, again and again.

One night, the bear started huffing and puffing against him, almost angrily. It started licking him, and David became convinced that the idea he'd had for some time was true: the bear was female. He thought about how species share traits, for he recognized certain signs. Yes, the bear was certainly female, and in heat. So, as they were cuddling there in the early evening, David made a slight adjustment to his costume, et voila! Afterwards, he and she, tuckered out by the exertion, fell into a deep and satisfying slumber.

It might have been late October when David started to feel like the food supply was winding down. The berries were hard to come by, and there was less light day by day. It seemed to him that the things he'd learned in school were almost true, about the turns of the seasons and what they meant. Day after day he followed his mate through the woods, until one day she moved behind a rock at the bottom of a hill. He followed her, and he found himself inside a small cave. Their bodies warmed up the space in no time. She yawned and lay down. He lay down beside her, and they made sleepy love together. She then proceeded to fall into a deep sleep, and nothing could rouse her. David cuddled up next to her, feeling very ursine, and fell asleep too.

Some time later he halfways woke up. It was night. He was hungry, but he was more sleepy than hungry. And so he went back to sleep, and the hunger went away. It was nice to be sleeping there, at his mate's side. Time became no more concern. Some days he awoke, but only for a couple minutes. He really was feeling fine, pressed against her warm body. Sometimes he wondered why he hadn't started all this earlier.

One morning, she stirred and got up and onto her feet. He awoke alongside her, and watched her as she lumbered over to the cave's opening. He crawled along behind her, and saw there wasn't that much snow outside. It seemed that spring had arrived, or at least the beginnings of spring. She looked at him, and shoved at him, and growled at him. He backed away. She forced him out of the cave. It seemed she wanted to be alone. He didn't know why. He wandered around, four-footed, sniffling through the wet brush of the early year, looking for something, anything, to eat. He chewed on some tasty branches, tasty with the sweet slimy filth left behind by myriad insects. He dared not go into the cave, so, once the sun had set, he lay down out there, alone and lonely.

Come morning, David began to get worried. What was going on in the cave? He sniffed around the opening to see what he could understand. He smelled something he hadn't ever smelled before. It was like a wet rag, like one he used to use to wash the outdoor furniture, but it smelled more ... alive than that. He nosed his way into the cave's opening, and there he saw that his wife had given birth to two cubs that nestled against her belly and suckled at a couple of her breasts.

David made a low growl, and she looked up at him with a suspicious and animalistic look, then relaxed, seeing him there. She yawned, and he crept into the cave, looking in wonder at his two children. He had finally had children, after all these years. It seemed like quite the miracle to him. Both the kids mostly took after their mother, but there was indeed something that reminded him of himself. It was in the way they moved their limbs. He was fascinated, and he watched them for the rest of the day, forgetting all about finding something to eat. The two cubs absorbed his attention entirely.

Next day, and the following week, David and his wife slowly taught the kids the rudiments of living in a forest. What to eat, how to walk, what to avoid and when: y'know, the rudiments. His sons, over the spring and summer, grew strong and brave, and much bigger than himself. It seemed clear that the kids loved him and trusted him; however, they greeted him with a certain distrust. David figured it had to do with them uncertain to whom their allegiances lay, being from a mixed marriage and all.

And so the spring and summer passed, with the family exploring far and wide over their range, which was about ten miles square. Together they'd fight off interlopers and trespassers, never straying too far from home, building mental maps of their terrain, and understanding the ways of the world, slowly at times but surely at others.

David and his wife knew the kids would be leaving home in the spring, and it grieved them terribly. Such a short period of time to be with the ones you love! You teach them right, and then they're off, never to be seen again, across some mountain range or some wide river, who could tell where their paths would lead? All they could take pride in was that they had done their jobs properly, and the kids were henceforth on their own. Yet they wept!

They went out for the last time that year, as a family, searching everywhere for food to fill themselves four months' worth, in late October. The sun started to set, so they called it a season and went into the cave.

The kids quietly relaxed themselves into docility, lumbered to their corners, and curled up with their eyes closed. Soon they were softly snoring.

Meanwhile, David's wife lay down on her side with a grunt and looked up at him imploringly. Come to bed, she was saying. We'll see each other in the springtime.

David climbed in and snuggled in behind her, his back to the wall.

Sometimes that suit really stinks.

"What suit?"

I know you're not a bear, and I've always known it.

"Oh! And what do our children think?"

They're not our children, you meathead.

David jumped in panic. He didn't know what it meant. Then he realized he'd been deluding himself, terribly, bear-cub-wise. He didn't know when the tryst had taken place: maybe after they'd settled in last year? Ideas came together in his head, and he knew the truth. He resigned himself to being step-fatherly. He still loved the little guys in any case, and he knew he'd still be crying when they left in the spring.

Yes, he'd figure things out in the spring....