Dear humans: Get a grip! Love, Bear

"You have more chance of getting run over by the KIRO news van than being eaten by a bear," the agent said.

Sheesh, what a week. You people are crazier than my dad after he eats a bush full of fermented berries.

I don't get you humans at all. Your golden rule whenever you see me is: "Remain calm." It's right there in your "Living With Wildlife" handbook.

So after what went down last week, I have to ask: Is this what you call "remaining calm?"

Buzzing me with choppers? Mapping me relentlessly on Google? Hassling me street to street, tree to tree all night with squadrons of rent-a-cops?

Wait, you say those were real cops? Man — and by that I mean your entire species — your problems are worse than I thought.

So someone sees me ambling through, minding my bear business. And your response, your version of "remaining calm," is to call out a SWAT team? Fourteen cops. Four wildlife agents. And that pest of a dog, Mishka.

First off, that's way more firepower than Rainier Valley would rate if there was a real killer on the loose. Am I right? I guess north of the Ship Canal really is special.

Still, it wasn't enough to get me. They had me once, up a tree. But the cop who saw me wouldn't get out of his car. He just sat in there, shining his light in my face. I couldn't believe it. "You got me! Do something!" I wanted to shout. If I could shout.

Eventually I got bored and climbed down. He followed halfheartedly in his car with his lights flashing until I ditched him.

Somehow I bet I'm not the first suspect to get away in Seattle using this technique.

Seriously — what was the point of your great teenaged-bear hunt? Even the wildlife agent waving around that dart gun said I was no threat. That I was less of a danger than the KIRO news van.

OK, so there's a thought. Maybe it'd make more sense to just tranquilize the KIRO news team?

Face it. You people don't know scat about bears.

I read in the paper this supposed insight into my character: "He's lost, confused, scared and likely was kicked out of his home by his mother."

Let's take these in order. Lost, hardly. I'll get to why I'm in Seattle in a minute.

Confused? After the week you had, sure you want to go there?

"Scared," my rump. I'm not the one too weak-kneed to get out of the squad car.

Finally, way to keep it classy, bringing my mama into it.

You want to know why I went all street-rat crazy? I'm not some woeful orphan. I came here on purpose. All the bears are doing it. (That bear a woman saw last week up on Beacon Hill, but nobody believed her? That's my cousin Rufus. You won't catch him, either.)

We're here for one reason: Because Seattle is garbage heaven.

About a month ago you people oddly began collecting food scraps and laying them outside in unlocked bins. It's like you're all bear sous chefs or something. We could smell Seattle clear over in our hibernation den!

I think your mayor calls this "food-waste recycling." But in bear world it's "smorgasbord."

And in rat world. Raccoon world. Coyote world. We're all herding to Seattle this summer. It's like you've set the table for us.

I had to laugh when that agent said the media storm about me would lead city folk to have wild visions. Imagining they see "lions and tigers," he joked.

Joke if you want. But last I heard, they're coming, too.

Danny Westneat's column appears Wednesday and Sunday. Reach him at 206-464-2086 or dwestneat@seattletimes.com.