Most of my friends who write for a living reside outside of Seattle, Los Angeles, New York, or Denver. Our home is only ten miles from the center of Anchorage, with a population of 330,000, where we have three four-star restaurants and a performing arts center where Hamilton is now playing.
That’s where our home is, but we prefer our remote log cabin on a pristine river two hours by plane from Anchorage, where we are connected to the wilderness, to moose, lynx, ravens, foxes, wolves and eagles. Looking out over the river we see the swirls of thousands of salmon making their way to spawn and eventually to die. The world as planned during its creation is one of beauty, survival, simplicity, and brutality.
We get to know our neighbors. We recognize certain eagles and ravens and grey jays who make a living around our cabin. Sprue grouse feed on spruce needles and plant tips all winter, and on salmonberries, cranberries and blueberries in the summer. Moose are browsers, their favorite meals include fresh summer grass, but their everyday diet is the new growth on willow trees.
Others feed on the browsers. That is a more violent experience. We’ve watched cow moose repeatedly charge wolves and brown bears to protect their newborns. Sometimes they fail. Even when the mass of salmon arrives in our valley there can be conflict. Brown bears will stake out the best fishing sites, generally small tributaries, or shallow riffles where the bear's speed gives them an advantage over swimming salmon. Usually, the first bears in those areas are sows with cubs. The females will fight to protect the best fishing areas, but almost always they will be pushed out by larger and stronger males. (The good news for them is that by the time that happens, there are so many fish in the river that they can feed their young almost anywhere.)
At the height of the salmon run, we experience what many call, ‘survival of the fittest,’ where the strongest and most powerful bears, sometimes sows, will fight brutally to protect their easy meals. Meet SCARFACE, not the largest bear in the valley, but huge, probably weighing more than 800 pounds. SCARFACE has a reputation for being fearless and we’ve never seen him lose a battle. He wears the disfigurement of dozens of wounds, ripped skin, torn ears, slashed legs and chewed feet. He’s earned and proudly displays every one of those blemishes. His years of fighting against extraordinary odds means he seldom needs to fight anymore. His mere presence assures him of dominance. He’s also known to just lie on the bank and sleep while other bears use his fishing hole.
In the world most of us live in, people who have the strength to overcome, whose wounds become learning experiences have a leg up. SCARFACE has earned a tame and abundant life, but from time to time we see inexperienced bears watching him and can almost read their minds thinking, ‘that’s not fair.’ Unlike the human world, the concept of ‘that’s not fair’ doesn’t offer any solace. Not all successful Americans earned their success. Some born with a silver spoon in their mouth try to tell us that they put it there themselves. But overall, if more of us fought as hard as SCARFACE, if instead of success envy we studied it and emulated it, most of us would reach a point where life offered more abundance and peace.
Anyway, I just wanted to introduce you to an acquaintance who I have great respect for.