About 15 or 16 years ago, I was hunting deer in the mountains of western Maine in early November. It was a beautiful, warm day, and around 11:00 in the morning, the warmth of the sun, combined with the early wakeup had me feeling a bit sleepy. I decided not to fight it, and decided to take a little nap, as besides a few grouse scared up while still hunting, not much else seemed to be about. I found an old log about 10 or 12 feet long, and perhaps 2 feet in diameter which was conveniently positioned right up against a large maple tree. This made for a quite comfortable rest, and with the sun warming my chest and face, I was fast asleep on the end of the log in short order. Some time later, I felt the log moving slightly, and this woke me from my slumber. When I opened my eyes and looked to my right, a large black bear was scratching its rump on the other end of the log from where I was sitting. I gasped in surprise, and the bear took one quick look at me and took off down the mountain at breakneck speed. Bear season was open at the time, but I didn't have a tag. By the way, you didn't mention if these stories had to be true or not.

This one isn't.