Cooperativo Oso Pardo d’Espanya (COPE)

The Observer Book of Weather (Observer 20/5/07 p.31).

"In December 2006, bears in the mountains of Spain gave up hibernating because the winter was simply too warm."

My first comment was - “All ten of them!"

The Scene.

A smouldering rubbish dump somewhere at the back of Torrelavega in Cantabria, December 2006.

There appears to be a group of large men in fur coats shambling about or sprawled on abandoned furniture. They are seen to be ‘oso pardo’, brown bears. They are all male, ‘machos’.

Raoul speaks in a heavy Gallegan accent, wearing shades and a baseball cap. He is spread-eagled on a collapsed leather chair. Taking an enormous spliff out of his mouth he waves it in the direction of the other bears, vaguely.
"Hey dude, wanna hit?"
He usually insists on greeting each member with a high five, most of the time he is wasted. Privately, members of COPE think Raoul is too close to the 'out of work' boat crews in Cabo who supply the Yerba Buena.

The direction Raoul was waving the spliff includes in its 120 degree arc an old car on 3 wheels and a beer keg. Through the crazed windscreen there appears to be someone or something in the car. It is an impression rather than and image. The impression is of a bear sat behind the wheel turning it from side to side. If you listened hard you might hear a low sound "Brrm Brrm"- or maybe not. Perhaps this is Alfonso, from Cantabria. He is known, unkindly, by the other members of COPE, as Alfonso el Sabio.

A small but very powerful bear has just shambled into the space. He is carrying a huge stone, a box on his back and pulling a dead ox on a rope. The other bears greet him.
"Ola Inyaki! Still in training?"
Inyaki is Basque, but the bears never, ever, refer to him as such. He is always described as the honoured member from Euskadi. A good bear on your side in a fight, he does tend to hang on to the spliffs and the honeycombs when they are being passed round. The other members of COPE suspect that he has separatist tendencies and too great a fondness for Txacoli, drinking it as if it was water, which it nearly is, of course.

Leon from Leon is the current convenor. He sits at the centre of the space twitching his slightly grey, patrician, muzzle. These meetings are just an excuse for him to get out and cut loose. He would prefer more civilised, intelligent companions.
His grandfather once described a meeting of the Guild, as it was then called, in the 40s that was addressed by a magnificent but rather strident black bear called, Herman. There is no one of that stature, strength or moral fibre here today.

Javier, from Asturias is the firebrand, political commissar, and secretary of the Coop. His father was once shot at by the Caudillio and lived to tell the tale. The tale inherited by his son is a patrimony generously and frequently distributed. He is proud to be addressed as 'El Rojo'. He would probably be shocked by his nickname of 'La Rioja', identifying at least two of his preferences (weaknesses?), if he ever heard it.

Makeweight bears from Segovia (Guitarra), Burgos (Sid), Avila (Jose Maria!), Salamanca (El Profesor), Aragon (Bruno) and Navarra (Garbanzo) sit or shuffle through the rubbish.

Leon calls the meeting to order and sets out the agenda.

"Colleagues", he will never be able to use the more accepted address of comrades,

"We need to decide three things today."

"Who will we send to the 'Bear Necessities' networking event for EU subsidies in Poland?"

"How much will we contribute to the 'Lost Cubs of Rumania' Appeal?"

"And, if we are going to hibernate this winter?"

Raoul lets out a growl that would send shivers down the spine of a vampire and shambles, unsteadily, over to the bear from Aragon. He proffers the spliff.

"Jeesu Bruno! This skunk would make an Opus Dei Archbishop take up animal husbandry!"

Inyaki takes his accordion out of its box and starts to play one of those interminable txirmiri folk tunes. Several bears groan. Jose Maria lets out a wild howl and calls for the partying to begin. Garbanzo then takes off in a tuneless song of death, loss, betrayal, and txacoli, but not necessarily in that order. Javier rests his head in his hands. Leon rolls his eyes. It's going to be a long hard winter.

If you looked at the three wheeled car you might have the impression that Alfonso was sitting still; very, very still. If you listened hard you might hear a low rumble, barely a voice. You would think it was saying

"I'm going to stay up all winter."

over and over again.