Two Bears on a Log

Two bears sat on a log right at the edge of the lake.  The sky was a beautiful swirl of different hues and sunlight sparkled like diamonds on the water. The bears were quite oblivious to all this. They were nose to nose, looking at each other and holding paws anxiously.

"Do you think it is a very long way to 'Over There'?" said Bella.

Fred shook his head thoughtfully. "I don't know - it seems like you could get there in a flash if  only you knew how."

"But nobody knows what its like 'Over There'. How can you go somewhere if you don't know what it's going to be like?"

"The only thing for it," said Fred Bear, "is for one bear to go first and then come back and tell the other all about it."

Bella shivered on her piece of log and gripped Fred's paw that bit harder.

"I wouldn't want to be the one to wait here all on my own to find out." she said. "I wouldn't like that at all."

"The thing is," said Fred, at long last turning his gaze to the horizon, "that no bear should ever be left on their own. Bears should always stick together. That's what I say."

"Like Pooh?" asked Bella Bear, brightening.

"I beg your pardon," said Fred. "I don't think I did, did I?"

"NO, silly," laughed Bella patting his paw, "wherever I am, there's always Pooh - that's what I meant. It's never much fun with one - but two - can stick together said Pooh said he, that's what he said, said Pooh."

"Oh," said Fred. "Well if that's what he said... maybe he had a point."

"But what about the rules?" said Bella wide-eyed. "We have to obey the RULES. No more than one bear at a time may make the journey to 'Over There'."

"Yes, but what about the rule that no bear should be left on their own? You can't have it both ways."

"Hmmm," said Fred. He squinted into the sunlight, trying very hard to see what it was like on the other side of the lake to no avail - it remained a mystery.

"Well, I don't know what we're going to do, but I do know that I never played by the rule book before. In fact, do you have a rule book on you now?"

Bella felt about in her rucksack and produced a well-thumbed copy.
"Of course," she said proudly, holding it up for inspection.

"Come along," said Fred, hauling her to her feet. "You and I are going to find a window."  He strode purposefully back towards the tearoom.  A puzzled Bella, hurried along behind.

When they got inside, Fred rushed to the staircase and together they climbed to the first floor. As luck would have it, there was a window right at the top. He pushed it open with his paw.

"Now," he said, hurling the little book high into the air through the window, "you see how easy it is to throw the rule book out of the window?"
Bella didn't answer - she was in fits of giggles.

"But, but" she gasped, "EVERYbear knows we should do what the rule book says. Won't we get into trouble?"
"With who?" said Fred. "Do you know who wrote it?"
"Er, no." said Bella.
"Then they can't complain can they?"

"Oh," Bella pondered a while. Then she looked out at the lake. It was amazing how different it seemed - the water churning with possibilities, the light bouncing from ripple to ripple playfully. Quite a different view.

"Come on," she said, taking his paw. "Let's go back."

Together they made their way back to the log.  The rule book gradually flapped away in the wind, and in any case, they paid it no attention.

"It's time, " said Fred.
"Yes," said Bella. "It's time, but this time it can be different."

And the sun went down over the land, over the log, over the lake... and the rule book flapped away into the water, and sank, without a trace.

Hot pen - A Snowy story...

(This one took longer than the requisite 3 minutes - I got rather carried away!)

Mark looked up and saw a white silhouette against the snowy background....

"Maria" – he whispered – "I’ve seen a white silhouette in the snow – what could it be?"

“Don’t be silly darling,” giggled Maria – “that can’t be a white silhouette – it would never show up against the snow – I told you not to drink shots with the locals – they have a lot stronger stomach for that kind of thing than you have.”

Mark sighed. He had tried very hard to educate Maria about snow. It wasn’t her fault but she still managed to see snow in the way that every other non-snowspert on the planet saw snow.

White. Lily-white. Dulux White and whitest white – until it turned to slush that is, when it became a kind of brown, but most people didn’t even think that far.

 He was tempted to refer her to Dr Eismann’s Directory of Snow-Shades, which she swore she had been swotting up on in preparation for their Antarctic expedition, but there wasn’t time. The white – and it was white – silhouette against the darker shades of the snow had not moved and he was still no closer to finding out what it was.

