I was in one of those unsettled emotional spaces during a cold and rainy day in northern Michigan recently. We were going to slowly start our journey south, so we were saying goodbye to the wonderful area we visited for a six-month season (Shady Oaks RV Park). It meant saying goodbye to family and the dear friends we made over the summer.
There are always last-minute errands to run when hitting the road. This particular day, one of the items I needed to complete would put me within five miles of visiting Sophie, a rescued circus bear. I’d become quite attached to her over the summer. She was on the way to my Dad’s, so I’d stop often. She has a roomy fenced enclosure near a roadside RV park and convenience store before entering the Huron National Forest on Highway 65 outside of Hale, Michigan. She’s chubby and healthy, full of fur, and has quite the personality. Normally, she’d pace back and forth, occasionally coming close to the fence to excite her audience. I witnessed her enjoying an entire watermelon on one of my visits, and another Sophie admirer said he got quite the kick out of watching her frolic in her pool on a hot summer day.
Sophie had a very sad past in captivity from the time she was a tiny cub (stupid humans), but her home for the last few years has been in the roadside park. She has plenty of room to walk around, delicious food and lots of water, and she has a roomy house where she can hide and spend her hibernation months. Her owner comes every day in the early morning to care for the bear. Sophie is unrestrained and lets her keeper go about her business of cleaning the enclosure. The locals drop off fresh fruit and other treats for the owner to share with Sophie while she fattens up for the winter.
I love bears. They are fascinating to me, and Sophie is no exception. I wish she could be released into the wilderness to live the way she was meant to, but it’s impossible. She seems happy and well cared for, but isn’t she lonely? I can’t help but feel she has a longing to explore the woods around her, unhindered and without an audience.
The day I was running errands, it was rainy and cold and I was feeling out of sorts and emotional. I wanted to visit Sophie one last time. I pulled into the small parking lot, and was the only person there. I braved the drizzle and went to the fence of Sophie’s enclosure. At first, she slowly paced around.
To my surprise, she lumbered to the edge and plopped down right in front me. She actually met my eyes and tilted her head. Then, she sat back and bared her belly and played with her paws. When she did this, my tears started to roll.
Sophie put her snout through a fence hole and ‘talked’ to me–well, it was a growl in bear language, but I knew what she meant. The beautiful bear sat there for at least five minutes while we conversed. The giant ball of fur played with her paws, scratched her belly, and made guttural sounds in response. Her play became more dramatic and I laughed out loud at her antics.
Sophie rose on all fours when she’d had enough social interaction, met my eyes, nodded her head goodbye, and went to hide in her house.
I felt connected to Sophie and it made my day–well, my whole summer. My only regret was my arm wasn’t long enough to breech the outer fence and pet her snout and kiss her shiny black nose. In retrospect, that’s probably a good thing.
If you’re in Michigan and you get a chance to visit Sophie, please tell her I said hello. I know she’ll remember…won’t she?
Source: A Bear Connection
