What If...Instead Of A Bear... It Was Coyotes?

I have waited for the train to slow down on the philosophical debate of Would You Rather A Man Or Bear In The Woods

I waited mostly because I was busy being entertained by reading the comment arguments, and seeing men flail, gnash their teeth angrily, and thrash against what is society's view of their gender as a whole. I have seen men agree with the women, saying that there are men out there who are worse than bears (usually those guys are the cool ones, yah?). I have seen women, who by the profile pictures and their lifestyle photos tell me they wouldn't survive just walking in the forest, talk about how they wouldn't be scared of the bear and be able to make friends with it before a man was able to control himself.

I've read a LOT of amusing things, serious things, and things that I disagree or agree with. But, like with all things that turn into a big internet debate... I see an unhealthy amount of disrespect from humans to each other. I see the inability to disagree respectfully and maturely. And that hurts my heart.

But... I want to throw a true story, a non-fiction anecdote out there.

And then I want to say some things... and maybe by the time the article is done, I will have a halfway decent train of thought going that people can ponder on. Maybe my story and opinion, will screw everyone up, and blow your minds to the fact that this was a metaphorical question, and nobody learned a single thing from it like the intention behind the question.

And here's the fun part: My opinion is based off of real experiences... not hypotheticals and clinical statistics.

I am a woman - and I HAVE been alone in the woods... with a bear... AND a pack of coyotes... AND a man.

I have had several instances, in my life, where I have been alone in the woods.... And I have encountered each of the 3 things in question (I'm aware coyotes weren't a part of the original fraction here, but they're a part of my fraction, so 'bear' with me... get it?).

Alone In The Woods With A Whole Pack Of Coyotes

Just after I graduated high school, I was living in an arid beautiful location - Coarsegold, California, 20 minutes away from Yosemite National Park. We lived on a beautiful property that overlooked the entrance to the valley of California. We were high, and while the forest on our property wasn't very dense, just right outside of it, a little mini-mountain climb up higher onto the cliff was a beautiful spot overlooking for miles, nestled with a thick brush of fir and cedar trees on a gentle slope.

My days off were spent sometimes on this lookout nook, with a good book. I'd climb the vertical wall up to the point above my house, settle down against my favorite tree, and get lost in my books. Only my little brother could get to me, and Mom never could find me. Some days she'd spent calling out to me, and I'd yell back to let her know I was fine, but I would astutely refuse to back inside.

One day, the adventure jumped out of my book and into my reality. Engrossed in my book and the silence around me, I was content and unaware. Until I heard a twig snap not too far in front of me. I looked up casually. I was used to the sounds of the forest, so I wasn't really alarmed, just responsive.

As my eyes slid up from the pages of my book, they locked onto two honey-golden orbs, and it took me a moment to realize I was looking into two eyes. I zoomed out in my vision because, for a few seconds, all I could focus on was the gorgeous golden-colored orbs staring straight into my eyes. I realized, after blinking to make sure I wasn't 'seeing things,' I realized I was staring at the biggest wild California coyote I had ever seen. He was tawny, light tan fur, blended with perfectly smoothly blended patches of darker fur. He looked like the most beautiful naturally colored quilt. If I had stood up, he would have still be over half my height on all four paws. His head was massive - and honestly, I thought he was a wolf.

And all I had to do was reach out my arm if I wanted to touch him.

I remember my breath catching in my throat, not out of fear (at first), but out of awe. I didn't say anything, but this coyote and I stared at each other for almost a minute. There was nothing threatening about him, he wasn't haunched or crouched. His teeth weren't bared, his fur smooth and relaxed.

Then I looked around me, and this time when my breath caught in my throat... it was out of...a teeny tiny wittle itty bitty bit... of fear. There were 7 or 8 other coyotes around me. And when I say around me, I was surrounded. I looked over my shoulder and leaned around the tree to see two around the side and behind me. 3 or 4 more were on the other side, around behind beside, and in front. Surrounded. Completely. There was no way for me to skirt around the tree to get away - because there were some behind the tree too.

