The animal pointed at the cub with her paw. The little one whimpered softly. And then I saw it — a piece of wire was stuck on its back.
An old trap had dug deep into its skin, leaving a nasty wound. Now I understood why they had come. The bear took a step back and gave a low growl, as if warning me: “Careful.”
I raised my hands to show I meant no harm and slowly knelt down.
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’ll help.”
The cub trembled but didn’t move. I carefully grabbed the wire, pulled… and freed it.
The cub squealed in pain, and at that very moment, the bear roared and rose up on her hind legs. I froze. “I’m just saving it!” I said loudly, trying to sound calm, without fear in my voice.
The bear stood there for a few seconds more, then dropped back down and looked at me again. This time, there was trust in her eyes. I called to my wife:
“Bring the bandages!
And the first aid kit, quickly!”
Together we treated the cub and bandaged the wound. All the while, the mother stood nearby, motionless. Only her heavy breathing could be heard — she watched every move I made.
When we were done, I slowly stepped back. The bear carefully picked up her cub and, without looking back, disappeared into the forest. It’s been several weeks since then.
Sometimes, in the mornings, my wife and I see fresh tracks near the porch. And every time, I smile — because now I know who left them. 🐻🌲
