At least a dozen, but one very enjoyable. I had just returned to a woods road with a partridge and laid my twelve on the ground in order to tie the bird to my belt. When I stood up, a small black bear caught my eye. It was on the road, about 60 yards away, next to a large puddle, in the direction I was headed, and it was watching me intently. I hollered my usual friendly bear greeting, "Hello bear, F*** OFF!!!", which it immediately did. I tied on the bird, picked up old Betsy, stood up, and saw the bear in the same spot on the road. However, twas not the same bear. It was about 225 pounds. I did not greet it at all. I immediately turned, while keeping an eye on the sow, and walked slowly away about 20 feet where there was log near the side of the road. I sat on the log and lit a smoke.

The sow walked slowly toward me about ten feet and sat just like a dog sits, never taking her eyes off me. She let out a moan (for lack of a better description of the sound) and junior came barrelling out of the woods. I watched for about fifteen minutes while junior put on an aquatic display. He would run at the puddle from all angles and jump into the air, splashing down in the puddle with great enthusiasm. All the while, the sow never took her eyes off me.

Then, she let out a moan and junior ran to her side, stuck to her like glue and they sidled off quietly, her still with eyes glued on me. I waited five minutes and walked up the road, talking and coughing (coughing is like barking to a bear) to let her know I was passing and hoping she was out of earshot.

Many times, I've been close, I've been challenged, I've been stalked, I've even poked one with a broom through my trailer door, but watching junior in the puddle was, by far the most enjoyable and most memorable.

PS... The times I was stalked, the bear probably did not know what I was until we met and only once was I actually scared. That time, I did not meet up with the bear, but out-manouvered it and fled. It may not even have been a bear, but a jack-knife and a fishing rod just don't give me enough of an edge for a close encounter. By the time I got to my truck, about a mile away through thick brush, I had more scratches on my face and arms than you could count.