4. TIME TRAVELLER

LUKE, TIME TRAVELLER

When we get word that the last of the hunters have flown out of the area and we can safely shift again, it is always a huge relief. We go through this every year and it never gets any easier but not shifting is just the safest way to go to try to ensure none of us accidentally gets shot. None of us wants to die and nobody wants to reveal our secret either so it’s just easiest and best for everyone if our animal halves go into ‘hibernation’ for that time period, as much as they hate it.

Not being able to shift is tough on everyone.

It makes everyone short-tempered and for us bears, that is saying something when you consider we’re generally a miserable group at the best of times. Not shifting means less opportunities to relieve any pent-up anger or aggression, which usually results in more fights this time of year. Nobody can help themselves, and it only gets worst until the hunters leave. Then the forests fill with shifters of every variety, everyone gets along and nobody cares about territories – everyone is simply happy and relieved to let their animals loose again, the politics don’t matter.

At least for a few hours.

Bears join other bears as well as normally solitary cougars, packs of wolves, single coyotes, lynxes and even families of foxes run and play with their confused, wild cousins as shifters everywhere unite in our one commonality. Winter will be upon us quickly and while some of our wild versions will hibernate, none of us shifters do – the human halves of us countering all of those primal instincts. Bears are normally solitary creatures but as shifters, we have a small community on Sebestyen Island in northern Saskatchewan. Three times a year we get fresh supplies from a plane that delivers to a nearby lodge, otherwise we’re self-sufficient due to our isolation. We use solar panels and generators for power, boil water for drinking, and have a satellite phone for outside communication when we need it.

For example, getting the great news that the last of the hunters are gone and our supplies are in.

“Did you order salmon jerky? I loooooooved salmon jerky,” my bear ‘Chase’ reminds me for the hundredth time. We don’t have far to go to get to the lodge but it takes time when you’re doing it manually, by canoe. We don’t have an ‘Alpha’ like wolves do, since we live communally – if there is a disagreement those two fight it out until it’s settled otherwise everyone tends to get along. For this trek I volunteered, along with four others – no one has to do anything which is why we volunteer – so far it has worked.

“I did not order salmon jerky, we can make ourselves,” I remind ‘Chase’. Ever since he discovered the wonderful world of jerky, I’ve purchased a food dehydrator and made all types of snacks. Not surprisingly, ‘Chase’ also likes the dried fruits. As I take in the breath-taking scenery around me, the cold air biting into my skin, I’m astounded once again that I’m having such a ridiculous mental conversation with my bear in the middle of the woods.

Just another thing a bear does in the woods.

“Seriously? You went there?” ‘Chase’ asks, rolling his eyes. Laughing out loud, the other shifters look at me like I’ve grown a second head. I shake my head, discouraging them from asking me questions and they go back to their own thoughts as we persistently paddle along. The water is already beginning to freeze over in small sections and soon Mother Nature will stroll through with her white coat of hoar frost and ice.

It only takes us a few hours to reach the lodge, sitting nestled amongst the trees with smoke pouring out of its’ chimneys. Additional smoke can be seen further back in the trees, likely from other cabins being used by staff who stay year-round. As we pull up to the dock, our contact, Quentin, meets us out front. Quentin has been running the lodge for longer than I’ve been around and must be pushing eighty by now but doesn’t look a day over sixty. He helps us bring the canoes ashore and greets us all by name, remembering us each easily despite his age and the length since our last visit.

“You should secure your crafts and spend the night, you’re not going to load up and make it back before dark and I think we’re going to have a storm tonight,” Quentin says ominously. I nod my head in tentative agreement, also feeling the change in the atmosphere.

“Thank you, Quentin, we would appreciate that. I agree with you, I think something is about to roll in,” I state, almost tasting the snow in the air. The shifters with me also agree, not wanting to face a storm unnecessarily and we all head into the lodge. Quentin quickly sorts out rooms for each of us, insisting there will be no charge.

“Go and get settled, I’ll see if Jules is available to help with some supper for you boys,” he tells us. We insist we don’t want him to go to any trouble but he promises us it’s not a problem, they have to eat too so in the end we head to our rooms to rest and wash up before dinner. Having nothing to change into, I do more relaxing than anything and in less than a couple of hours there is a knock on my door and a shout telling me ‘dinner!’ is ready.

A nice, quiet dinner sounds perfect.