“That Bear Ate My Pants!”

This story is from the middle of the book. At this point, our extra-large bear cub called Osita (which means cute little bear!) has escaped, and we’ve spent all morning chasing her all over the farm. Just when we though we had her cornered, she ran right up a tree. So my Ecuadorian bosses, Johnny and Jimmy, have asked me to climb the tree to get her down. They loved to set me little ‘challenges’ like this.

Bear-Faced Cheek

This tree was about as thick around as my forearm, and about as tall as a million of me stood on top of each other. Well okay, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration. It was a very tall tree. The bear at the top of it looked more like a cuddly toy than ever.

Except that she weighed more than I did, was significantly stronger and had four legs and a head full of sharp things. If she did decide to come down she would have to go through me to do it. I tried not to think too much about this as I stripped off my shoes and socks. Actually I was thinking about the nettles I was standing in.

Must look tough, I thought. Must be a man.

I took firm hold of the tree and spiked myself on a sharp bit of bark. Bugger.

Then my friend Toby offered me one end of a piece of old rope. He must have brought it from the garage to make a leash for the bear. For a few seconds I thought he was expecting me to knot up a complete safety harness from scratch, or reveal knowledge of some ancient tribal rope climbing technique. But as I stared in confusion at the grubby line in my hand a light bulb pinged on in my head. I’d never felt more like Indiana Jones as, ignoring the oil stains and sawdust on it, I clamped the rope between my teeth and laid my hands on the bark. And with all the grace of someone who is unbelievably crap at climbing skinny trees, I climbed that skinny tree.

About two-thirds of the way up, sore and sweating, I heard a cry from Johnny. I risked a glance down and saw him waving. I was shaking, just about clinging on for dear life, but I’d made it. I’D MADE IT!

“Okay, tie the rope on there!” Toby called.

I was glad the bosses didn’t speak English.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I growled around clenched teeth and a mouthful of string. I couldn’t take even a finger off the now smooth bole of the tree. I needed two hands and two feet just to stop myself slipping right back down it. Yet far below they were waiting for me to do something. How I’ll never know, I coughed the end of the rope towards one hand and, working entirely with my thumbs, made a pretty shaky knot. That was  it for me; my sweaty hands slipped and I slid inelegantly all the way to the ground. Straight into the damn nettles.

And so began my first ever tug of war with a tree. Four people pulling back and forward on the rope while the boss called out the timing. “Pull, Pull!” Johnny shouted.

We pulled. The tree shook. And the bear grinned down at us all, obviously delighted with this new game.

We weren’t done yet. The Ecuadorians had another plan up their sleeve. Genius it would not be – at least based on their recent record. So far they’d come up with two plans for recapturing Osita: 1) chase her, and then 2) chase her some more. It was a brutally inefficient, utterly ineffectual strategy, because she was better at it than us in every way. That was why we were now pulling on a rope tied to a tree.

The new plan didn’t disappoint. A masterclass in subtlety, it cleverly took advantage of the fact that we’d already managed to subdue and restrain the tree. Now we would punish it for willfully supporting a fugitive.

Five bodies twined themselves into the rope and prepared to take the strain. A collective deep breath was taken. And Lo! The top of the tree did begin to bend! But that was just the wind. We hadn’t actually done anything yet.

We took the strain and began to pull. No grunts of exertion were necessary at first, and the treetop was clearly moving. Bear and all it swayed, then edged closer to the ground. We pulled harder. The tree was really bending now, as testosterone and adrenaline vied for superiority within us. Feeling like my arms would cease to be permanently attached as soon as anyone let go, I gritted my teeth and pulled on. The top of the tree was making a crazy angle with the ground and the bear was scrabbling around to stay upright. I would have cheered but my whole body was taught with the effort. Slowly, the scant foliage inched closer. And closer. And closer! We nearly had it! All of us were at maximum effort, five grown men throwing their entire weight onto this rope. So very close! If any one of us could’ve taken a hand off, he could almost have touched the matted fur of our quarry.

Osita noticed this too. She looked around her for inspiration and quickly formulated a plan of her own. With a speed born of desperation – or perhaps born of being a bear – she ran down the almost horizontal trunk of the tree to the ground. Across the ground for a short distance. And up the next tree over.

You’d think we’d have seen that coming.

I started to see the funny side of it straight away. Along with the equally amusing prospect of all but one of us letting go of the rope in dismay – only to see the last person twanged into the air by the rapidly unbending tree and disappearing into the distance like Wily Coyote.

Starting to laugh at this moment was not a good idea, for precisely the reason described. Recognising that fact somehow made it worse, and I suddenly realised that I really had to let go of this rope Right Now.

“Let go?” I hissed through clenched teeth.

“After three,” came the reply. “Uno, dos, TRES!”

Five bodies flew through the air as we all dived wildly away from the rope.

The tree didn’t move an inch.

Well okay, it wobbled a bit. But it stayed exactly where we’d left it. In our Herculean efforts we’d bent it past the point of no return. This tree had something in common with a bloke I knew in college. It would never be straight again.

I stood up and brushed the grass off my jeans, feeling a little sheepish. Around me everyone else was doing the same, except for Jimmy. Jimmy was spitting out mouthfuls of nettles. Toby grinned at me. I grinned back. And we laughed. Boy did we laugh! Even Johnny joined in. Then he walked over to the tree trunk and reached up to untie the rope, now hanging from a spot just above his head.

END.

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