The Ramsey Ridge Black Bear

 

The Ramsey Ridge Black Bear

"There aren't any bears in these woods!" said the kitten with 7 guns pointed at his head.

 Created with Microsoft Bing Image Creator

©01/07/2024, R. L. Whitmire, All Rights Reserved  

This story was refined with the help of AI language models

Note: This story is loosely based on true events. There is a place called Ramsey Ridge, known only to the owner of the land and his closest friends. There was a kitten that was making so much noise walking through the leaves that it, indeed, sounded like a black bear walking through the woods.

On a pleasant summer evening, the cool breeze swept through as Blake and his friends found themselves huddled around a crackling campfire. They had just wrapped up a tiring day of fishing at Ramsey Ridge Lake.

Ramsey Ridge Lake was a beautiful piece of land, spanning 80 acres and consisting of a 10-acre lake, 30 acres of woods, and 40 acres of farmland.

Blake, the owner of the land, was a retired truck driver and a competitive power-lifter. His friends, Bill, Roger, Ricky, Josh, John, and Marty, all had unique backgrounds and skills that made their friendship diverse and exciting.

As the flames danced and the aroma of roasted marshmallows filled the air, the friends shared stories about all the fish they caught.

Bill, a retired nuclear power plant maintenance supervisor and champion Olympic lifter, was renowned for his exceptional craftsmanship. He loved camping and always had all the tools for their excursions. He shouted out, "I caught the biggest bass!"

Roger, the childhood friend of Blake and Bill, was the "mayor" of Ramsey Ridge and a true outdoors man. He wasn't really the mayor, but all the guys decided to give him that moniker after he lost the local mayoral election in a nearby town. When Bill yelled out that he caught the largest bass, Roger replied, in that calm and collected voice that he always had, "No, I think it was Ricky who caught the largest bass."

Ricky, a retired manufacturing engineer and a world record holder for the bench press at 600 pounds, was a skilled guitarist and a close friend of Blake. They lifted weights together at Ricky's home. He looked at Roger and said, 'Nope, I didn't catch any bass, but I did catch a ton of crappie!'

Josh, Ricky's son, was a welder and self-proclaimed survivalist who excelled at fishing. He looked at Bill, smiled, and said in a voice mimicking Foghorn Leghorn, 'I do declare that it was I who caught the biggest bass.'

John, a retired truck driver and a friend of Blake, was a culinary expert and knew how to cook a delicious meal even in the middle of the woods. 'I didn't catch any fish, but I brought my homemade baked beans. I used my own secret recipe.' To which all the guys replied, 'What's the recipe?' John just smirked and said, 'Hells Bells, y'all know that I don't share my secret recipe!'

Marty, another retired truck driver and friend of Blake, loved strumming the guitar and was always ready to provide some entertainment. He was quietly listening to the banter back and forth, softly strumming his guitar. Finally, he shouted out, 'Well, I don't care who caught the biggest fish or even who caught the most fish! All I care about is, are we gonna have a fish fry tomorrow or what?'"

All the guys guffawed loudly, then Blake said, "Yes Marty, we're gonna have a fish fry."

Just as the night settled into a comfortable rhythm, the silence was broken by a peculiar sound. "Shh!" said Bill, raising his finger to his lips. "Everybody be quiet!" All the guys immediately stopped talking and tilted their heads, trying to hear what Bill had detected. Crunch! Crunch! Something big was walking through the woods. The cracking of twigs and leaves echoed through the night air, sending a shiver down their spines.

Then Ricky whispered, louder than what he had intended, "That sounds like a daggum bear!"

Immediately, the atmosphere turned tense. Blake spoke out loud. A bear?! If it's a bear, then it's most likely a black bear. There ain't no grizzly around for a thousand miles!

Then all seven guys stood up and pulled out their pistols. Bill and Blake, the most experienced shooters, clicked the safety off on their .45 caliber semi-automatic pistols. Roger, Ricky, and Josh swiftly flipped open the cylinders of their revolvers, ensuring they were "locked and loaded." Roger held his trusty Smith and Wesson .357 Magnum, Ricky had his .44 Special "Bulldog" loaded with +P hot rounds, and Josh carried his Dragoon .44 Magnum with a 7-inch barrel. John, not to be outdone, had his double-barrel 12-gauge coach gun at the ready, while Marty had his trusty .32 ACP Beretta.

Then Roger spoke out in a nervous voice, "Guys, I think it's illegal to shoot black bears in Illinois." But the guys weren't listening. Adrenaline coursed through their veins as the crunching leaves grew louder and louder, indicating that the "bear" was getting closer to them.

Then they all began to walk slowly toward the approaching noise, guns drawn. The intensity of the moment was palpable, as if time had frozen.

Then, suddenly, the crunching noise ceased. The guys halted in their tracks, their hearts pounding in their chests. Bill, the only one with a flashlight, scanned the area, trying to locate the source of the sound.

"There it is!" he shouted, his voice filled with a mix of relief and excitement.

All the guys lunged forward, pointing their guns at the perceived threat. Yet, to their astonishment, there was nothing there! The tension dissipated, and the night became eerily silent.

Then, about 2 feet in front of them, a soft, delicate mew broke the silence. "What in the world was that?" Blake asked, his voice filled with curiosity. Marty, always quick to solve a mystery, reached down and picked up a cute little black kitten. "It's a kitten!" he exclaimed. The guys burst out laughing, holstering their firearms, embarrassed by their fear of a small, totally black, frail kitten.

A bear! John exclaimed. Ha! Who was it that said they thought it was a bear? They all shouted, "It was Ricky!"

Back at the campfire, the sticky sweetness of marshmallows and laughter filled the air as the guys teasingly recounted the story. Every so often, one of the guys would shout out in a mocking voice, "It's a bear!" And then someone else would say, "Not just a bear, but a DAGGUM bear!"

They couldn't help but poke fun at each other for mistaking a tiny kitten for a ferocious black bear, joking that they were about to get devoured in their sleeping bags. After a while, Roger turned to Marty and asked, "What are you going to do with that stray kitten?"

Marty, holding little Bear close to his chest, replied with a smile, "This ain't no stray; this is my kitten, Ramsey Ridge Bear. I call him Bear for short. Ain't that right, Bear?" as he scratched the kitten's ears.

As the night grew darker and the fire slowly dwindled, the friends lingered, cherishing the bond they shared and grateful for the unexpected adventure they had, no matter how small it seemed. The Ramsey Ridge Black Bear became a legend, a reminder of that memorable night when fear turned to laughter, and the unknown revealed itself to be something much tamer than they had imagined.

 Created with Microsoft Bing Image Creator

“BEAR”