Yes, campers, it's true.  Grizzly Flats did not get its name because of its bunny population (to my knowledge, it does not have one - a bunny population, that is - but that's beside my point here).  Nor did it get its name because of the raccoons or the mule deer.  It's not called "Mule Deer Flats" and there is a reason for that.  We have bears.  Real bears.  Big ass bears.  Bears that will pick the lock on your house, eat up your porridge, then head into the bedroom and crawl under the covers with you.  Bears.  That's right...of the "Brown Bear" variety.

Look around you, my little puppykins.  You live in the mountains.  Along with living in the mountains (well, technically, we are on the mountain, I guess... in the mountain might be a bit claustrophobic) comes living with (or in some cases, in) mountain lions.  They look like this:

By and large, mountain lions do not want to eat you.  They want to eat your cats and will do so like popcorn if they are outside a good bit, as mine tend to be.  They do not, however, as a rule, want to eat you or your very own babies or elderly ancestors.  The only time they will usually attack humans is if they are sick, if they are starving (you'd lower your menu standards too in a tough winter) or if they are protecting their young. 

They are, however, quite intimidating.  A few days ago, one of our own Grizzly Flats neighbors had a close encounter of the lion variety.  As the snow has melted somewhat, she has learned that she no longer had to use 4-wheel drive to get up into her driveway if she just gunned the engine really hard and barreled up to the house full steam ahead.  As she was doing this, she happened to see that there was a good sized mountain lion up by her house with its teenaged offspring (or, perhaps, its much younger husband - this is the only time, incidentally, that a "mountain lion" is to be confused with a "cougar," which is a hot older woman who likes to date young, tasty men).  Seeing a big ol' mountain lion up by her front porch gave her pause for freaking out and she slammed on the brakes in mid-barrel up the driveway.  This resulted in the car getting stuck in the slush and refusing to move, as well as a good bit of bet-taking and elbow nudging from the 2 healthy mountain lions patrolling the front of her house.  After several attempts to get the car to move rather than running in place, our intrepid heroine settled herself in for a 2-3 hour wait in the car on the thought that the lions might get bored and leave.  Apparently, mountain lions are very patient (I'll bet that whole "protecting their young" thing came into her head with the "young" being present) and decided to wait her out, so there she sat, the poor darlin.  Eventually, she got up and went into the house, but not after wishing she'd brought a long book along for that trip out and about.

The good folks at Yosemite have give us cautionary instructions just in case a mountain lion should get froggy and decide, I dunno, to kill us or something.  Here are their recommendations:

You want to face the lion dead on.  Look square it right in the eye.  They respect that.  If you turn tail and run like hell, they will chase you purely because it's just the most fun they can possibly have in a day and it makes for great storytelling around the drunken mountain lion fire later that night.  Wave your arms up and down and make a lot of noise.  Supposedly, this fools them into thinking that you are a giant, loud grouse or something.  Don't bend over to pick up nearby children because then you aren't looking Mr. Mountain Lion in the eyes.  Hold the lion's steely, chop-licking gaze as you stoop down and pick up the kids, as many of them as you can.  Lastly, according to the (very real, I'm not kidding) sign, should the lion actually attack, just positively kick its everlovin' ASS.  That "playing dead" stuff doesn't work on mountain lions.

Now of course, how could we possibly let this sign go unaltered?  We need our own Grizzly Flats rules for the engagement of mountain lions and as always, I am here but to serve you, friends.  (Or in the case of mountain lion encounter, possibly serve my friends to them.  I once suggested to Andrea that while we were out walking, it was altogether possible we could encounter a mountain lion or a bear and she dryly pointed out that if we did, she didn't have to be fast, just faster than me.)  So here are some other ideas for how that sign could read.  Talk amongst yourself:

Off to the bus stop:

Then there are always the *sigh* purists:

I like this one best:

Thusly ends Mountain Lion Strategy 101.