Lara Tupper: Swift Ink Stories

Making tracks.

Two weeks ago, after a dusting of April snow, I heard a raucous thump on our deck: a black bear, seeking stray birdseed. My first thought: Take a photo. My phone was within reach. But I stopped myself, not wanting sudden motion to scare the bear away. I gaped, frozen behind the glass sliding door, as she clamored across the boards and was gone. 

It was an incredible moment, and of course I couldn't wait to text friends. I wondered about my initial instinct to capture the experience digitally and found I wasn't alone in this urge. Did you get a photo? my friends wanted to know. We crave visual evidence, as though the experience itself isn't enough.

I tried to create evidence by journaling about what I'd heard and seen instead. Now I can't stop thinking about the encounter, perhaps because I had to recall it from memory.

When I did retrieve my phone, here's what I caught, above. This footprint, to me, is more evocative than the bear photo might have been. It leaves room for …