"Yosemite National Park managers work to protect the American black bear in Yosemite National Park so that it can continue its healthy existence for future generations of visitors to see. The challenge: The species, by its nature, can easily be corrupted by human errors, such as approaching too closely or poor food storage practices. For these reasons, research is on the forefront. As scientists learn more, the emphasis, in some cases, is on managing the behavior of humans rather than the behavior of bears."
National Park Service
After finishing lunch near Cathedral Lake in the Yosemite Wilderness, my friend and I hiked about a mile or so north of the lake. We had already hiked seven miles before lunch so now we plodded along awaiting the return of our hiking rhythm. As we made our way along this portion of the John Muir Trail, another hiker hurriedly approached us from the opposite direction.
As the oncoming hiker neared us, I quickly noted that a few things did not seem to match up. His dusty hiking boots and socks suggested he had already put in a few miles and the direction he traveled indicated he had a lot more to go. Yet, he appeared to be without a large backpack and no obvious signs of food supplies; essential items in any extended hiking trip in the Yosemite backcountry. Only a water bladder strapped to his back suggested he prepared for a hike of any distance.
Sensing his urgent need to speedily reach some his destination, we gladly chose to step off the trail and yield it to him, not only as a hiking courtesy but also to give us another opportunity to rest and digest our lunch. As he approached, I felt compelled to inquire about his rapid assault upon the trail. “Looks like you are in a hurry,” I said as he passed us by. The words came out of my mouth as quickly as he hiked.
“Where you headed?” I asked.
He stopped a few steps beyond us, not appearing to be annoyed by the distraction we offered him from his determined intent to move forward. Turning toward us and answering my question without hesitation, he said, “Yosemite Valley.”
I again noted a mismatch of some sort. His rapid and shallow breathing did not seem to sync with the terrain we both covered as it was relatively flat. True, he had been moving quickly, but, like I said, he was traveling light with no supplies. His eyes focused on me but I got the sense he looked right through me as if he had other things on his mind.
Taking note of that, I acknowledged the trek he had ahead of him. “Well,” I offered, “You’ve got some hiking to do. That’s 20+ miles away. I notice that you don’t have a backpack. Are you planning to do that all in one day?”
“Yes,“ he said, again responding quickly and tersely. But he did not leave, exhibiting a hard-to-understand willingness to stay despite his hurried demeanor.
Then he spoke up, sharing what appeared to be the nature of his tenseness. “I had a bear incident,” he said. He paused as if he needed time to catch his breath and extract himself from reliving the experience over and over again. His brain seemed to labor to turn into words what he had witnessed, like a first-responder trying to debrief with co-workers to help them process a traumatic experience.
“Oh?” I said, not wanting to interfere with his informational processing.
He continued, “Yes, while getting ready to leave near the Young Lakes Trail. A bear came for my backpack.”
“Oh, no! We’re sorry to hear that,” I said. “Did he leave anything behind?”
“I don’t know,” he said, “I didn’t stick around to find out!”
Now everything started to make sense. He appeared jolted, indeed, like a bolt of electricity initialized all flight mechanisms in his body, putting them in high alert and causing him to flee. The breath of fear had taken hold of him.
Before we could offer him any food supplies, he shook his head and said that he needed to go. He swiftly turned away from us and resumed his hectic pace along the trail. We wished him well.
Clearly, this “bear incident” took its toll on this backpacker. Fear still held him in its grasp.
As for the bear, it did not appear the fear of humans (AKA anthropophobia) prevented it from getting what it wanted. Interestingly, when describing how best to act when encountering a bear, the Yosemite National Park webpage indicates that giving bears “plenty of space, and yelling at them if they are in residential areas or near people is critical to keep bears’ natural fear of humans.”—Italics mine.
Based on research, however, it appears that bears do not suffer from anthropophobia. According to an article appearing in the Journal of Behavior, researchers “found negligible support for the hypothesis that [black] bears are naturally anthropophobic – i.e., no indication that anthropophobia evolved as an adaptation protecting bears against human persecution.” Rather, the researchers indicated that if it is displayed, it is more likely learned “through aversive interactions with humans.”
John Muir stated that “bears are a peaceable people and mind their own business.”[1] Overall, that is true. Bears do tend to avoid humans. Yet, who is to say that is not due simply to a bear’s general dislike of the odor humans release, considering the awesome sense of smell bears possess? Bears are intelligent creatures and likely do their best to tolerate the presence of humans-- until the balance tips out of whack. In other words, a bear will go where its nose leads it, and if hungry, that may require displacing a human of its food.
I find of additional interest that humans rarely display a “natural fear” of bears until they experience an “aversive interaction” with one. Without education, history shows that, especially in the National Park setting, most people view seeing bears in their natural environment similar to watching a deer, a squirrel, or any other animal of the forest. Photos/videos of humans feeding black bears in the National Park and other close encounters document such non-fearful behavior (see video below).
[1] From Browning, Peter (1985) John Muir in His Own Words: A Book of Quotations
Fear of bears can be defined as reverential awe or respect for the potent power bears possess. Is such a fear/respect of ursus americanus necessary? Yes. Like most animals, a bear’s survival rests upon finding food and water, shelter, and fulfilling mating instincts. Bears are attracted to food, especially during the autumn months. Bearwise.org states that “To put on enough fat to last through the winter denning time, [black bears] may spend 20 hours a day eating and may put on up to 100 pounds in a few weeks. During spring and summer, bears eat around 5,000 calories a day, but in the fall, they are trying to eat up to 20,000 calories every day.”
If humans possess a food attractant and a bear has learned that that type of food leads to survival, then its instinct to survive will cash in on that food, as demonstrated in the situation faced by the hiker my friend and I encountered.
Without a healthy fear of bears in their natural habitat, human/bear incidents will continue. Unfortunately, perhaps only aversive interactions may instill that reverence in humans.
The hiker who shared his bear story with us now possesses that healthy fear. His aversive interaction with the black bear that claimed his backpack will impact his behavior in the Yosemite backcountry far into the future. He knows the breath of fear that comes from being victimized by a bear seeking to address its hunger with human attractants.
Developing healthy respect and awe of a black bear’s power before having an aversive interaction is far better than waiting until impelled to change as a result of a frightening “bear incident.” I know because I speak from experience. I will share another bear incident in Part 2 of this post on the “Breath of Fear.”
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