Bears We've Met is a compelling narrative of short stories of close encounters with bears spanning more than thirty years of the author's experiences in North America's remote regions. In this documentary the author shares early blunders and tense moments, including humorous and intriguing confrontations, as he and his wife confront the largest of land mammals. The book recounts time spent exploring Alaska and Kodiak Island; backpacking along the Appalachian Trail; and hiking within the Southern Appalachians, Colorado, and Shenandoah and Yellowstone National Parks. Each story affords the reader a vicarious opportunity to explore a remarkable wilderness area through informative descriptions of the extraordinary landscape and flora and fauna found within. This book is more than "armchair entertainment" for those interested in the bear as an American wilderness icon. It provides valuable insight to understanding this majestic creature and the vital role it serves in nature as a dominant landscape species.

Bears We've Met

Short Stories of Close EncountersBy Joel G. Zachry Kathy W. Zachry

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2010 Joel G. Zachry with Kathy W. Zachry
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4520-0820-2

Contents

Introduction........................................................xix1. Solar Eclipse Alaska............................................12. Goldilocks and the FOUR Bears Great Smokies.....................133. Buster and the Berry Patch Great Smokies........................274. Ghost of Resurrection River Alaska..............................455. Bears of the Appalachian Trail AT...............................596. Trapped Great Smokies...........................................737. Sassy "Teenager" Alaska.........................................878. Bathing with Bertha Great Smokies...............................1019. Bears of the Noonday Sun Nantahala..............................11110. Human Cannonball Great Smokies.................................12311. Head-On Collision-Well, Almost! Shenandoah.....................13712. Hayden Valley Encounters Yellowstone...........................147Epilogue............................................................161

Chapter One

Solar Eclipse

It was a sound that I would never forget.

From my crouched position, I quickly looked in the direction of the noise to see three frightened brown bear cubs reeling backward from no more than ten feet behind me. What brought their roll to a halt would have my life flash before me in the intense moments to follow.

* * *

It was August 1995, and this was my second trip to Kodiak Island, Alaska, as board member and officer of the Great Bear Foundation, a non-profit bear conservation organization headquartered at the time in Bozeman, Montana.

I had initially joined this organization by sending in my membership dues in 1992. After participating in a small group GBF excursion to Yellowstone National Park in May 1993, I became more convinced by their worth while mission to promote bear conservation issues. That November, I was voted onto the board of directors and later appointed board secretary and then president.

Being a part of this Montana-based group of not just bear enthusiasts but some of the greatest bear authorities, such as Dr. Barry Gilbert, Dr. Charles (Chuck) Jonkel, Dr. Lynn Rogers, and Charles (Charlie) Russell, was awe-inspiring. The energy and passion that Chuck Jonkel alone held for the bear was beyond my grasp at this point.

As someone who had grown up on a small East Tennessee hobby farm in the 1960s, there was so much to be said of traveling, not only to Alaska, but also to Kodiak Island. Finding me in Alaska was a major step out of the box from my rural upbringing, to say the least. To spend parts of two successive summers on the Emerald Isle, as it is known, in the presence of some of the world's most sizeable beings was unimaginable.

An archipelago is a chain of islands, and the Kodiak Archipelago is comprised of scattered land masses 250 miles southwest of Anchorage. It is only approachable by air or sea, and it encompasses more than 5,000 square miles, of which Kodiak Island is 3,588 of those miles. The majority of land on Kodiak falls within the Kodiak Wildlife Refuge, and its western Karluk Lake region is where we would spend our time.

The Island has fewer than 14,000 human residents and is home to more than 3,000 Kodiak brown bears, the largest land carnivores in North America. This equates to approximately one bear for every four residents of the island.

Interestingly, there have been few suspected human fatalities caused by the island's brown bears. I believe that this is because the locals and those who arrive to fish and hunt are somewhat knowledgeable in the ways of the bear and give them a wide berth.

My bear-viewing party included Matt Reid, GBF Executive Director; John Merrick, Land and Resource Manager for Koniag, Inc.; Steve Gehman, biologist and GBF associate; and Scott Shelton, our guide.

Matt and I had first traveled to Kodiak Island in the later part of May. I arrived in the town of Kodiak and flew in the front right-hand seat of a five-seat single engine plane whose pilot seemed to be no more than fifteen years of age. We journeyed less than an hour southeast and landed outside the village of Old Harbor, where Matt met the plane.

I can recall wondering if I would have trouble locating Matt in the airport but was surprised to learn that a meager landing strip was all there was. Additionally, we were clearly in the minority among the darker-skinned Alaskan natives with whom we would visit, dine, and stay for several days to come.

I had met Steve Gehman for the first time in 1993, and I became fond of him and respectful of his knowledge of nature during our Yellowstone trip together. He was easy to pick out in a crowd of other "bear people," for he handsomely sported bright red hair and flowing beard. He was not as chatty as Matt, and when he spoke there was reason to suspect that it was from a strong knowledge base and years of backcountry experience.

