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Into the Woods

By David Feela

Found in: | Outside | Wildlife |

In nearly 55 years on this planet, I've only seen (not including in zoos) two bears, both of them in the woods and neither of them doing what bears allegedly do at this location.

The first bear encounter happened during my initial trip to the Boundary Waters wilderness area in northern Minnesota over 30 years ago. I'd talked Pam into a backpacking expedition a good distance away from civilization. We camped by an ice-cold stream called the North Brule in early summer. In one week we'd seen a crazy moose stomp through our camp, a vicious weasel chase an ill-fated baby bunny to its long-and-drawn out death in the brambles beyond our campfire, and as I said, a bear digging through a mound of stumps and leaves.

My other encounter with a bear happened just last fall, while camping with the same woman near the historic ruins of an old mining town, LaPlata City.

Seeing a bear in Southwest Colorado is, I suppose, not very unusual, but to go ahead and tell the story about seeing it borders on clich�. I hesitate to even mention it. Anyone would be completely justified to counter with tales of their own bear encounters, each one of them no doubt more spine tingling than mine. I'd say no more, except that I nearly soiled my pants, so I think a few more details are necessary, if for no other reason than to account for the silliest bear encounter in the history of camping.

Our camping spot on the road to Kennebec Pass - though not a formal campground - had an unusual orange flyer stapled to a post when we pulled in. I got out of the truck and walked over to read it. The flyer, printed in bold, black letters, declared "Bears are in the area." For me, it wasn't news. I was aware that bears inhabit the Southwest. They are in the area because they live here. Newspaper accounts have gone so far as to document their dexterity with sliding deck doors and kitchen appliances every year. Bears coexist in our environment, along with deer, elk, mountain lions, coyotes, rabbits, mice, and human beings.

Pam said,"I wonder if we should stay here."

I said, "Don't worry, the forest service just posts these signs to avoid getting sued."

After we'd set up camp, I offered to accompany Pam on one of our a favorite hikes - the trek to visit an official campground toilet. We'd embarked on this excursion dozens of times, and we knew what to expect. Our route took us along the edge of a gravel road, and as is common with hikers who set off for a specific destination, we settled into our stride and fell silent, listening to our own thoughts.

Rule one in bear country: Make noise. Instead, I was meditating on the question of whether I should have brought some toilet paper.

Last year a record number of nuisance bears had been executed by wildlife management personnel - 59 in Colorado to be specific, by mid-November, with expectations for more executions predicted at that time due to a lack of cold weather and early snowfall. Most bears don't carry identification information, so some of them might have been visiting from out of state. More than likely, though, the brunt of the bruins had been Colorado born and bred.

As I walked along the road, I wasn't adding up the unusual statistics for bear encounters. I didn't know that 145 sightings had been reported during a two-week period in June, or that a record of these reports is documented by Bear Tracker, a map of sightings maintained by the Durango Herald. You see, I had my own paperwork to contend with.

At a bend in the road, I glanced up to check for cars. Stepping out from behind a tree no more than 40 feet away was a black bear, on all fours, and it appeared just as surprised to see me. As it started to stand up, I reached out and took Pam's arm by the elbow and we do-si-doed in the opposite direction. I could tell by the expression on her face that she'd seen the bear too. We doubled our pace and returned along the road the way we'd come, both of use glancing back over our shoulders, for fear that we were being followed.

Rule number two in bear country: If you see a bear, don't run. We didn't run. We walked extremely fast.

Back at camp, we laughed about our experience, comforting ourselves by suggesting that the bear had probably been more frightened by its encounter with bipeds. When I suggested a return trip to the outhouse, Pam recommended taking the truck.

"I ain't afraid of no bears!" I declared.

"I know," she replied, "but with our luck that bear is the one that uses an outhouse instead of the woods."