My Grandpa is a little Native American man. He flyfishes and has a wicker kreel and waders. 

He was fishing in the Jocko River. A black bear came down the trail and stopped and sniffed one of my grandfather's footprints. The bear spent a lot of time sniffing the track. Then he moved to the next footprint and sniffed it for a few minutes. Grandpa gathered up his gear quietly. The bear moved to another track, and sniffed and sniffed.

Grandpa straightened up and said, "Mr. Bear. You like my footprints. I'll make you a whole bunch more."