One morning as we were packing the boats, a young brown bear (just a little guy...maybe only 700 pounds or so) came walking along the other side of the river in search of breakfast.  He did not see us.  All was going well until he was 100 yards or so upstream, at which time he decided to cross over to our side.  At first we thought the current was going to carry him past us, but when he was only 100 feet away we realized that he would come ashore exactly where we were*.  Not until we bounced a stick (seen in the lower middle photo) off of his noggin and began yelling did he realize we were there.  He climbed onto the bank only 50 feet away, took one look at us and—realizing that we were some pretty tough hombres—hightailed it for the woods.  We all felt bad about messing up his morning stroll.

  * That was what I call a "Custer moment," namely that moment when you suddenly realize that, as I'm sure Custer did on his last day, things are not going as planned.