Helpfully, Brad pointed and said, "Look out the window."

So we all turned away from Brad and toward the window. Sure enough, there was a lanky, teenage black bear sitting in the grass about twenty feet from the window. A yearling out on its own. Another unsupervised youth loitering downtown.

We gasped. Then, as nature intended, we whipped out our phones and started filming.

The bear had come up from the river through a bunch of bushes to explore the narrow strip of lawn running behind the library. Over the next 20 minutes, it entered and exited the woods a few more times, emerging with its head and legs dripping wet. And we kept filming as some classic bear-like goofery ensued.

At one point, it walked right up to the window. We were just feet away from each other. I think the bear could only see its own handsome reflection until it got close enough. When it noticed us gawking at it, it gave a little jump and trotted back to the tree line.

Now contrary to popular rumors, I’m not dumb enough to go near a bear without some kind of barrier betwixt it and I. While filming our hairy friend, there was a thick pane of glass separating us. Plus, I was standing among many wonderful coworkers whom I could easily hide behind should the bear have exploded through the glass, mighty claws akimbo.

”

I slapped together a few clips, added some lazy jazz music, and typed, “Welcome to the li-bear-y.” And boom.

In mere moments I had a video that produced significantly more community engagement than any other video I’ll ever make no matter how hard I work on it.

MIKE PAULUS

BEAR-SPECIFIC CONTENT CREATOR, BASICALLY

But don’t worry. If I had found myself face-to-face with the bear, I’d have simply employed the many bear-related survival tips I’ve gleaned from countless unverifiable sources throughout my Midwestern life.
For example, I know I’m pretty sure you should make yourself “big.” Stand tall, raise your arms, widen your stance, and other such shenanigans. Black bears, you see, fear large, intimidating creatures.
And since I was at a library for this encounter, no problem. I’d just have shown the bear our collection of James Patterson books. Because it’s frickin’ huge. The bear would have been utterly terrified.

But enough with the factual speculation.

During the furry hurly-burly, multiple staffers called the cops. The Eau Claire Police Department said they were already aware of the bear (aka they were bear-aware), and they sagely advised us to tell our customers … don’t go near it. And that’s all they could really do. About the wild bear.

People, if there’s one thing I’ve learned while working at our public library, it’s this: librarians put up with a lot of crap encounter endless “duties as assigned.” I’m talking about stuff they don’t teach you in library school. Like de-escalating irate citizens. Like heading off a fight before it happens. Like containing strange, hazardous bodily fluids. Like trying to provide exceptional customer service to people living through the most desperate moments of their entire lives.

And, it seems, duties like telling people, “Hey. There’s a bear outside … don’t try to pet it.”

Part of my job at the library is to make short promotional videos. So later that night, after our ursine saga had concluded, I looked over my video footage. I slapped together a few clips, added some lazy jazz music, and typed, “Welcome to the li-bear-y.” And boom. In mere moments I had a video that produced significantly more community engagement than any other video I’ll ever make no matter how hard I work on it.

Anyway, our fuzzy buddy was spotted a few more times after its library visit. I assume it found its way beyond the city limits to wherever it is bears tend to max and relax. I hope so, anyway.

Farewell, bear. It was nice to meet you.