Clinton, South Carolina, Tuesday, May 21, 2019, 12:55 p.m.

A black bear visited this weekend, which was quite the rage. I’ve lived here most of my life, and I’ve never seen a bear anywhere other than in the Blue Ridge Mountains. It seems that motorists saw the rummaging rascal on Saturday out near our interstate highways, 26 and 385, that come together about a mile away.

Then, on Sunday, the bear ventured into Clinton proper, and the S.C. Department of Natural Resources blocked off Davidson Street until 6 p.m. They did it to give the bear time to wander off somewhere else. The bear didn’t do anything wrong. He probably just got some weird sensation while he was padding along the banks of Duncan Creek or the Enoree River.

Local citizens have been advised to take down their bird feeders, clean their grills and don’t leave the dog’s food out in the yard. Bears won’t hurt anybody as long as nobody trifles with them. Then again, I heard the same thing about alligators when I was visiting Florida.

Some of the local speculation has been that the bear might have been drawn into the city limits by the delicious aroma of the barbecue being grilled uptown on Friday and Saturday at the Rhythm on the Rails festival. I was there, and the combination of barbecue and good music can be irresistible.

Naturally, I got to thinking. I’m a writer, and truth often inspires fiction in my mind.

What if, right in the middle of Lee Roy Parnell’s concert, with West Main Street packed with people, pop-up tents and food trucks, that bear had come trotting down North Broad and hung a right where the barbecue smoke took him?

It might have been similar to the final scenes of Animal House.

Remain calm. All is well.

 

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