By Emily Hutchinson

A crisp, sunny New Year’s Day called us to the woods. Sunlight wafted through an evergreen cathedral over a winding river of opaque ice. Five orange hats bobbed through the snow as my husband, brother-in-law, and I followed Dad across the frozen brook with my younger sister at the rear, sliding on her rear and steering with her hands. The climb began as the trail steadily rose through the woods. 

Expecting untouched snow, we were surprised to find it covered with tracks large and small. That seemingly silent New Year’s Eve, the mountain had brimmed with animals trying to survive a cold winter’s night. We eagerly traced the history in the tracks. Some heavily traveled deer trails resembled highway intersections. Large cat-like footprints were spread several feet apart, indicating a chase. Fox, coyote, squirrel, rabbit, and mouse trails crisscrossed through the snow. Chipmunk trails came and went from small rock caves on each side of the path. One had ventured out of his home to scuttle across the path and check on his neighbor. Dad joked, “Gotta check on Betty!”

Trails of survival covered the mountainside as we passed the fir grove and climbed the summit. An eagle soared gracefully and fiercely overhead, demanding our attention but never stooping to ask for it. After taking in the view, we turned to the neighboring pasture as Dad filled our heads with stories from his childhood.

Finally, our path crossed with the king of all animal tracks (which we had all been secretly hoping to find): bear tracks – with back feet as large as Dad’s boots. 

As we headed homeward, we secretly felt the bear tracks calling us back, begging to be explored. Much to our delight, we crossed them once again on our descent. We decided to track it to see where it had come from.

The majestic footsteps led deep into the heart of the fir grove forest until, suddenly, the markings changed. A breathtaking discovery brought us to a halt. Snow had been skillfully swept away in smooth arced patterns as the bear had gathered dirt and fir needles from the forest floor. The swirls stretched at least thirty feet across, creating what looked like a sea in the snow and drawing us to their loving destination – a tightly crafted bear nest.

The bear’s tracks, nest, and swirls were all remarkably fresh; it had snowed the previous day, so the tracks must have been very recent. We figured we had startled the bear as we began our climb along the grove’s edge. Stirred from his winter’s nap, he promptly headed out the other side of the grove and over the top of the mountain (where we had first crossed his tracks).

Full of excitement, we headed back to share our stories over Mom’s homemade soup. Swirling through our heads was the incredible thought that we had wandered the mountain at the same time as the bear. Dad remarked, “That was exhilarating. Thanks for dragging me out with you, kids.”