Leaving Maria giggling happily to herself (she was still hallucinating from the effects of the Antarctic ‘Brandy’ – and he knew that because he had stayed home reading all night, while it was she who had been out on the ice floe swigging back the local brew until the early hours), he crept closer.

Suddenly the sun dipped behind a cloud making it easier for him to see – and what he saw had him gasping in amazement and reaching for his camera.

Surely this was an Ice-angel penguin- the only known species of completely white penguin with feathers instead of fur. They were six foot tall and the only part of them that was a different colour was their startlingly blue eyes – which you almost never got a sight of as they were buried deep within the feathers.

In mating rituals of course, the feathers would open up to reveal their best and most colourful attribute to the opposite sex, but as there was only one of them, there was no chance of a mating ritual today.

Mark tried as far as possible to muffle the crunch of his footsteps over the fresh snow but along with very good eyesight (which it had to have to see clearly through its feathers) the Ice-angel penguin also had excellent hearing. It turned its head and looked in his direction.

Mark groaned – this was a chance in a lifetime to get a picture and here he was scaring it off. But no – the penguin looked straight at him and an amazing thing happened. Its feathers parted and the most amazing blue eyes he had ever seen, looked piercingly at him.

He fumbled with the camera and finally captured within the lens one of the world’s rarest sights. He chuckled to himself thinking of what his fellow Penguinologists would say when he showed them.   Then his brain started working again – there had been a temporary hiatus due to the cold – and he realised what this meant. The Penguin was starting a mating ritual – and he was its object.

Very slowly he started inching backwards towards his tent. From what he remembered of the ritual the first 10 minutes were mutual staring – and presumably - adoration. After that it was full on penguin mating with liberal use of beak and claw and he didn’t want to be there for that.

There was nothing for it.  He reached the relative safety of his tent, still holding the creature’s gaze. He grabbed the giggling Maria with one hand, his camera tight in the other. It was time to RUN!

Hot pen - Dougal's Itch!

Thanks to Maria for this next hot pen - I just love finding out what each one turns into - it's never what I expect! ;)

 

Dougal had a itch that just had to be scratched...

And lo! He’d scratched it. But then he discovered it had run off to a new place – so he hunted it down and scratched it there too. He thought he’d got it then but no, it moved off again to a new and rather inaccessible spot. There was nothing for it but to lift up his leg, twist his back, stretch his other leg round that bit further and....

“Well DONE!” said his Yoga Teacher.  “NOW you are master of the art of Zen Yoga. This position that you have finally mastered is called ‘Scratching the untraceable itch.’” 

Dougal panted and gasped with the exertion of holding the pose while his Yoga Teacher hummed, tutted and moved round him taking photos from every angle, measuring with his Zen ruler and scribbling in his notebook.

It seemed to take years but finally the teacher had finished and Dougal was told he could relax his pose and return to the central Yogic pose of “waiting for a bone.” This pose required him to stand on all fours, with his neck extended forward and his head tilted to one side, his tail pointing skywards. This was a much more comfortable pose and he couldn’t wait to get to it. The only trouble was, he’d twisted himself round and round like a corkscrew and he wasn’t sure he could untwist himself again.

He experimentally lifted a paw but it slid off in another direction than he expected. He was balanced precariously now and he could see disaster looming. He could see it in the Yoga Master’s face. He had a resigned air, as if to say, “It’s a miracle you got into that pose - I can’t see how you’re going to get out of it again.”

Without more ado he topped to the floor in a tangle of limbs.  He looked up in despair – what would his teacher say now?

 “VERY good,” cried the Yoga Master, greatly impressed. “Now you have mastered 'pose of the splatted squirrel'. Just relax and hold still while I take some notes.”

Dougal groaned and closed his eyes. To think that this had all started with an itch!

 

Bear Haiku

Some Bear Haiku - Haiku, for those not in the know, is a 3 line poem, first line is 5 syllables long, second line is 7 syllables and last line is 5 syllables.

See below for examples:

First poem (should be read in Japanese accent for best effect):

Japanese bear pome*
five syllable and seven
always about bears.

* (sorry had to 'cheat' but actually this is an authentic word in 'Bearspeak' meaning 'poem')

Long years of wisdom
belied by his furry face
hidden in his eyes.

