The What the Everloving Heck? Department: The Bear, the SUV, and the Missing Chapter

A Colorado bear trapped in an SUV makes perfect sense. The homeowner's reaction? That's where the mystery begins.

I have absolutely no questions about the bear.

I grew up watching The Yogi Bear Show. Yogi and Boo Boo taught me everything I needed to know about bears decades ago. Bears are endlessly fascinated by human beings because we have an astonishing habit of leaving perfectly good food lying around. Picnic baskets. Coolers. Trash cans. Campgrounds. Cars.

If I were a bear, I'd probably check the SUV, too.

According to a recent news story, a black bear in Colorado climbed into an unlocked SUV. The door closed behind him, trapping him inside. In his understandable desire to escape, he managed to lean on the horn. Repeatedly.

All.

Night.

Long.

The bear's behavior is completely logical.

He went exploring. He got trapped. He panicked. He blared the horn because, frankly, what else was available? He wasn't exactly going to roll down the window and wave for assistance.

This is where the article refuses to cooperate. It tells me there was a bear. It tells me there was an SUV. It tells me the horn blasted through the night.

What it does not tell me is why no one thought, "Perhaps I should investigate the vehicle that has apparently decided to announce its existence to the entire county."

That tiny omission has become the only part of the story I care about.

If my vehicle started honking in the middle of the night, I wouldn't be lying in bed wondering which neighbor was having a rough evening. I'd be looking out the window before the third blast. By the fifth, I'd be outside with a flashlight, my bathrobe, and enough misplaced confidence to believe I could solve whatever was happening.

Instead, this story skips straight from "the horn honked all night" to "the bear was discovered the next morning."

Wait.

What?

The article refuses to cooperate.

Maybe the owner looked outside and couldn't see anything in the dark. Maybe the SUV was parked farther away than I'm imagining. Maybe there are perfectly reasonable details that simply didn't make it into the story.

But the article isn't interested in those details. It wants me to focus on the bear. I'm focused on the missing chapter.

The bear, meanwhile, was just doing bear things. Yogi would have checked the SUV. Boo Boo probably would have suggested they move along before Ranger Smith showed up. Instead, this poor fellow accidentally locked himself inside and spent the night performing what may be Colorado's longest one-bear horn solo.

Eventually, the homeowner opened the door from a safe distance, and the bear ran back into the woods.

The SUV suffered considerable damage.

The bear suffered considerable distress.

And I am left with one lingering thought.

The bear makes perfect sense.

The people are still a mystery.

The article refuses to cooperate.

Apparently, Yogi left out a few details. If you spend time in bear country, Living With Bears Handbook offers practical tips for keeping your vehicle, campsite, and picnic basket from becoming a bear's next adventure.

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