Johnny has been determined to have me get a photo of the bear that visits the pear tree outside our window nightly. We know he visits because at night the driveway is full of pears near the tree and in the morning they are gone. Plus the bear leaves reminders of his visit, piles of upchucks (as photographed in the Bears Like Pears entry) or poop. Here is a formidable pile of bear poop deposited under the apple tree in our front yard a few nights ago.
Since I've been sick with a miserable cold and spend most of the night coughing, I'm awake enough to periodically look out the window and see if there's a bear eating pears. In the dark. But, of course, I never happen to look at the right time. So Johnny got the brilliant idea to bell the bear. That is, he hung a bell from the pear tree where he could see a path the bear has made below the tree. I was supposed to listen for the bell and take a photo of the bear. No luck.
Last night, however, after sleeping most of the day Sunday in an effort to finally lick this virus, I was awake most of the night and sat up each time I heard anything that could possibly be construed as a bear munching on pears. Bears, it turns out, are very quiet. But finally, just before 2 a.m., my diligence paid off. Fumbling around in the dark, I managed to turn on the camera, push the button to open the flash attachment, and snap photos of a very black bear in a very black and misty night in the driveway just outside our bedroom window. Mostly what I got was pictures of the water spots and other dirt on my lens. But if you look carefully, you'll see the bear. About all you can see in the second photo is his eye shine as he turns to look at me.
An hour later, I heard Johnny's
bell. The bear was back. But he did not come into view that time.
We need an infrared light out there. Or moonlight.
This morning, Johnny measured the distance from where the bear's nose was in the driveway to where my nose was in the window: 33 feet. Close enough, I'd say.