I liked Scott Shelton from the first meeting on Kodiak in May, when we stayed on Camp Island and were treated to his cooking and expertise on the Thumb River bears. He had a casual approach toward the bears, but he was serious when it came to protocol and avoiding potentially harmful encounters. He had a high respect for the power and natural instinct of the Kodiak bear, and rightfully so, for he was living among them.

John Merrick was obviously knowledgeable of the ways and affairs of the Kodiak natives. He seemed to take his position seriously, and I was confident that he was honorable in his dealings with the local people on land and bear issues.

This was late summer, and we were to spend the day observing brown bears who were feeding on migrating salmon as they moved about in the shallow Thumb River just below us. The pristine waters of the Thumb made their way swiftly beneath our perch and emptied fish, who were fortunate enough to escape awaiting bear paws, into Karluk Lake.

We would tally as many as forty-two bear sightings in one day as they ravaged their feeding grounds. A "sighting" meant a bear was seen, but it could represent a repeated observation of the same individual, unless there were specific markings that distinguished it from others. This manner of documenting what we saw avoided an exaggerated record of individual bruins observed.

On Kodiak, the largest of Alaska's many southern islands, are found the grandest of the brown bears. Feeding on salmon rich in protein, coastal female bears can reach 675 pounds or more and exceptional males can weigh as much as 1,400 pounds and reach nine feet tall standing on their hind feet.

This fork of the Thumb flowed into Karluk Lake in this somewhat southwestern portion of the island. Our camp, where we slept in rustic, native-owned cabins on Karluk's Camp Island, was less than a mile away by small skiff.

Part of Scott's job was to drop us off ashore, and clad in hip waders, position the raft away from the bank before joining us. This simple step discouraged the bears from approaching the raft while we were away and wreaking havoc on stowed gear, especially the life vests. Aside from that important duty, he prepared tasty meals and shared his vast understanding of the bears that we would encounter each day.

This small island's only other tenant was the US Fish and Wildlife Service. On the other side of the island from us, a couple of biologists seasonally lodged in a small, trashy cabin and flew out in an almost toy-like, two-seater plane to periodically monitor bear movements in this region. Their small holding along the shore gave evidence of many years of government spending, which had resulted in a heap of rubble around a decaying structure where they stayed.

Our purpose in making the long journey from home in the Lower Forty-Eight (or in Alaskan-speak, from "outside") to Kodiak was to enhance our understanding of this prime brown bear habitat. This knowledge would better enable us to assist the nearby native community of Old Harbor on the southeastern rim of the island with an ecotourism effort through GBF.

The term "ecotourism," popular in the mid-nineties, aptly described what all of us were striving to establish: an environmentally friendly approach to limited visitation to the region in the pursuit of bears, which in turn would produce a stable income base for the locals.

We had made our way from the beach through tall vegetation to a high point above the river, ever vigilant for bears snoozing in the lush vegetation that they would compact with their massive frames. Each daily walk from the raft to our viewing position would bring us close to several large bruins who gave a casual but convincing glance as we passed each of them sprawled among the grasses.

At the end of the worn path, we would take our places on a small, elevated wooden platform built by the native land owners expressly for bear viewing. There, we would engage in "bear watching" and soft discussions of our observations of bear interactions and feeding strategies.

Such viewing platforms were also found at other popular Alaskan bear gathering places, such as the Brooks River and McNeil River sites. The Brooks is found within Katmai National Park and Preserve, headquartered at King Salmon, 290 air miles southwest of Anchorage. McNeil River flows through McNeil River State Game Sanctuary and drains into Kamishak Bay, 250 air miles also southwest of Alaska's largest city.

These publicly managed sites allow a limited number of observers the unique opportunity to view nature at her best from safe vantage points. Viewing platforms located at these sites have long been respected by both bears and people.

The bears, over time, have become comfortable with the human intrusions within their prime fishing locations, and the viewers are carefully instructed and herded onto the platforms to make sure nothing that could be perceived as a threat by the bears occurs. In this manner, both bruin and man know their boundaries and respect each other's space. Our viewing location was unique in that it was on private land owned by Koniag, Inc., the regional native corporation of Kodiak Island.

In my visits there over a two-year period, we came to call the bank above the Thumb with its wooden platform "the bench." Located a mere dozen or so feet above the narrow river, the bench provided a great location from which to observe many bears. It was elevated enough to place observers above the river's bank vegetation, and it allowed us to have a 180-degree view of the river as it ran from east to west, emptying into Karluk Lake.

The bench also provided a comparable view behind us so that we periodically scanned for bears that might approach us from the rear through the underbrush. They were a curious lot, and it was not uncommon to have one or more bears investigate our intentions during the course of the day.

As the years would pass and I realized that I probably would never return to the bench, I often would wonder how I could have ever become bored and taken a nap on the wooden platform when many of nature's finest creations were just below me. Nonetheless, after several hours of gazing at these natural wonders as they selectively fed on the bounty of salmon, it was quite easy to drift off to sleep periodically with binoculars still in hand.

