Willie, the logger that lives south of us, has had a big garbage dumpster at the end of his driveway for several years.  About a month ago, we noticed something different ~ a metal fence post, mounted with a wildlife camera, aimed at the dumpster.  HMMMM?

Our first thought, "Looks like coons are getting into his garbage."  Over the next few days we watched in amazement.  The dumpster was now on the south side of the driveway.  Now it was farther east.  Now it was back where it started.  Now the camera was mounted on a tree, not a fence post.  What on earth is going on?

Then we noticed a garbage can (filled with garden chemicals) in our barn knocked over.  Odd.  But nothing was disturbed, so we chalked it up to wind, or our neighbor's dog, or maybe a coon.  We righted the can and went our merry way without another thought. 

A couple days later Nancy gives a yell: "Oh! My! God!"  We both freeze and stare in disbelief.  Now it's time for the camera!

This is, or rather was, our worm bin that composts the huge amount of vegetative matter we generate.  A partition down the middle of separates already finished compost on the left from the "active" side, containing the most recent food scraps mingled with worm bedding of shredded paper.

This was no dog, and no coon. The top piece of plywood across the gable end of the structure is 1/2 inch thick, and you can see it was ripped in half. The rest was Hardiplank -- left over house siding.

Had to be a bear. He had smelled the aroma and headed for the active side.  He ate a lot of garbage out of there, but still managed to leave us a bazillion worms - alive.  We have no idea when this damage was actually done because we don't pass this spot daily, and we had recently returned from a 12 day vacation.  So we spent the next hour relocating traumatized (?) worms into two huge plastic tubs, which we relocated into the garden, behind the fence.  They would be safer in the solar building, but neither one of us relished the idea of fresh garbage smell permeating the new sheetrock in there.

We had known the bin was getting a little rickety.  Now it has to be reconstructed and a new, bear-proof design developed.  That had not been on this summer's to-do list, but it just got added.

Three days later one of us was working in the garden while the other was mowing grass.  Dianne went to the house for a drink of water.  As she approached the house she didn't see Thibodeaux in any of his usual hangouts.  But when she walked into the house, lo and behold, he was in the laundry room, hunkered down between the washer and the cabinet.  How in the devil did he get in there?  Maybe Nancy let him in.  But when Dianne got into the kitchen, she discovered he had let himself in. 

Because the weather was so nice, every window and door was open.  The double sliding screen doors were all askew.  Holes were ripped in both doors, one really torn up. None were big enough for him, but he'd managed to pull one door off its tracks and scoot in. Something had frightened him so badly that he had bellied under the deer fencing around the patio and ripped his way inside to sanctuary. We can't imagine what would terrify him so badly -- except an actual bear encounter.

Darned dog!  Darned Bear!
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Doors closed. Ground floor windows closed at night. But silly us. We had forgotten past experiences.  A couple days later we awoke to a world of destruction.  The bear had visited overnight and hit almost every bird feeder we had.  A pole holding 4 feeders was knocked down and 2 of the feeders appeared to be gone.

A rebar post was bent, its copper feeder carried off and mangled.  You can see it next to Thibodeaux.

Plastic did not stand a chance with the huge mouth of the bear.  Nor did the contents.  Notice there are NO thistle seeds on the ground amid the pieces of this formerly-full feeder. 

We wandered around the hillside looking for the missing feeders and eventually found them.  The green metal box was mangled and broken. 

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Only one feeder wasn't damaged, because the lid popped open and released its contents easily.

We did not want to lose our bird population, so we moved many of the feeders to the balcony on the second story.  The bear would have to be an acrobat to climb the pole then traverse horizontally under the balcony floor to reach the feeders.

We called Willie to ask if he had caught anything on his wildlife camera.  Yep, he photographed the bear!  About 250 to 300 pounds was his guess.  After picking up garbage all over the place a couple of times, Willie put a ratchet-strap around the dumpster.  After that, the bear couldn't get in, but pushed and shoved the dumpster all over the place trying.  Ah-ha!  The bear was moving the dumpster, not Willie!

Willie said that if we called Fish & Wildlife, they'd come out, trap the bear, and euthanize it. We didn't want the bear dead -- just gone. Aggravating somebody besides us!

He said one more thing that really bothered us.  Late one night he heard the bear and went out on his front porch, maybe 125' away from the dumpster.  He shot in the air over the bear's head to scare him off.  The bear just stood there and looked at him.  NOT GOOD! 

