Prologue
Before my arrival, I believe Lenders Laurentide had not encountered another human since his early childhood. He was old enough to have acquired language and to retain memories of other humans, yet not mature enough to comprehend the existence of other human settlements. I surmise that, had I not intruded into his realm, he would have spent his entire life oblivious to such matters, living as he had been taught.
My understanding of his life comes from a diary bound in worn leather, penned by Bethany Laurentide, Lenders’ mother. The final entry, dated March 10, 1955, reads: “His father is no more. Taken by the beasts of the wild. All that remains are bones. My own end is near. Lenders, though still grappling with the concept of life, can already speak and hunt. I suspect he will rely mostly on fishing and consume his catch raw. What compelled us to venture into this forsaken place?”
I am not sure that my intrusion did any good, except maybe introducing fire into his life, but I don’t believe I did any harm either and I was wise enough not to over stay my welcome or try to convince him to return to civilization a place he had no concept of.
He said in a rather rude understanding of speech. The translation is “Muma said we was born over the hill in a wooden cave. I found it once. It was made of trees.”
He took me over the hill. The place had long since been reclaimed by the forest and mountain. It looked like it had been half buried by a rock slide. “Muma and Pupa’s bone are there.”
The Old Man and His Cave
The day was young when I first saw him, a figure clad in furs, moving with an uncanny grace through the dense forest. He was not alone. A bear, massive and majestic, trailed behind him, followed by two playful cubs. I watched, hidden behind the foliage, as they foraged together, a sight that was both bewildering and fascinating.
The man moved with a familiarity that suggested he was part of this wilderness. His hands, rough and calloused, plucked berries with an expert touch. The bears, surprisingly, did not pose a threat to him. Instead, they seemed to regard him as one of their own, a member of their family.
Curiosity piqued, I decided to follow them, maintaining a safe distance. The forest was their domain, and I was but an intruder, careful not to disrupt their harmony. They led me through a labyrinth of trees, over a bubbling brook, and up a steep incline. I was panting, my city lungs unaccustomed to the thin mountain air, but I pressed on, drawn by the enigma of the man and his bear family.
Finally, we reached a cave, half-hidden by overgrown vegetation and shadowed by towering pines. The man entered, followed by the bears. I waited, my heart pounding in my chest, before I dared to approach the cave. Peering inside, I saw the man seated on a rock, the bears settling around him. It was a sight that would have been terrifying to most, but to me, it was strangely serene.
Believing I had not disturbed them and had not been detected I retreated, leaving the man and his bear family undisturbed in their cave. As I made my way back through the forest toward my camp I couldn't help but marvel at the extraordinary life this human was leading.
I hadn’t gone far when the man stepped out of a clump of bushes. I saw then that he was old, with grizzled hair and peppered beard. He smelled like bear but he was not filthy.
“In a gruff voice he utter, “H’ man.”
At My Camp
As the sun began to set, I led the way to my camp, a modest setup not far from where we had met. The old man, whom I had come to think of as the Bear Man, followed silently, his eyes taking in the unfamiliar surroundings with a mixture of curiosity and caution.
Upon reaching the camp, I set about making a fire. The Bear Man watched, his eyes wide with amazement as the flames danced and crackled. It was clear that he had never seen fire before, and I felt a pang of sadness for the harsh life he must have led.
With the fire providing warmth and light, I moved on to brewing some coffee. The aroma filled the air, mingling with the scent of pine and earth. I handed a cup to the Bear Man, who looked at it with uncertainty. After a moment, he took a tentative sip, grimacing at the unfamiliar taste. But he did not reject it, instead taking another sip, and then another.
As we sat by the fire, the Bear Man began to speak. His speech was rudimentary, his words halting and often difficult to understand. But as he spoke, a story began to unfold - a tale of survival, of a life lived in harmony with nature, of a bond formed with the bears that had become his family.
Then, from a fold in his clothing, he produced a diary. It was old and worn, its leather cover weathered by time and the elements. He handed it to me, and as I opened it, I realized it was the same diary mentioned in the story - the diary of Bethany Laurentide, the Bear Man’s mother.
