At the fire, we looked up and stared a bear in the eyes.

“Thirteen bears.”

That’s how many the ranger said were frequenting the area where we camped in Glacier National Park.

“Mostly moms with cubs. So far, not aggressive. But, comfortable, which isn’t good.”

Those last words were from the park ranger I affectionately call Janice – because I don’t remember her real name.

So, we did everything by the book. Food stuffs, including our camp stove, went in the bear box. No scraps behind, not even bacon grease or food scraps on the fire. Nobody wants to wake up to a hungry bear tearing a hole in the canvas or you.

Still, the kids wanted to see a bear.

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