Fight or Flight or Freeze

What do you do when you are faced with a bear?

When you stumble and trip and scrape your knee, when you look up after a few muttered curses directly into the dark, fathomless eyes of a wildlands creature, close enough that its sweetgrass smell tickles the hais within nose, close enough that you fear it will sneeze on you if your breathe too heavily, what do you do?

For some, the answer is flight. Some will bite back a scream, hunch their shoulders forwards as if warding against some invisible chill, drop eye contact as if participating in an awkward blind date, and carefully inch backwards. When the space between them and the bear has been deemed far enough, they will carefully rise. First, onto their knees, and then onto their feet. Watching, waiting, terrified. When the bear tilts his head, ever so slightly to the side, and for just a second, it seems as if this wild creature is asking you what you are doing out here, so far from where you belong, they will bolt. They will leave behind the bag they’d brought out into the wilderness, filled with dried berries and nuts and granola, and they will run for their lives. Some will chance one last glimpse at their perilous brush with the unknown and loosen in relief. Some will never look back.

For others, the answer is fight. Perhaps it is the proximity with a beast so native and unchained, or perhaps it is simply the way they are, but instinct will take over and they will lash out. A fist will fly, a knee will jerk. Delicate human skin connecting with thick brown fur. It’s fruitless, stupid, irresponsible. But it’s the only way they know how to interact with their environment. In the presence of fear, they deny the fear so entirely they forget it, and they attack, instead. A muffled shout, a desperate gambit, an impossible stand. They won’t know when to stop. They will keep throwing themselves into near-inevitable doom, with only pure brawn and primal instinct and ragged shreds of hope to hold them aloft.

Then, there are those who will freeze. While their minds race and adrenaline streams through their bloodstream in acidic plumes, their bodies will forgo all direction and lock up. Fear knows no superior. The bear will stare them down, will blink once and then twice, and they will sit there, knee bleeding freely now, as they look their fate directly in the eyes and play no part in its unravelling. They will accept the outcome handed to them, rather than march into the kitchen and declare themselves chef. They will exist, and be, and remain.

But what of the bear? You can choose any action you wish, any prayer you know, any Boy Scout trick you remember, but ultimately, the bear gets a turn, too.

So here’s another question.

What will the bear do when faced with you?