Look at your teddy
Is he just a lifeless toy?
Or something much more...

Astonished round eyes
Reflect the light and shadow
In their button depths.

One ear flops forward
The other ear flops backwards
Can't help but love him!

Mysterious bear
So much hides in that stuffed head
Deep, timeless, knowledge.

A full tummied bear
Soporific, yawns and sighs
Time for a bear nap.

and on that note - I think.... bear bedtime! ;)

Hot-pen - Mouse and Bear story

Abracadabra! shouted the mouse. You once were a bear and now your a...

“CAT!” ........  “Oooooops!” The mouse gulped, his ears twitching madly. The question was – would the bear remember what a NICE mouse he was, how he had shown him the best places to find honey. Would he remember their games together and how Mouse ALWAYS let him win at chess? Or would his new ‘cat’ senses take over, would he suddenly find his old friend looked as tasty as a pot of honey always used to?

Mouse’s mind raced wildly. Mouse magic only lasted for half an hour – that was something, but half an hour was more than enough time to eat him. What could he do? There was only one thing for it. He looked up at his Bear-Cat friend and shouted loudly: “HELP! Next-doors dog is after us – RUN FOR THE MOUSEHOLE!” Bear-Cat’s eyes widened and he looked around him for the dog.

“No time to waste LOOKING!” shouted Mouse, as loudly as he could – “RUN!”

 Mouse and Bear-Cat ran for the mousehole. Bear, in the good old days was just of a size to fit in the door, now however he was a cat and cats do not fit in mouseholes. But he was running far too fast to stop.

SMACK! He hit his head on the wall above the mousehole and sunk to the floor.  Mouse cringed. He looked over at his friend who, it was plain would be ‘sleeping’ for  awhile.

“Sorry old chap,” he whispered  – “I couldn’t take the risk – you’d have felt terrible if you’d turned back into yourself and remembered that you’d had me for dinner.”

Then he went off and burnt his wand and all his magic books – there were some things that a mouse should leave well alone!

Hot -pen exercise No 1 - Gooey bear

Maria has kindly provided some sentences for some hot pen entertainment and playtime... so here is the first:

Gooey Bear, dipped his paw into the cake mixture while his mums back was turned. mmmm forbidden chocolate goo....

It always seemed to turn his hair bright pink but he couldn’t care about that right then. He dipped one paw in, then another. He slurped and slicked and slooped, til all the mixture was gone and he was a brown sticky mess.

Suddenly, panic overcame him. What would Mummy think when she returned? He had to cover his tracks. First he must get clean – he waddled over to the sink and heaved himself up onto the draining board; luckily the sink was full of soapy water. He closed his eyes and dived in.  A minute later a new squeaky-clean and goo-less version of himself was climbing back down and rushing over to the mixing bowl. All the goo was gone – a dead giveaway, BUT he had an idea. Emptying several tins of custard into the bowl he dyed it all brown with some Marmite and placed the spoon back in. No-one would ever know. He sat back in his chair and fixed an innocent expression onto his face.

GOOEY BEAR! hollered Mummy from the kitchen door – you NAUGHTY BOY! You’ve eaten all my cake mixture! Gooey bear’s face fell a mile. He shook his pink spiky head sadly... what was it about mothers – how did they always find you out?!

Latest News from DaBearHouse

Christmas is fast approaching and DaBearHouse is looking rather festive. Bears have a number of seasonal concerns. These matters will be raised at the weekly meeting. So far the agenda looks like this:

1. How soon can bears put on their Christmas hats and pose for pictures?
2. When will the house be empty over Christmas? A raid on the drinks cabinet is planned and party date needs confirming.
3. Annual Carol Concert - need to agree programme; usual furry favourites are:

• Ding Dong Bearily on High,
• In the Bleak Bear Winter,
• O Little Town of Bearyhem,  
• The Honey and the Ivy.

4. Christmas Grooming Session needs to be set up for all those with bow-tie issues, floppy ears, missing eyes and dusty fur. Bears want to look their best for the big day.

Bears have also decided to picket Mrs Bear on her next visit to the spare bedroom to demand Christmas waistcoats.

(NB Mrs Bear has now agreed to this demand and will start sewing. Waistcoats should be ready by Christmas 2015.)