Each one of them was a little smaller than the big one in front of me, but they were still massive nonetheless. I still wonder to this day if it was wolves or coyotes around me, because I have never seen coyotes as big as these, up until this day. I also could have the 'I almost died and it was a little scarier than I remember it' syndrome.

If this pack of coyotes suddenly decided it was lunchtime... I would have been very much on the menu.

The great thing about me, even at this point in time in my young life, is I had spent a great deal of it learning about animals. I had never been surrounded by coyotes yet until then... but I had people who had taught me about wild animals in the forest.

Stay calm. Read the body language of the animals.

None of them were in defensive or offensive positions. The only coyote to actually acknowledge me up until this point was what I assumed was the alpha that had locked eyes with me. He was still watching me, his head tilted curiously as I sat there and looked around at his pack.

I remember nodding at him, like he knew what that meant, and saying in a very soft voice: "Hey, buddy. Before you eat me... let me finish this chapter okay?" I went back to reading my book, my heart pounding in my chest. It was hard to focus, but after a few minutes of forced meditation, staring at the words on my page, I looked up and I could see the tails of the coyotes as they traveled back up the hill, and deeper into the forest.

I was both surprised and a little disappointed. The encounter had been so... peaceful and anticlimactic.

I was grateful that I wasn't hurt. But I was also disappointed I didn't become best friends with Gigantayote and his pack. But if I had reached out to him, I probably would have been killed. Still, yet, this is one of my most treasured memories. It was an experience that not a lot of people get to have, and I hold on to that memory with reverence.

When I was 12, a bear wandered into our campsite.

My first family camping trip was a week of adventure and crazy. Wild crazy parties at night where a lot of the adults were drunk and loud. The days consisted of hiking to waterfalls and swimming, my older cousin got me, my younger brother, and his brother lost for 7 hours, making the adults panic. I almost fell off a cliff into a river from a 200-foot drop during that time. Got chewed up by our parents up one tree and down another.

One of the last nights of that week, a bear wandered close to the camp. By warning of walk-talkies from other groups of campers, everyone in our camp scrambled into their tents in a panic.

Yeah. The tents are totally going to keep you safe...

My mother had sent my younger siblings into the tent with our cousins, but she held her finger up to her lips and indicated I come to sit by the fire.

We couldn't hear anything but the crackling of the fire that all the other adults were just going to leave burning bright in the middle of summer in a CALIFORNIA FOREST because of this damn bear... But after a few moments, the sound of snuffling and shuffling reached our ears.

Mom and I looked around quietly and finally, it broke through the treeline enough for us to see it. It was a little bear, probably young and not fully grown yet. Mom leaned into me.

"Are you scared?" She asked curiously, wrapping her arm around me as her eyes followed the bear that was harmlessly snuffling around in the woods just about 50 or 100 feet away.

I wasn't. Probably because I was more fascinated with the bear and wanted to pet it more than I realized that it could tear my arm off and beat me to death with it. Oh, wait. That's monkeys. The bear could gut me with one swipe of its claws. There. That's better.

"Good. You need to remember, little maiden, that our mother earth and its creatures only harm you for a couple of reasons. Either they are hungry, they feel threatened, or they are misplaced and wounded. That bear does not want to hurt any of us, no matter what your Aunt Lynda says in her fear. That bear is just curious and wants to check things out, and maybe get a snack. So what should we do about this bear?"

I won't go into any more of that story, because that is going to get me going on a tangent that is not part of this story. I will say that the bear, after a few minutes of sniffing, snuffling, moseying, and nosey, noticed us by the fire. It stared at us for a moment and then turned around, showed us its cute little butt, and walked back into the forest. My mom and I were leaning against each other, the woods for the first time since the first bottle of beer was cracked open...were quiet.

"Don't tell your Aunt the bear is gone just yet. Let's look at the stars for a while, first." Mom whispered to me, and we sat there for a while longer, as long as the peace lasted, together. Another favorite memory that I cherish.