So we have a hungry bear that is not really afraid of gun shots.  Oh, the challenges of living in the wilderness!

We made sure all of the good smelling stuff was tucked safely away in the solar building.  But we learned we have no idea what smells good to a bear.  That evening we got home about 11 from dinner with friends, and with some nervousness we BOTH took Thibodeaux for his nighttime walk. We discovered we had been visited again.

The same garbage can had been hit again!.  We didn't have to look far to find the first thing the bear sampled - diatomaceous earth.  You use that to help repel creepy crawly things in the garden.  The bear did not like it very much, so he headed back to the garbage can, leaving a  white paw-print return trail .

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Ooh, yumm! Slug bait!  It must smell and taste wonderful to make a slug want it instead of our strawberries.  The bear ate the whole box.  Good thing the stuff is pet and wildlife friendly, or he might have had a belly-ache.  Maybe he did anyway. We can only hope.

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We spoke with other neighbors.   Other than Willie no one had been visited by the bear.  Why are we the lucky ones?  At least two of our neighbors put their garbage outside in plastic garbage cans!  We don't do that.  So far the bear just likes gardening supplies, but that garbage can has now been moved to the solar building, along with everything on the open shelves that looks remotely attractive to a bear.

The next night Bruno paid us another visit.  About 5:45 am, a noise awakened Dianne.  She sat up and listened.  Nothing.  As soon as she settled back in bed, Thibodeaux started barking like a mad fool.  She leaped up and ran onto the balcony.  It's bright enough at 5:45 that she saw the bear scurry away.  "Get out of here, bear!" she hollered. He might not be afraid of Willy's gun, but he was afraid of Dianne!

The bear had come back for the last feeder we had left down at his level.  We hadn't bothered with it because it was empty. Silly us! The bear stood up, pulled the rebar down, and lifted the bottle right off.  But Dianne scared him off before he did any more damage.

Each night since this all began has been very worrisome for us.  Thibodeaux always has a late night walk, just about nightfall.  We have been going together rather than taking turns.  In fact one night we even brought along the shotgun just in case.  This is getting a little nerve racking and a tad expensive.

Two nights later. We were hit again.  This time, back at the barn, bottles on the ground and on the eye-level shelf were vandalized. Wait a minute -- we've moved everything that smells good out of there!

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Roundup concentrate! That patch of driveway will never grow a weed again.

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Liquid Fence concentrate.

This stuff smells horrendous -- like rotten eggs. You spray it on plants to keep deer away. But apparently not to keep bear away.

He also hit quarts of Roundup concentrate, isopropyl alcohol,
motor oil, busted the plastic tub, and riffled through lots of empty feed sacks.

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Teeth marks in the broadcast spreader container.

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Second bottle of Liquid Fence - ready to spray. Well, it used to be.

This is starting to cost real MONEY.  That big container of Roundup concentrate is over a hundred dollars. Another $25 for the Liquid Fence concentrate. Motor oil, more Roundup, a broken plastic tub.....  They don't give away broadcast spreaders either.  And he punctured an almost-full 2-1/2 gallon bottle of lime-sulphur (for spraying fruit trees). He didn't spill it, but now we've got to figure out what to do with it. And it stinks!

The big Roundup container, which had been about 2/3 full, was empty.  A huge puddle was on the gravel driveway, but how much did the bear drink? The liquid fence concentrate and spray bottles had been emptied too - consumed or spilled?

Cleaning up, we saw an untouched bottle on the shelf: Prestone anti-freeze. We looked at each other with the same thought. That's a way to get rid of the bear.  But we couldn't do it.  Neither one of us could intentionally kill a bear, no matter how mad we were.  We had already called the poison control hot line and learned that Roundup is used in suicide these days.  The agent said it takes only a few ounces to kill, but the stuff tastes really nasty and he doubted the bear would have drunk much.

If diatomaceous earth and slug bait didn't give him a belly-ache, that night's smorgasbord sure should have!

Antifreeze, motor oil, and everything else consumable is now in the solar building, along with irrigation supplies we don't want him playing with -- everything except gasoline, diesel, and bar oil. Would the bear hit THEM?

It has been 4 days since the last encounter. So far no new attacks.  Will he come back? Or has he moved on to tastier fare, like wild berries or the neighbors' household garbage, pet food, and other supplies?  Has the bear committed suicide-by-Roundup?  Only time will tell.