3 Unexpected Behaviour

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Stephen Whiteside
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3 Unexpected Behaviour

Post by Stephen Whiteside » Wed Dec 14, 2011 6:38 am

3 Unexpected Behaviour

© Stephen Whiteside 14.12.2011

It was one of those days that made you glad to be alive. Clear sky. Bright sun. Slight breeze, so you didn’t get too hot. Pocus was powering his kayak across a stretch of river, his tour group strung out behind him like a mother duck with her ducklings. Pocus was fairly confident of showing his charges something special today. They had talked about it extensively the night before.

The salmon were heading back upstream to their spawning grounds. Pocus and his group would soon be approaching a shallow stretch of the river with a small waterfall, and there was a good chance that grizzly bears would be waiting there to catch the salmon. It was an utterly awe-inspiring sight seeing a giant grizzly catch a flying salmon in its bare teeth. Pocus had witnessed this a number of times now, but he still found it heart-stoppingly exciting.

Today, with a bit of luck, they would see it again. The wind direction was favourable, blowing away from the site towards them, so their scent was not being carried on the breeze. Pocus signalled to his troupe to follow him as he paddled to the water’s edge and pulled his kayak high onto the shingle beach. From here they could slip into the forest, and walk around the next bend in the river. A short distance from there lay the waterfall. The trees came down close to the water’s edge, so they could watch the show from good cover.

Of course, Pocus took no chances. Beautiful as bears were, they could be highly dangerous. Yes, they were programmed not to attack humans, but you never trusted a bear - or a computer programmer. Pocus always carried a large gun, just in case. He had never yet fired a shot in anger - he did practise quite often on the small range he and his colleagues had set up back near park HQ - but one day perhaps he just might. Anyway, it made him feel much safer, and that was the main thing.

They tip-toed through the forest for ten minutes or so, then Pocus turned and held his finger to his lips as they reached the edge of the trees once again. There lay the waterfall, no more than twenty metres away. They worked hard to focus on the water, struggling also to adjust to the bright light after the darkness of the forest. Sure enough, there were the salmon, hurling themselves a foot or two into the air as they worked to negotiate the change in the water level..and here was a bear, approaching from...who knew where? It had appeared like silk. One moment it was not there, the next it was. It might have crept silently around their own little group for all they knew.

Everything was set up. Each of them had a silent camera embedded in their wrist or temple. It really wasn’t necessary to even open your eyes. The camera would relay the images to your visual cortex as well as any eyes. It was impossible not to look through your eyes on an occasion such as this, though. It seemed to be a primeval human instinct.

The bear made a lunge for a salmon and missed. But not by much. Another lunge was also unsuccessful. The third attempt saw him grab the salmon briefly by the tail between his teeth, but it twisted itself free. The bear was finding its range.

Suddenly something very odd happened. A salmon torpedoed through the air and landed smack! in the middle of the bear’s flank. The bear twisted in surprise and agony, roaring out in pain and rage. Another salmon struck. And another. Now the bear was rearing to its full height, swatting the air with its great paws. Still the salmon kept coming. Small streams of blood could now be seen running down the bear’s fur. He was having some luck beating off the salmon. Several fell back into the water with broken backs or crushed heads, but there were always more to take their place.

The bear seemed to be losing the battle now. His trunk was covered with small open wounds. The blood ran freely down his body, and the very water of the river was beginning to be discoloured.

The tourists and Pocus shrunk back from the edge of the forest, stunned into silence, scarcely able to believe what they were seeing.

The cries of the bear were becoming weaker now. It dropped to its knees. Still the salmon kept coming. The bear began to sway dizzily, then crashed to the ground, part in the water, part out. The frenzied salmon appeared to increase their intensity if anything at this point, tearing huge chunks of flesh from the bear’s lifeless form.

At last all went quiet again. Who knows how long it had taken? Time had appeared to stand still. With great trepidation, Pocus inched out of the forest, signalling the others to wait behind. There before him lay the bare bones of the bear, picked quite clean.

A terrible thought crossed his mind. Could these carnivorous salmon develop a taste for human flesh? With a shake of his head he signalled to the tourists not to follow him. It was time to get out of there, and fast.
Stephen Whiteside, Australian Poet and Writer
http://www.stephenwhiteside.com.au

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