Barry and I are out with Rambler and Rowdy, walking the cutbanks trail and picking wild cranberries. .It really doesn't get any better than this. Two llama friends for company, fall leaves and warm sunshine, the mighty Fraser River far below, and visions of rows of sparkling, tangy, garnet- red, wild cranberry jelly on my pantry shelf. This wonderful day will be captured in jars, to take out and enjoy at our leisure during the long winter to come

We walk slowly, wanting to prolong our outing. The berries are not plentiful and I assume other pickers have been here before us. We are really going to have to hunt for our ice-cream pails full this year. Rambler and Rowdy are enjoying themselves as much as we are, wandering from one tasty morsel to the next, sampling leaves, bark, moss and grasses, a veritable smorgasborg.They are unburdened with packs today and there is no rush to reach base camp by nightfall. This day is pure relaxation for us all.

But then I notice Rambler becoming a bit tense. He tugs on the lead rope, almost spilling my berry pail. I stop and turn to study him as he freezes in the full-alert stance, pointing to a patch of cranberries off to my left, about a hundred feet distant. Rambler takes a deep breath and trumpets the alarm call, startling me.

The bushes shake, and a glossy black bear stands up in the middle of the patch, staring at us. I chuckle to myself at the bear's look of astonished confusion. I glance at Barry, the old bushman, to confirm my assessment of the situation and am reassured. He is smiling also. The bear is no threat to us, merely very curious.

The bear drops down to all fours and makes a wide circle around behind us to sniff our tracks and try to solve the puzzle. Since the bear is now behind us, the llamas are quite willing to go forward. Rambler is wide-eyed and quivering, dancing nervously and crowding me from behind. The bear has now disappeared into the thick timber, moving at an angle away from us.

We continue our leisurely walk, picking as we go, but Rambler is jumpy and watchful. The trail is rough - crisscrossed with roots and dotted with deep mudholes from the long wet spell this past summer. A squirrel suddenly darts out of the bushes behind Rambler's back legs. It's all the excuse he needs. His mind is still in "bear mode". He bolts.

I am afraid to let Rambler's rope go. Normally he would not leave us but he's been upset by the bear and I don't know what he will do. I hang on tightly but he has caught me off balance. I know now how a water skier feels.

Rambler tows me down the trail at a panicked run. My left hand is outstretched , trying to balance my almost-full pail of hard-won berries. I leap over roots and rocks in a frantic attempt to remain upright, slow Rambler down, and save the berries. I have not run this fast in at least 20 years. I am flying.Rambler tows me right through the middle of the mudholes. I am scrambling for footing, face, hair, and glasses plastered with muddy water but I am still clutching the ice-cream pail. Rambler finally slows when he realizes that he is only being pursued by me, not the bear. At least, I guess it's me. Puffing wildly, scratched and mud-spattered with dignity injured, I angrily turn to Barry and ask why he didn't come to the rescue.

Says he couldn't. Laughing too hard.

Oh, well, it has still been a wonderful day. And I didn't spill the berries.

Bev Henry - Email Bev

Valiente Working Llamas

Prince George, B.C.

Canada