Strange as that reflection would seem, it was just a fact that we would see so many bears over the hours on each visit that I would become saturated with the awe of it all. Oh, to go back there, and again become restless with such repetition!

On this particular day, we had settled in for the morning on our perch, each of us finding just the right spot to position ourselves for optimal viewing, and all of us within a few feet of the weapons we had brought along. I had laid my belongings on the platform nearby alongside the shotgun that I owned. I scanned the terrain to our backside for anything of interest.

It was a sound that I would never forget!

The noise was not unlike one made by a car window that is not quite closed-a low, hissing sound. I had moved only feet away from the others who were gathered with me on the bench as I stooped toward the ground to retrieve my camera from the fanny pack near my feet.

Startled, I rather quickly looked from a crouched position to my right in the direction of that hissing sound. My eager eyes brought into focus at least two, maybe three, chocolate fuzzballs dwarfed by an immense adult bear form.

Slightly in front of two equally diminutive siblings, a brown bear cub only weeks old had hastily retreated at the sight of me only ten feet away. There followed a comical-but still serious-domino effect as the two others toppled into the much larger figure behind them.

I slowly and cautiously came to an upright position, totally unaware of how the other men, also potentially in harm's way, might be reacting to this intense moment. My focus immediately changed from the tiny cubs to the enormous protective mother bear only steps away.

She had risen above the bank of the river below the platform. In an almost surreal way, she stood there as all three retreating cubs squealed in fear at their discovery of me and withdrew to her for answers.

Female brown bears willingly take on much larger male bears in defense of their young. Male brown bears are known to kill and eat cubs, and females will fight to the death to protect their offspring. Therefore, there is little expectation that they will retreat from humans should their cubs become endangered. By far, the most feared bear encounter is a close one with a mother and her young, and that was exactly our situation ...

The inquisitive mother now loomed over us from behind-a sizeable, well-nourished bear. Her determination and ability to defend her cubs was unmatched by our presence and our firepower.

As she eased up the bank, her massive, dark figure supported an enormous head that slowly swayed from side to side as if to put every sensory device into motion. Nothing escaped her fixed dark eyes, perked ears, and keen sense of smell. She was completely focused on assessing any threat to be addressed in defense of her offspring.

Slowly, she surveyed our presence to determine what had startled her vulnerable young family. Driven by instinct crafted over centuries of survival by her species, she methodically evaluated what reaction was appropriate, as I stood motionless in her shadow. Outside my peripheral vision, the others in my group remained firm yet tense in her presence.

Bigger than life, she stood with the sun behind her, outlining every feature of her gigantic frame against the skyline. A radiant glow appeared to accent her coat, and to me in this precarious circumstance, she seemed to eclipse the sun. I can recall an almost euphoric feeling, like an out-of-body view of the entire scenario for these mere seconds, but it quickly gave way to fear of what might happen next.

Her presence was overwhelming, for she was an astonishingly beautiful fortress. With no time to give the slightest thought to an escape plan and nowhere to retreat anyway, the outcome to this too-close encounter was, without question, the bear's decision. Nature would rule here, and how the day ended would be hers to decide!

What seemed like an e-t-e-r-n-i-t-y passed in anticipation of how this mother bear might respond, yet in retrospect, it was momentary. Her senses meticulously processed the necessary information, and she carefully determined that, while the cub's discovery of us was startling to them, we were not a threat to her young.

Without any appearance of doubt in her ability to deal harshly with us, she slowly eased down the bank and returned to the river with grace and confidence. The three brown fuzzballs hastily tagged along amiably and without any further display of emotion.

For reasons that would never be revealed to us, she had chosen to take her startled cubs and retreat rather than deal forcefully with the intrusion. Perhaps this was the cubs' first human encounter but a hapless repeated offense to their mother and unworthy of the energy required for engagement.

Had she chosen to attack, being mere steps away, we would have found ourselves helpless, despite the presence of a Winchester Police Riot stainless-steel 12-gauge shotgun lying on the ground nearby and a holstered Ruger Red Hawk .44 magnum-common gear on such outings. Powerful weapons, even in the grip of experienced shooters, are no assurance against the swift charge of a large bear at close range. Native Alaskans and informed users of the backcountry pack firearms as commonly as they don their "Tufs." (ExtraTufs[TM] were a brand of knee-high rubber boots popular throughout Alaska among seamen, anglers, and hikers for negotiating soggy, uneven tundra.) However, a high-caliber firearm is no substitute for sound judgment when facing a potentially lethal animal at close range.

It is difficult for a skilled marksman to make a killing shot at a charging force with the speed and agility of an angry bear. Bears can travel over 30 miles per hour, and even at a distance of 50 yards, an intruder finds himself with mere seconds to respond successfully. That is, if the threat is even detected in its approach.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Bears We've Metby Joel G. Zachry Kathy W. Zachry Copyright © 2010 by Joel G. Zachry with Kathy W. Zachry. Excerpted by permission.
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