My husband and I were driving down the highway, relaxed, surrounded by the autumnal forest. It was a straight, fast road, where there was hardly ever any traffic. But that day, something was different. Ahead of us, cars were completely stopped, forming a long line. The air felt motionless, as if time itself had stopped moving forward.

“There must have been an accident,” my husband said, as he braked. I nodded, but soon I was speechless upon seeing what was happening.

From the forest, directly onto the asphalt, bears began to emerge. Dozens of them. Some large, imposing; others, small cubs trotting close to their mothers. They weren’t roaring, they weren’t attacking, they didn’t seem aggressive. Rather, they moved with a silent restlessness, as if something invisible was chasing them. They walked calmly between the cars, without reacting to the horns or the drivers’ shouts. It was an unreal scene: an endless column of bears crossing the road, as if they were abandoning their home forever.

“They’re behaving strangely,” I whispered. “It looks like they are running away from something.”

And I was right. When the truth finally came out, everyone was horrified. It turned out that the bears were escaping danger. Days later, a television report explained that, near the river, deep in the forest, a garbage processing plant had been built. Chemical waste and the stench spread throughout the area, contaminating the air and water. The animals, unable to withstand the noise and the smell, abandoned their dens and ventured onto the road seeking clean air. They didn’t approach people out of curiosity. They were being expelled. They survived, yes, but they lost their home.

Public outrage forced the plant to halt its operations. They cleaned up the area, and little by little, the bears returned to the forest. That event became a painful lesson: humans have no right to destroy nature for their own benefit. When animals come out onto the road, it’s not always a coincidence. Sometimes, it is a cry for help.