Deep snow, bears, intruders — nothing can pull me from my home in nature

This First Person article is the experience of Sarah Butson, who lives in Bragg Creek, Alta. For more information about CBC's First Person stories, please see the FAQ.

Around midnight last June, I woke to a heavy thump on the wooden deck outside my bedroom window. 

Nights in the forest where I live are full of noises — owls hooting, coyotes yipping, lodgepole pines banging against each other in the wind — but this felt way too close. 

My eyelids snapped open. Another thump. I held my breath, my body jacked up with tension. 

A dark shadow rose up on the other side of the window screen, then dipped out of view.

One deep inhale and I twisted out of bed, sliding along the floor toward the window.

The shape loomed up again and then I smelled carrion. Bad, hot breath, the stink of dead meat. I was so relieved, I chuckled. It was just a bear — a mature one but only interested in the remains of winter birdseed on my deck. 

I opened my front door and banged and yelled until it ambled away. In the silence that followed, I felt jubilant. I did it again. I stood up for myself. I won't be chased from my home in the forest.

I'm a woman who lives solo on five acres outside Bragg Creek, a hamlet nestled in the wilderness park system of Kananaskis Country, roughly 60 kilometres west of Calgary.

Ten years earlier, I was living in Calgary when my marriage dissolved. I was 60 at the time and I was down on my knees with grief.

But I'd dealt with plenty of ruptures in my childhood in Ontario, and at that time, canoeing and camping in Algonquin park always kept my head bobbing when depression threatened. Later in Calgary, hiking and cross-country skiing in the Rockies helped me stay balanced amid the challenges of work as a psychologist.

Breathing in nature allows me to thrive. 

So, after my marriage fell apart, I imagined living in the forested foothills would bring me peace, even though the idea of rough living by myself felt overwhelming. 

I moved into a modest bungalow on two hectares of forest. The initial challenges were all practical, such as how to split wood for the fireplace with an electric splitter instead of a heavy axe.