What to do when you're face-to-face with North America's most dangerous predator.
Feb 1, 2006
"That bear is stalking us," said my friend Larry Suiter as we glassed for Sitka blacktail deer on Alaska's Sitkalidak Island.
Larry was intently scanning the shrub-laced valley we had walked earlier that morning. An 8-foot Kodiak brown bear was walking the same route we had taken. The bear had its nose to our trail like a beagle on a rabbit track, though we had taken no deer and our hip boots, clothing and packs were clean of deer scent and food. When I watched it pass within 30 yards of two blacktail does without stopping, I knew we had a problem.
"Let's get to higher ground," said Larry. We huffed to the next level of alpine tundra, where we had a clear view. I suggested a higher knoll, which would give us a better field of fire and put a massive ravine between us and the bear. Larry looked down just as we reached the top.
The bear, on a dead run, cleared the ridge. It would have bowled us over had we not moved to the higher position. It disappeared into the thicketed ravine, but soon reemerged in the open, on our side, 50 yards from us. We were already in defensive mode. Larry was sitting with his .338 shouldered. I took a step toward the bear, threatening it with all sorts of consequences if it came one step closer.
The bear held its head low, swaying it from side to side, trying to get our scent. It moved forward a few feet and hesitated before slowly backing up. It crouched like a cat, ready to pounce. Seeing we were not deterred, the bear eased sideways into the ravine and disappeared. That put us on alert.
"He's trying to sneak around and get above us," Larry said.
Perched on a rocky point overlooking the ravine, I watched the bear weave through the thickets, trying to circle around us. I scurried to an outcrop above it. It stopped, sat down and looked directly at me. The standoff lasted 20 minutes. I waved Larry over to me and we scurried up an opposite hillside out of sight of the bear. We never saw it again.
We later learned that a group of bowhunters had been in the area a week before. The bear might have associated humans with deer remains. Whatever
his motivation, he presented a potentially dangerous scenario that fortunately we avoided.
When a bear is defensive, predatory or habituated to human activity, it might not run off. In 2003, an Alaska brown bear famously attacked and killed Timothy Treadwell and Amie Huguenard at their camp in Katmai National Park. Treadwell had lived among the bears for 13 summers. Nevertheless, a bear was found feeding
on the couple's remains, a gruesome reminder of the unpredictability of these creatures in the wild.
"Horror stories like this make people reach for their guns and fire without thinking," says Tom Smith, a research wildlife ecologist who specializes in interactions between brown bears and humans. "Sterling Miller, an Alaska bear researcher, published a paper that showed there was a spike in defense-
of-life-and-property killings following each well-publicized bear attack. Such incidents put people on edge and they respond to bears by shooting first and asking questions later."
An inquisitive or even an attacking bear can be effectively deterred without injury to the bear. Only as a last resort, when contact is imminent or your
survival is threatened, should you consider using lethal force. Ultimately, it's your obligation to properly interpret each bear's behavior and react in a responsible manner.
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