About a month after the coyote incident... I also ran into a man in the woods.

Yosemite is full of trails. I was a young 19-year-old, with surplus energy even after going to college and work, a car, and a license. I was free as a bird living there. There was one trail that I took often. Along the way to a waterfall, there was a secret little path to a hollow by a calm part of the river.

In the middle of the river was a large, flat rock that jutted out of the water. During Monarch migration, the butterflies would fill the hollow, and if you lay down in the flowers on the rock, they'd sometimes land on you and kiss your skin with their feelers and dusty wings. Migration time was my favorite time of year to be in my little secret peaceful hollow.

I was hiking one day, heading toward it. I was so excited to slide down the little dirt embankment under a thick layer of shrubbery and enter my own little enchanted forest meadow. I had found it by complete accident - literally I mean I had tripped, fallen, slid under the bushes in the soft dirt, down the embankment, and with a face full of forest floor, looked up. The first time I fell into my little sanctuary, it had been migration season too.

Halfway through my trek, a man had come off another trail and waved at me.

"Hey! I got turned around, can you point me in the direction of the parking lot?" He asked grinning sheepishly.

"Oh yeah! It's easy to get tangled up in these paths, since they all connect. The path right there goes straight to the parking lot, just follow it all the way through. It's about a half a mile."

"Oh! Wow, thanks!"

Reading his body language, he was relaxed. He was dressed like someone who didn't know a whole lot about hiking, with his fancy white tennis shoes. His face was friendly, his smile was genuine. At least, it seemed. I waved with a smile and continued my way, feeling happy that I helped somebody.

What a great day it was turning out to be.

A few minutes later, I felt the hairs on my neck stand up. The birds around me went silent. Having been outside enough to know that when the birds go quiet, there's a predator near, I decided to stop and survey my surroundings.

Nothing up ahead, nothing to the sides... behind?

I turned around, just in time to see the man I had given directions to duck behind a tree. My heart pounded as I took a few steps backward, in the direction I was originally walking. I walked backward, watching the tree, going at a steady pace, making my footsteps loud.

I saw him peek around the tree, and he caught me staring at him. He hid again. At that moment, my instincts went wild. I turned and began jogging, passing my secret hollow exit. I was dressed for jogging, bulky clothing being a hindrence at the shrub door of my sanctuary. My blood was roaring in my ears, my heart was pounding.

Why was he following me? Why the HELL was he hiding like a creep?

I turned after a few minutes, and he was jogging, keeping pace behind me about 200 feet back. I began to jog faster. For 10 minutes, alone in the woods with this man following me. The last leg of it I burst out into a full run, sprinting.

Thudding loud footsteps behind me drew closer, I could hear him panting now as he was catching up to me. I turned a sharp corner in the path, and almost slammed into a couple that were hiking near the end leg of one of the trails.

I remember gasping in surprise, and then saying loudly, trying to catch my breath:

"I FINALLY caught up to you guys!"

The couple looked at me and I whispered:

"I'm alone. That guy has been following me and chasing me. I'm really scared. Please help."

The looks immediately went from slightly confused to smiling. The girl reached forward and grabbed me into a hug.

"There you are! We were getting worried!" I remember trembling violently as she hugged me, and tears silently starting to pour from my face. They both took positions on either side of me, and they led me down the trail.

For a little while, the man hung back and followed us from a further pace, and then he went down another trail.

I thanked them both profusely and apologized for ruining their hike. They both gave me a hug, and told me to be careful, and that they were happy they could keep something bad from happening to me. I don't particularly enjoy this memory.

Out of all three incidents... the only incident with the man is the one that scared me enough that I never went to my secret butterfly hollow again.

So, to anyone who may have had a snooty opinion, about why a woman would choose the bear. I am living proof that that bear will most likely leave the woman alone. And so will the coyotes. As long as she doesn't scream and run in terror - the animals have no interest in humans. So long as she doesn't do anything to make it feel threatened or defensive.

