The new food-storage container at the campsite is a rutabaga nearly as wide as a picnic table. Nobody knows who brought it. Someone has placed a label on its side: “BEAR RESISTANT.”

The campers debate whether the label refers to the vegetable’s structural strength or its apparent lack of appeal. A child asks where the cooler goes. The adults examine the rutabaga for hinges. There are none.

By sunset, the joke has run its course. Food left out can attract wildlife, and a vegetable, regardless of size, is not a substitute for the storage method required at a campsite. The group puts its supplies in the actual approved locker down the path and wipes down the table.

Overnight, nothing disturbs the camp. In the morning, the rutabaga remains in place, faintly damp with dew. It has protected no snacks but has become the most photographed object on the trip.

One camper proposes cooking it. Another points out that nobody knows where it came from. They leave it untouched, tell the campground host what they found, and make breakfast from the food they stored properly.

The host studies the label, removes it, and asks everyone to stop calling the vegetable “the new locker.” A bear, if one were nearby, would have had no reason to respect the distinction.