Flour had some bugs in it and was left on the porch... on the 2nd night this guy came along and took it!

My dog started barking (inside) I went to investigate... saw the flour trailing away from the front door and realized what had happened. As I went back up the stairs to go back to sleep I realized no raccoon or small critter could have taken that FULL 15lb (I think?) flour. I decided to grab my streamlight ultra stinger and see if anything was outside... and this what I saw just barely. The picture was taken when I got my camera and 2nd streamlight ultra stinger... barely enough light for a picture.

The camera flash scared him away but he came back shortly, and then got scared again... I lost interest went to bed while the wife continued to watch... he came back again she yelled at him and he ran away and I got to sleep again yay!

My dog can sure smell him out there now though, and when he stops to smell something on the mountain I wonder if the bear is back or visiting neighbors..

Gonna have to keep a careful eye on the garden *fenced*.

Anyway, thought you all would enjoy the pic and story.

Oh, and the bear was approx 75ft away. I took the pic from my 2nd story bedroom window on the side of the house. We have no front windows over there, and no outside lights, and it was PITCH black except for my two flashlights.

Reminds me of a funny story.....back in 1980, I traveled from Florida to Pennsylvania right before the 4th of July, with my friend in his Cutlas supreme. We went thru Georgia, I think it was, got about $200 worth of fireworks, and put them in the backseat. The trunk was full of stuff, seeing as how we were going for the whole month. We got onto the Blue Ridge parkway, don't ask me where, and drove and drove. That was the first time on the Parkway and I fell in love with it. It got dark, and we were very tired, so we decided to pull over and get a couple hours sleep. About a mile before turning off, we saw a black bear meander across the rode.
Now, the cutlas back then had bench style front seats, and my friend got the front seat, and I had to sleep in the back, ON TOP of all the fireworks, with my feet sticking out the window because that was the only way to get comfortable! I told him if you wake up with me scremaing, just start the car and GO! I took off my shoes hoping the smell might put off any bear that might get any ideas.
Since then, I've been on the parkway a lot more, seen quite a few bears, and have a deep respect for both.

That's sort of an interesting photo--like the opposite of a polar bear on the ice--an all-black bear except for the one white spot on its snout.

Guess he didn't mind the bugs.

That reminds me of a funny situation in 1990. I was hunting with a friend up near Northport Washington. We were sleeping in my buddy's pickup (he'd built a sleeper cabin for the back and I took the bench in the cab). Being a tall fellow, I wasn't able to stretch out too well, so I propped up against the driver side door and tried to catch some winks. About 2 in the morning, I awoke to the sound of whooshing outside the passenger side of the truck. Opening my tired lids, I tried to focus on what was making the noise, and was quite startled to see a huge head with big black eyes and clouds of steam bellowing at the window; those eyes staring at me. As my mind violently snapped into reality, it took about 5 seconds of holding my breath while waiting for my heartbeat to return before I realized the face staring in at me from the cold black night was bovine in nature.

Apparently about the time reality caught up to me, the cow face must've decided that the truck did not smell like sweet meadow grass and so he moved on. The adrenalin induced expletives that flowed forth as my farewell to my nocturnal visitor caused my buddy to join in with a few of his own for waking him from sound slumber. Needless to say, the next morning was not one of my more memorable hunting events.

My first duty assignment was Airstation Kodiak. And, like everybody else I felt dutybound to buy a 'bar rifle.' Mine was a 98 mauser with 26" tube, Lyman ghost peep, checkered steel buttplate, french grey and circassion walnut beauty with 85 rounds of 200 grain Bitterroot handloads.
Then I had to finance a guided hunt. So I took a off duty job cleaning the base exchange after hours. I was putting a final buff on a completely stripped and waxed mezzanine in the half light of winter.

I backed into the taxidermied brown bear standing on rear legs, upraised forepaws and snarling so hard it began rocking slightly. I saw it's moving upraised forepaw in the corner of one eye, freaked out and ran, sliding in my socks on that fresh floor wax and slamming into the opposite wall.I may have screamed. I stared from my sitting position at my 'adversary' looked around to see if anyone was looking in at 2A.M. and blushed.

I soon financed my hunt and after an exausting stalk found myself looking through the peep at a stunning and rare blue phase brownie- eating sedge grass and rolling on his back.Taxidermists never mount brownies on their backs with grass in their mouths. I said bang! turned to my guide and shook hands. He laughed and said he really hated shooting them too.
My hunting ethic led me to meet Bart the Bear, Douglas Peacock and
( unfortunaltly) Timothy Treadwell. All in all, it's been a fair exchange.

I still have my first rifle too AND 20 of those original rounds. Somebody mentioned to the dumb kid Bitterroot bullets are hand made.

What a great story and the old adage rings true, "No pictures, didn't happen"