When I heard the ringtone peculiar to Facetime calls and saw my cellphone light up — was it actually jumping around on the counter, or was that my imagination? — startle reflex kicked in. I became hyper vigilant.

Facetime to me is the equivalent of a home invasion. If I pick up, my cover will be blown! Whoever is calling me will see me as I am in this moment, wearing something tacky, hair probably going every which way (I haven’t looked in the mirror), my kitchen in complete disarray after I’ve been baking all morning. Not to mention Jupiter’s cat food dish which I’d just knocked over, scattering kibble across the floor.

Still, when I saw that it was my sister calling I took ahold of myself and answered the phone. Our little brother Jimmy was with her. Jimmy is only 71 years old. I wouldn’t have picked up if it had been just anybody, but Sissy and Jimmy have known me for a long time, since we grew up together in retro Metro Detro, and they already know what I’m like.

We compared what was coming up in our gardens. Global climate change has moved Keene Valley from climate zone 3 to 4, and the Metro Detro area has always been warmer than the Adirondacks, but nonetheless it was a chilly April day for all of us. Their crocuses are done.

I can’t grow crocuses here because the deer just immediately eat them, but I’ve seen some in bloom inside my neighbor’s fenced garden. Jimmy has daffodils in bloom and tulips in bud. Sissy has all kinds of things blooming because she is a landscape gardener. I have some galanthus snowdrops and a battered looking white hellebore in flower, with various bulb plants valiantly pushing up through the earth. As you know, it is Mud Season here.

The subject of bears came up. Isn’t this around the time of year they emerge from hibernation? Sissy asked. (Bears are always said to “emerge.”) She is distrustful of bears.

Yes, I said, but I haven’t seen any. Black bears are not the kind that eat people, not like grizzlies and polar bears. While they can run 30 mph, climb trees and swim, they are shy under most conditions.

Sissy shuddered to recall — well, she didn’t literally shudder as far as I could tell from the Facetime camera, but she looked to be on the verge — that once I camped out in my car by the dumpster in back of my house in hopes of seeing a bear. That was back in 2016, “A banner year for bear encounters in the Adirondacks,” as state Department of Environmental Conservation Region 5 wildlife biologist Jim Stickles told the Sun Community News.

She said now, “Bears can open car doors.”

“No,” I told her. “You’re thinking of velociraptors.”

Still, I admit it gave me pause to think it might be true.

Due to unusually dry weather, there was an increase in bear activity throughout the summer and the early fall of 2016 all across the Adirondacks, including Keene Valley. Black bears rampaged through back yards, leaving a trail of wanton destruction and garbage in their wake.

I chose a night when the moon was full and the sky was clear, figuring that I would be awakened by the bumptious activities of the bear, or bears.

I didn’t have to wait long. I had just dozed off in my little Honda Fit when the bear woke me. It was attacking the dumpster, standing on its hind legs and pushing the big plastic bin over against the fence. The lid was pinned against a wooden post, and the bear couldn’t get it open. I must have made some noise, because the bear abandoned the dumpster and walked around the car, as if to inspect it. The bear looked very broad and hefty and energetic in the moonlight.

When I told my sister the next day she said “That is just like something Mome (our mother) would have done!”

I picture our mother sitting next to me in the car, waiting for the bear to arrive. In my imagination, the moon shines brightly, and there we are, watching him emerge from the dark trees. Yes, as usual my sister was right. I can see it.

Have a good week.

(Martha Allen, of Keene Valley, has been writing for the News since 1996.)