A very large Admiralty Island brown bear, its bloated belly hanging low, waded down Pack Creek pouncing on the last of the year’s salmon. It devoured skin, meat and innards. It dug under a log, racked out a rotten carcass and ravenously chomped it down. It was mid-September and the bear had entered its annual autumn hyperphagia.
I like a lot of stinky things: French cheese, garlic, dirty socks, rolling around in barnyard manure, outhouses, etc. But I draw the line at rotten salmon.