My granny makes the best jam in the world.

She says that is so tasty because she makes it with love.

She sells it on the hedge outside our house - people come and take jars, and leave money in her money box.

Not everyone.

I'm sad to say that sometimes jars get taken without any money being left.

Granny says that's okay - people take what they need. But I used to think that it's wrong to steal.

One day, two jars of jam went missing, and it made me so mad that I decided to find out who the robber was.

I sneaked out, my arms full of supplies - I had watched a You tube video on how to set a trap, and it didn't take long. Now all I needed to do was wait.

I hid in the leaves of a tree and watched for hours.

Then, just as it was getting dark, and my tummy was starting to rumble for dinner, I saw him.

A little furry baby bear.

He looked so cute, but also lost and very hungry.

Looking over his shoulder, he scuttled over to the jam stall. Reaching up onto his tiptoes, he pulled down a jar of raspberry jam and started to eat.

I felt sad for the bear. Very quietly and gently I came out from where I was hiding.

I didn't want to frighten him away. I beckoned him and luckily he followed me back to my home, where I made him a little den in the garden. I put out some bear food for him every day before school.

And the hedge jam? Granny was right. We don't need to worry about the odd missing jar. People take what they need.