For weeks, environmentalists, the press, the home where he was raised in Italy speculated, hypothesized and searched for the missing “rampaging” Bruno. Germany hadn’t seen a bear in its realms since 1835. Some farmers got upset over their losses in poultry and sheep. Others claimed that he had scratched their cars. Germans consider their cars shrines, so that was no less than sacrilege.
Recently, a Finnish team was after its tracks. This weekend, the Bavarian government authorized hunters to shoot the bear on sight. When the order was signed (the German government doesn’t work on Sundays), the bear was already dead…
I must admit when I heard the news this morning on the radio, I had to weep for the death of hope for brown bears in a world where we have made all species, including our own, foreign and unworthy.
Today, two years ago, in 2003, I arrived to what would become my home for a still undeterminate length of time, perhaps several years, perhaps till the end.
Today, almost two years after my wedding, and almost half a year since the other wedding, the prospect of children is more and more certain. Perhaps one day they will read these postings and wonder even more who their father is, or was, or will be.
The longer I spend here, the longer I realize that, finally, I found home, that a long life of nomadism has finally ended. I have never spent more than seven years in the same place. If five more years go by and I’m still here, the record will have been broken. We shall see.