Smokey for a Day

Every summer the BLM Miles City Field Office enters a float in the Miles City Bucking Horse Sale parade as part of their wildland fire prevention and outreach effort. Someone dons the Smokey Bear suit and walks down Main St. waving, hugging kids and handing out Smokey Bear frisbees and beer coozies. Well this year, I was Smokey (at left, doing my best Buddy Christ impression). While Smokey and I have been at odds over the years when it comes to the proper role of fire in the landscape (he likes every campfire out while I see fire as a necessary part of healthy ecosystems) I couldn't pass up the chance to play the role of this icon and the main character in America's longest running public service campaign.

It turns out the Smokey Bear Program is highly regulated and tightly controlled. According to the published Smokey Bear Guidelines, when wearing the Smokey suit individuals must: Remain anonymous, never speak during appearances, never be photographed without the head in place, refrain from using drugs or alcohol prior to and during the appearance, ensure that the fur is brushed generously prior to appearance, and my favorite, which I quote, "The costumed bear should not force itself on anyone." They take it very seriously. I can just see a drunk Smokey with unkempt, nappy fur stumbling through the parade forcing himself on people.

Well, the Bucking Horse Sale is the biggest party of the year in Miles City, so I had a little trouble refraining from using alcohol the night before. I was still suffering from some aftershocks when it was parade time. They give you a ice pack vest to keep you cool inside all that padding, but by the time the parade finally started moving the sun was high and it was starting to get a little warm. Wearing Smokey must be something like trying to walk around in a spacesuit. Your feet (which are now giant paws) are hidden by your furry paunch and your sight is confined to Smokey's mesh covered eyes, which are mostly blocked by fur and set so far apart that you can only see out of one at a time.

And then there are the kids. They mob you. Before that parade I hadn't realized how widely loved Smokey is. Kids stream into the street and embrace your legs. Which of course you can't see. I lost track of how many kids I accidentally ran over or swatted with my over-sized paws. Everybody loves Smokey. Teenagers want hugs. Drunk guys want hugs. Grandparents want you to hold their grandkids for pictures. The parade was a blur of hugs and pictures and handshakes. While it was a relief to head back to the station and take that sweaty suit off, that parade will no doubt be one of the more memorable events of the summer.