Next to a busy street, the land covered in wet branches, a perfume of the forest wafted over three soggy black bears with scents of rotting leaves and moist soil. The mother and her two cubs foraged for bitter berries in a rocky enclave. In June of 2019, I watched as they lumbered up the ridge, cars slowing to view them. We flashed our headlights to oncoming traffic to alert them of the three little bears.
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Goldilocks was Not a Victim
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Next to a busy street, the land covered in wet branches, a perfume of the forest wafted over three soggy black bears with scents of rotting leaves and moist soil. The mother and her two cubs foraged for bitter berries in a rocky enclave. In June of 2019, I watched as they lumbered up the ridge, cars slowing to view them. We flashed our headlights to oncoming traffic to alert them of the three little bears.