As many of you know, I’m a recent transplant to this town. Arriving in December introduced me to a seemingly hibernating Downieville, where locals were the main inhabitants, which helped us to quickly learn names and faces, making these newcomers feel like part of the community with ease. Since my arrival, I’ve experienced a series of “firsts,” navigating a mountain life that was entirely unfamiliar to me. What might seem like second nature to some has been a completely foreign concept for me.

In the midst of these experiences, a particular phrase kept echoing in my mind before attempting anything new: “Pretend it’s a forest.” Why would I instinctively know that an iron stove can overheat, that flight care is a thing, or that no matter how cute they may be, feeding wildlife is an absolute no-no—unless, of course, you’ve forged a genuine friendship with them.

With these thoughts in mind, I am eager to propose a column aimed at helping others like myself—tourists, wanderers, and allies from outer space—understand what it truly means to live in or visit the forest. I aim to cover a range of topics, from wildlife encounters to fire safety, local customs, and diverse mundane perspectives—all infused with a touch of humor and wit.

Pretend It’s a Forest

It’s Spring. While calendars, flowers, and allergies typically serve as the first indicators of Spring’s arrival for us humans, here in the Sierras, things work a little differently than in other parts of the country, or even the state. As someone new to this town—yes, full-time—my days are filled with a lot of “firsts.” One of my inaugural experiences was learning that Spring officially arrives once you encounter a bear — which, in the words of an extremely wise local, “It was your official Downieville Welcome.” Personally, a fruit basket or a drink at the St Charles would have worked better for me.

“We have a bear!? Like a real-life bear!?” was my initial reaction. But as the namesake of this column suggests, whenever something utterly surprises me, a particular phrase always echoes in my head: “Pretend it's a forest.” After all, this entire ecosystem is still completely foreign to me. So, let’s talk about my first bear encounter and the invaluable lessons it taught me, from both personal experience and local wisdom. Please note, these are not official recommendations but rather unsolicited suggestions.

Firstly, bears are larger than they appear in cartoons, yet undeniably adorable—from a very safe distance and after the initial shock wears off, of course. Secondly, they can be just as frightened of you as you are of them. In our case, a simple blast from a horn was enough to send our unexpected visitor scurrying back to its natural habitat a.k.a our backyard. If a horn isn’t readily available, it’s a moment for you to shine and demonstrate your non-existent skills in professional singing performance—beware, the bear might not leave but you’ll likely receive a hard eye roll; don’t take it personally. And lastly, to spare you from boredom with the obvious, always keep your windows and doors securely closed. As some of our neighbors can attest, bears have quite the sweet tooth but they’re not good payers nor tippers.

I won’t be taking questions or providing detailed descriptions of our furry visitor, as we parted amicably, with the hopeful wish that this uninvited guest won’t be making a return visit anytime soon—though, admittedly, that might be a tad naive of me.

For now, locals, old-timers, newcomers, tourists, and visitors from other galaxies, let's pretend it’s a forest, keep an eye out for bears, and stay safe