There was a low drawn-out raging growl. A crashingsound. A flash of black crossed the window. A loud thump. Thensilence.

Stan still holding the shot gun at the window. Therewas no time to fire. He knew there would be only seconds to reloadif he did fire. And that might be too long. If he had to shoot it,he needed to take one shot.

They slowly continued to the back porch and looked inthrough the open back door. It was large, black, and laying on thefloor. Stan held the shotgun on it. It laid on the floor and didn'tmove.

Stan entered the kitchen and pushed its back with hisboot. It did not move. No sign of life.

Bears had been on their farm before, looking forfood. Normally they would lock themselves in the house. The bearswould wander around outside until they decided to leave. Stan andKate figured because of the storm last night this one was desperatefor food. Since they have lived in the mountains of Colorado forseven years, this was easily understood by both Kate and Stan. Butthree month old Mary has still to learn about bears. Mary had beenoutside with Kate when she first saw the bear. There was no time toreach the house. So the barn was the only choice.

But this didn't explain why the bear was dead. Therewas no sign of injury. Then Kate looked at the remaining of thecake she had baked that morning. The cake sat on the kitchencounter half eaten. Stan looked at the half eaten cake on thekitchen counter.

Kate said, "That was a killer of a cake. I can neverget the frosting right."

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Also by Don Fern

The Sea Explorer

Short Story Mixture

Images in Poems