An Interview with Fred: the stuffed Hokkaido bear of Nakatonbetsu

A figure I see on a daily basis within the halls of Nakatonbetsu’s town community center, it had never occurred to me until today, to actually sit down and chat with this quietly stoic figure of a former bear. Although fascinating at times, I must warn you that Fred’s story is a disturbing and painful one that speaks of a life stopped short in its prime.

Forrest: Hello, Fred.

Fred: Hello, Forrest. I appreciate you wanting to sit down and finally talk with me. Not many people do. Even after my death, it’s like I still frighten these people. Some things never change, hey?

Forrest: No, I suppose they don’t, do they? If I may be frank, how old were you when you were killed? I am assuming you were killed, right? And not the victim of natural causes?

Fred: Yes. I was killed, shot by an angry farmer in supposed revenge for some cow, but I swear to you that it wasn’t me who did it. I never even ate meat when I was alive. Well, maybe a little when growing up, but that was it. I was a berry, roots, and nuts type of bear. Of course I had a little fish here and there in season, but that goes without saying. You see, not all of us bears develop the blood lust. You humans don’t seem to understand this. Bears that turn into crazed red meat eaters get violent and too brave, and then sooner or later some farmer blows their brains out because that bear just had to go slaughter some livestock.

But, even worse then meat, is if a bear gets hooked on the human food. Then it’s all over. Yep, only a matter of time before that bear’s nothing more than a trophy on some fat man’s wall. I lost a lot of good friends because they got hooked on human food. Poison. Nothing but pure poison.

But to get back to my death, my misfortune was just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. If I could go back and change anything, I never would have went across that field to get to that berry patch at dusk. Stupid.

Forrest: We all have regrets in life, don’t we? Don’t beat yourself up, Fred. How old were you when you died?

Fred: Ten. The prime of my life. I had the whole world in front of me. I can really say that I was a happy and content Hokkaido bear then. I had a nice little cave in a tiny canyon by a river, way far away from any humans. I had already mated four times. Life was good. Life was really good.

Forrest: How do feel now about being a stuffed bear on display in the town community center?

Fred: Well, honestly, because I’m dead, I don’t feel much. (Laughs) But, to answer your question, I guess I would have to say, used. I feel used. I went from roaming the wild green hills of my forefathers one day, to sitting in an ugly, smoke filled leisure hall for everyone to stare and gloat over me as a representation of man’s triumph over nature, the next. It’s tough. I just dream that they would take my stuffed carcass out back and burn me, so I can finally rest in peace. Until then, I’m trapped in this stuffed form. Locked between life and the happy bear hunting grounds.

Forrest: On a final note, is there anything you would like to say to the man who shot you before we end this interview?

Fred: Yes. Actually there is. You had no right to kill me. I only wanted some stinking berries that grew in a field that my ancestors had been foraging for centuries. Way before you and the other humans came, if I might add. I had nothing personal with you. No bear does. We have to stop this senseless cycle of killing. There is room in the hills of Hokkaido for everyone and everything, bears and humans alike. (Beginning to cry) Sorry…you brought back a lot painful memories for me that I hadn’t thought about it in a long tome.

Forrest: No. Don’t be sorry, Fred. Thank you for telling me your story. It was a pleasure and an honor speaking with you.

Fred: Your welcome, Forrest. I appreciate you wanting to speak to me, too.