It wasn't the first time I had run into a man in the woods. And it wasn't the last. But after that one time, for a long time, every time I did run into a man in the woods, fear trickled through me, and I would watch them, hands gripped around a sharp hunting knife that found its home on my hip while hiking from now on until their backs faded completely from view.

People don't have to like the facts - but even experts agree that humans are more likely to harm another creature than a bear.

Bears that visit campgrounds, bird feeders, and garbage cans almost never kill people, even though these bears have by far the most contact with people. The 750,000 black bears of North America kill less than one person per year on the average, while 1 out of each 16,000 people commits murder each year across North America.

*Most attacks by black bears attacks are defensive reactions to a person who is very close, which is an easy situation to avoid. Injuries from these defensive reactions are usually minor.

An average of 3 women a day are murdered, one-third of those being intimate partners that kill them.

According to these expert statistics... it would take bears 1200 years to accumulate the same amount of murders - targeting BOTH genders - to equate to the number of women that men kill in one year. (Disclaimer: I'm bad at math... so this could be stated completely wrong... my point is it would take a LONG time for bears to catch up on a murder spree)

So.. to those of you who think women are stupid for choosing the bear...

Maybe take my life story as a personal testament. I have survived encounters with actual bears. And a whole pack of coyotes.

They didn't give two shits about me.

I am in no way saying, that these creatures aren't dangerous. I'm not saying that women should try to be a Disney princess every time she sees a wild predator and assume it's going to just turn out fine.

But, I am saying they have less reason to fear the predators on four legs, than the hunter on two.

The man who hunted me that day, like I was a rabbit, chasing me through actual woods?

I'll never forget the feeling of fear that took over me. The worst part about it... I had already been molested as a small child by a roommate of my mother's, and two different boys in high school had tried to force themselves on me.

The man in the woods wouldn't have been the first man to hurt me, had he caught up to me. And he wouldn't have been the last.

After the man in the woods... I went through a sexually abusive/repressive marriage. I left him. Then I experienced a partner who drugged me, and raped me so brutally I had to wake up and go to the hospital. Despite handing the police his DNA pulled from my battered and bruised body, a name, an address... he's still out there living the good life today.

The scariest part about the man in the woods is... unless someone sees it or catches it on camera... he can do whatever the fuck he wants to you and get away with it.

But if a bear were to attack you, or a coyote, or a wolf... the entire village would raise their pitchforks, and the local leaders would call for a culling of the animals.

The human race punishes animals that live in the forest for defending itself against humans more ferociously and dedicatedly. They will wipe out all of the wolves in Utah if one happens to get hungry because of the deforestation and they go after a sheep.

But...the cops of America will take down a statement of a woman's rape while staring at her almost nude broken bruised body in the hospital, nod at the nurse who confirms DNA being pulled from you body, and then go home and forget about the damage that he saw on your battered broken body, and be so numb to victims that the pain and sorrow and trauma of the victim is easily blanked out. There was no witnesses and it'll take 5 years for the rape get to get ran through the system because they are so behind.

Nothing they can do. Oh well.

And that's a true comparison too. That I have lived through AS A WOMAN.

Instead of trying to defend yourselves aggressively about this subject boys, maybe you should try a more gentle approach if you want to change mine, and countless women's minds about how you are more dangerous to us than a bear. Or a pack of coyotes.

I know you're not genetically programmed to take a breath and try talking to us in soft, non-threatening voices when you want to make a point. But... you know. I'd be less scared of you, and more inclined to believe you won't hurt me when you're not acting like a rabid dog that got a bone taken away from them to defend yourselves.

Ya know? Just... a thought, friends.

Time is precious, thank you so much for taking some to read my article. I hope you enjoyed it and it proved useful in some way!

Find my fictional fantasy book "Memoirs of the In-Between" on Amazon in paperback, eBook, and hardback.

You can also find it in the Apple Store or on the Campfire Reading app.