I stepped outside and saw a huge bear standing on the porch, holding a cub in its jaws: As I stared at them in shock, the mother bear gently set the cub down on the ground — and then did something completely unexpected
My wife and I had moved to the mountains almost a month earlier. We were both tired of the city — the constant noise, the traffic, the neighbors through the walls. Here, everything was different: fresh air, the scent of pine trees, peace and quiet, broken only by the crackling of the fireplace at night.
Our lives had finally found the rhythm we had always dreamed of. But one day, everything changed.
For several days in a row, we noticed footprints near the porch. At first, we thought they were from squirrels or maybe raccoons. Then — perhaps foxes.
But as time went on, the tracks became larger… and fresher. I hoped they weren’t from wolves — or, worse, a bear. But I was wrong.
That morning, I went outside to bring in some firewood. The moment I opened the door, I froze.
Right in front of me, on the wooden porch, stood a massive brown bear. And in her mouth — a tiny cub.
My breath caught in my throat. The bear didn’t growl, didn’t move. She just stood there, looking straight into my eyes.
I remembered all the advice about what to do when meeting a bear: don’t move, don’t scream, don’t make eye contact… but I already was.
The bear slowly took a step forward. My heart was pounding in my chest.
“This is it,” I thought. “It’s over.”
But then, the bear gently set the cub down on the ground. I thought she wanted to attack me and was freeing her mouth first. But then she did something completely unexpected
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.