As I read the entries, written in a neat, feminine hand, I felt a profound sense of awe and respect for the Bear Man and the life he had led. It was a life that was crude by our standards, yet it was a life that was rich in experiences and in harmony with nature. And in that moment, I felt privileged to have been allowed a glimpse into his extraordinary world.
Raised By Bear
As the fire crackled and the night deepened, Lenders began to recount his extraordinary tale. His voice, gruff and halting, filled the silence of the wilderness as he spoke of his past.
“I was small, very small,” he began, his eyes reflecting the dancing flames. “Found by Bear, near death. She took me in, cared for me.”
His words painted a vivid picture of his early years. Found nearly dead in the wilderness, he was nursed back to health by a mother bear. It was an unlikely tale, yet as he spoke, I could see the truth in his eyes.
“Bear taught me,” he continued. “Taught me to eat, to survive. Showed me how to catch fish, to gather berries. Taught me to respect the wild, to understand its ways.”
His life had been a constant struggle for survival, yet he spoke of it with a sense of reverence. He had learned to live in harmony with nature, to respect the territory of other wild animals, and to avoid humans, whom he referred to as ‘H’ Man’.
As he spoke, I could not help but marvel at his resilience and adaptability. Despite the harshness of his life, he had found a way to survive, to thrive even, in the unforgiving wilderness.
As I listened, I felt a profound sense of respect for Lenders, the Bear Man, and the extraordinary life he had led.
I showed him how to make fire for cooking and heat but he wanted nothing to do with it. I guess I understood but felt a little confused.
Lenders went off in the night and left me to my human ways but it was not the last I saw of him or his family.
The Bear Cave
In the morning as I was packing up to leave Lenders returned and invited me to his home. I agreed but with caution. To me the bears were wild animals to be left to their own devices. But went anyway
With a sense of trepidation, I followed Lenders to his home - a cave nestled amidst the dense forest. As we approached, I could see the dark shapes of bears moving about. A mother bear and her cubs were the first to catch my eye. They watched us with caution, but there was no alarm or defensiveness in their gaze. It was clear that they recognized Lenders as one of their own.
Several other bears came and went, each one acknowledging Lenders with a nod or a grunt. It was a surreal experience, being in such close proximity to these majestic creatures, yet feeling no fear.
The cave itself was surprisingly comfortable. It was spacious and dry, with a soft layer of moss covering the floor. In one corner, I noticed a pile of spears and animal hides - evidence of Lenders’ hunting prowess.
As I sat there, taking in the sights and sounds of the bear cave, I realized that Lenders Laurentide was not just a man of the wilderness. He was a guardian of the bears, a bridge between the human world and the world of the wild.
After a long visit, I bid Lenders farewell and left the cave. The image of him, sitting amidst the bears with a look of contentment on his face, stayed with me long after I had left.
Some weeks later, I returned to the cave, hoping to see Lenders and his bear family again. But the cave was empty. Lenders and his family were gone, leaving behind only the echoes of their extraordinary existence. I felt a pang of sadness, but also a sense of gratitude for having been given a glimpse into their world. Their story, like the wilderness itself, was a lesson to my humanity, to the enduring power of nature and the indomitable spirit of survival. And I realized that just because we in the so called civilized world have such luxuries of comfort far beyond mere survival doesn’t mean we have the best life.
The next spring I returned one last time in hopes of finding Lenders. Which I did but only from afar. He was leading a dozen bears away from what was a potential danger. The smoke of a forest fire was bearing down on them. I was glad that lenders understood the implications of the fire and knew enough to guide his family away. There were many other animals following lenders in a long line.
I wondered where he was taking them but decided I didn’t really want to know. I had been given a gift and that was enough. I never went out to the wilderness again but I heard a story some years later about the strange beast who saved thousands of animal from a forest fire and that some thought it might have been a Sasquatch. I knew elsewise. It was lenders Laurentide the Guardian Of Bears.