This is War

When I heard part of the rock wall tumble down the stairs Friday night, my first thought was, "Oh no you don't, Bear... Those plums are MINE!" I didn't exactly go outside and tell him that. I actually first had a heart attack. Looking up and seeing a bear is always a bit disconcerting. Then, with my heart pounding in my throat, I locked the doors because the bears around here can open them. As a matter of fact, Ilona's neighbor had one in the house the other day. The bear opened the garage door - from the bottom! - came into the house, opened the fridge and helped himself. I kid you not.

Thing is, Cayenne and I had already transformed all those gorgeous Reine Claude plums into jam and tarts and sorbet... in our minds, at least. The tree was so laden after our warm frost-free spring the branches were bowing to us. 

Saturday morning revealed that he had enjoyed some of our plums, and judging by the pits in the massive pile-o-poop he left for us, this hadn't been his first trip. Apparently, he'd also visited our apple tree and many of the acorn scrub oaks. 

So the girls and I picked about one hundred of the ripest plums that evening, hoping he'd leave the tree alone in favour of a different tree with riper fruit. We also sent a Diarrhea Curse his way: "You will pay for this sacrilege with the squirts!!"

He broke a couple of small branches that first night.

(We'll save the wall for Nick...)

This morning had more surprises for us. Our harvest-of-the-ripest did not work, and seems to have brought out the beast in him. He destroyed a third of the tree. Branches lay twisted and broken at her feet, my Reine standing nobly with open wounds.

But it seems our curse worked.