It’s bear season on Vancouver Island. The salmon have nearly finished their run for the year but hibernation has not yet begun. Black bear are abundant in this rainforest that I am also a denizen of. My nephew Caleb worked in the woods of this island for years and he said there was seldom a day that he didn’t see a bear. It’s wondrous and a bit frightening.
Many months ago, when Charlotte was just starting her lifeguarding for the city of Vancouver, she needed a whistle. I bought one for her at the dollar store that she pooh-poohed as not being professional enough, so I slipped it into a drawer.
Last week, when my dear friend Theresa visited, we went walking up in the alpine meadow of Mt Washington and then to the Oyster River Potholes, a popular place for swimming in the summer, now deserted by people, though not bears. On the way out the door, I grabbed the whistle, still sheathed in its plastic container. In both places we saw clear evidence of bear scat, laden with berries.
At the potholes, after our sighting of scat, I realized I had left the aforementioned whistle in the car. Ugh. We laughed and I scolded myself, but we weren’t too worried. Bears usually show up later in the day, anyway. And we had Moondog to bark at any that might show up.
We trudged our way to the rushing Oyster River from where we had precariously parked on the side of the Inland Island Highway. Most people speeding by don’t even know this geological wonder is here, but locals let other locals know these secrets. Though lucky recipients of this closely-kept secret, we quickly realised we would not be seeing any geological potholes today: the atmospheric river from the week before had fed this river ravenously and it was rushing to the sea, as if it late for a job interview.
While no potholes were to be seen, Theresa and I perched on a largish rock and took selfies and photos of each other and Moondog, enjoying the beauty, if not tranquility of this majestic, hidden refuge. We were so happy to be together and to be in nature and only ever-so-slightly worried about lumbering creatures encroaching.
We had played aroundon this outcropping rock for at least 10 minutes, circumnavigating the entirety of it – it was only the size of perhaps two cars side by side – when I glanced down and saw a red whistle. It had appeared out of nowhere. Literally.
Emily. That vixen.
It’s amazing what spirit can do. Theresa and I marveled at the impossibility of it all and I picked up this dirty little whistle and blew it. My daily asking of Emily is for serenity, serendipity, safety and signs. In that moment, I felt I was experiencing all four of those requests in one big answer, wrapped in Emily’s wry humour. “Don’t worry, Mama. You’re going to be fine” is what I felt wisping through the air.
No bears were seen, and the red whistle will soon be hanging from my car’s rear view mirror. How I love the signs. Keep them coming, my Emily.
Serendipity? Signs? Serenity? Safety? The red whistle gave me all four today. I’ve got shivers.
*Recent update: I experienced my first day of substitute teaching, which was quite a trial by fire! Somehow I found myself teaching hockey to first graders, and managing two unruly (but very fun) groups of 8th and 9th graders for their PE lessons. The red whistle? Indispensable! The red whistle is now on my School District 71 ID lanyard, and I have no idea where the original one even is.
