Dear Editor:

I am 77 years old . . . nothing to do with the “Sunset Strip.” I have lived and loved on two continents, and the worst thing that I have ever done was in B.C. and it still haunts me,

I innocently phoned the B.C. conservation office. We live in a gated (without a gate) community in Rural Oliver.

We had a black bear paying us regular visits; he was a big bugger but was not aggressive and harmed no one. He was often chased from sheds and patios, and also helped himself to three nice apple pies that my sister had cooling on her deck.

I called the B.C. conservation office and they sent out a mobile trap the same day. They set the trap behind our house and we heard the “clang” of the metal gate at 3:58 a.m. the next morning.

My wife and I went out to check the trap with a torch.

The bear was inside, a few old open empty cans of sardines lying beside him. My wife poked a Toblerone chocolate bar through the bars and the bear ate his last meal, all thanks to me.

After calling the B.C. wildlife office and advising them of their success, their officer soon arrived with his pickup truck.

A polite, friendly, sociable, amicable, well-meaning, well-mannered chap he was not. I had to follow him around his rig to speak to him (to try and get any answers) as he hurriedly hitched up the blue mobile bear trap.

I asked, “Where are you taking him? Where will you be setting him free? What is going to happen to him? Can you answer me, sir?”

The unsociable, bored agent of B.C.’s animal law finally stopped and said, “Listen mate, we have a place, it’s up in the mountains atop the edge of a cliff. I will shoot him and roll him out of the back of the trap and he will fall and tumble down the cliff and provide winter food for other wildlife.”

I went into shock. I had foolishly assumed that a B.C. government helicopter would take him up in a sling and into bear heaven miles and miles away and drop him off.

That was some seven years ago and it still haunts me. Thankfully I have learned to sometimes switch it off.

To the conservation officer: listen mate, never again!

Don Smithyman,

Oliver, B.C.