My daughter and two grandsons joined me on a nature walk over our Fourth of July vacation at our northern Wisconsin cabin. It’s difficult to hold the attention of a ten- and thirteen-year-old boy, so I planned a scavenger hunt that would include wildlife stories. The first challenge was to spot “the hanging tree.” My ten-year-old grandson’s eyes grew wide. “Hanging tree?”

He wanted more details. “You know,” I said, “like in the old westerns.”

He still stared at me blankly. I wasn’t doing so well here. I wanted to point out the tree to tell the boys I’d once seen two bald eagles perched on the dead branches.

We left the road and traveled down the logging road where I’d last seen it. To my dismay, I couldn’t find the tree. It must have fallen. So much for my story. I’d have to think of something else.

A ha! Just ahead, I once paused to pick blueberries. I was sampling them when I looked up and locked eyes with a black bear, also picking blueberries. I was ready to dramatize the story when the ten-year-old called to me. “Grammy, is this where you met the bear?”

My shoulders slumped. They’d heard my blueberry-picking-bear story before.

When we passed a stand of white pines, I showed them where I’d flushed ruffed grouse. A clearing allowed me to tell about seeing a turkey in the spring trying to keep track of her eight poults. Near a brushy area, I got to point out where I spotted a ten-point buck lying in the grass. They listened politely, but I caught a yawn.

I needed something more hair-raising.

My older grandson heard a twig snap and rustling. He walked down an opposite path to investigate. The rest of us kept chatting and hiking until he urgently called, “Come here! Quick! A beaver is climbing a tree.”

We joined him and he helped us spot the creature. “Beavers don’t climb trees,” I said, as we watched an animal the color of a beaver move slowly up the tree. “It acts like a porcupine, and I’ve seen them in this area. I squint my eyes. “That looks like fur, though, not quills.”

I stayed back to get a photo while my daughter and her boys made their way through the brush and blueberry bushes to the base of the tree to get a better look. The creature had darker areas by its eyes. “Maybe it’s a raccoon,” I  called to them. The more I studied it though, it wasn’t gray like a raccoon and didn’t move like one. People have spotted pine martins in this area, but this creature was too roly-poly for the weasel-like pine martin. A fisher? It too, would be rare and weasel-like and wouldn’t we see its long tail? “A woodchuck?” I said aloud, without confidence. I’d never seen woodchucks in the area and they rarely climbed trees.

The creature reluctantly climbed a little higher as if it had been told to. “It’s a bear cub,” my older grandson said. My daughter and I looked at one another and silently communicated, He’s right!

“Let’s go!” I hadn’t needed to say the words; my daughter was already leading her boys away. She knew how fierce a mother bear could be.

“I dropped my hair tie,” my daughter said, as we briskly walked back the way we’d come. No one dared turn around to search for it. I glanced behind my shoulder praying I wouldn’t see a charging mama bear intent on protecting her cubs.

When we reached the road, I breathed a sigh of relief. I pulled out my phone, curious about the cub’s coloring. Wisconsin didn’t have brown bears, but this cub was definitely brown, not black. My daughter suggested I google “four-month black bear cubs.” I found an image showing one with a brown color and black markings near the eyes. Mystery solved.

With the safety of the cabin in sight, I relaxed. I also had a fun realization. My other two grandsons are joining my husband and me at the cabin in a few weeks. I can take them on a nature walk. I’ll prepare a scavenger hunt for them as well. I’ll be sure to include looking for a cub wearing their aunt’s hair tie.