I used to be a very brash young man that loved to challenge everything and even put my own life on the line just for the thrill of the adventure.  I use to think of myself at that stage in my life as the adrenalin junky.  But most of the things we did were just foolish undertakings of boys wanting to be men.
	Like the time we heard of friend's father who had shot and stuffed a bear.  Well that was to much for our teenage imagination and the likes of us, so two others and myself took off to hunt the grandfather bear that lived in the northern high mountains near our homes.  Well we had never hunted bear before but how hard could it be.  With all our great years of wisdom we came up with a plan, since I had the least amount of experience in hunting and only a 30-30 rifle I would walk down the center of the canyon were we had found bear sign and make a lot of noise and herd the bear down the canyon.  What a great plan!  My companions would walk just a little ahead of me at the top of the canyon walls and shoot the bear when they got a clear shot.  Well I could hardly wait for my friends to get into position so we could start our great hunt of grandfather bear.  With everyone in position I started moving up the canyon yelling and beating the brush, this was great fun.  I just knew that old bear would be running down the canyon in view of my friends any time now.
	A bit of time passed when I noticed my friend on the right falling behind me a little so I shouted to him to move up and all he did was nod in recognition.  Well that was just fine by me, cause I was beginning to believe that old bear wasn't even in this canyon, but I kept waving for my friend to move up and he kept waving for me to move on.  I was spending so much of my attention watching him that I froze when I heard the deepest grunt of my life vibrate the hair on the back of my neck.  I slowly looked over my left shoulder to see that big, that very big old bear swaying back and forth and looking at ME.  I didn't waste one more minute and turned and started backing away and moving steadily faster down the canyon.  I think the bear was just glad I was leaving his area and I didn't stop moving until I reached the end of the canyon an sat with my back to a tree facing back toward the canyon watching and waiting.
	When my friends caught up with me (by the way none of us ever took a shot at that bear) I had cooled down and only threatened them with slow torture for not warning me.  But by the time we had almost returned home we had convinced ourselves that we were again great bear hunters and that bear had narrowly escaped us.  Funny thing is I don't remember ever going bear hunting again or telling our parents or even the neighbor that I borrowed the rifle from, of our great hunt.