Bear Encounters

My summer doing research in the Yukon involved a lot of interaction with squirrels, many meetings with chipmunks and hares, and more face time with bears than I expected. It was relatively common to see bears on the side of the road while driving, but viewing a bear from the safety of a vehicle feels somewhat detached; the three bear encounters I had on foot in the woods were a whole other bowl of porridge.

The first bear I met was foraging under a tree near the top of a hill my coworker and I were climbing. It turned to look at us and my mind went blank. I had a vague idea that I was supposed to say "hey bear" or something like that in a low, reassuring tone, but there was just a second of silence and then the bear turned and ran in the other direction. We quickly retreated back the way we had come.

After this first encounter, it was brought to my attention that there was a 40-minute bear safety video that all technicians were supposed to watch before working in the field-- this part of my training had somehow been passed over in the hectic first week I was there. The bear knowledge that I did have came from a children's sticker issued by the parks system:
If You See A Bear,
1. Don't run
2. Slowly back away
3. Go find an adult
The 40-minute video, in general, elaborated on these steps.

The second bear I met was in a particularly thick section of spruce forest where the young trees were close enough together that it was difficult at points to find a way through them. It was early in the morning and I was feeling sleepy until I saw up ahead that two dark pillars--more trees I thought at first--were in fact the two front legs of a bear that was looking at me. I've had underwhelming experiences with caffeine, but I can testify that seeing a bear while you're alone in the forest produces instant alertness. Fortunately, I had received training for every step of the typical bear encounter. I instantly forgot what to do and just stared silently back at the bear. After a second, it turned and ran in the other direction. After another second, I turned and power-walked back through the forest.

This pattern of bears avoiding humans is fortunately very common when the two species meet. I was told that, in general, bears treat humans like they treat other bears, keeping out of each other's personal space to avoid risky and unnecessary conflict. In most cases, the bear is aware of the human from far off and avoids them without the human ever knowing. There are, of course, things you can and shouldn't do that make bears more likely to attack.

My third bear encounter was much more intimate than the first two. I was sitting against a tree, watching a squirrel territory to see if other squirrels would invade and try to steal the home squirrel's food. I had been watching for about an hour when I heard a rustle behind me. I of course assumed that it was a squirrel, and I didn't want to turn around because any sudden movement on my part might frighten it off and keep it from acting naturally. I sat still, then, for a little bit, but I didn't hear any more rustling, so I turned around to see what the squirrel was up to. A large bear was on all fours about ten feet behind me. Since I was sitting on the ground, we were eye-to-eye, and it certainly didn't feel like an advantageous situation for me. The bear and I stared at each other for a few long seconds and then it turned and ran off, and I followed suit.

I feel fortunate both to have had the opportunity to meet bears in the wild and to have gotten through each encounter safely. Along with my other treasured experiences in the Yukon, I remember these three moments of sudden terror and a surging fight-or-flight response. There were, of course, other bear experiences of interest that summer; one afternoon, in fact, a bear got into our camp and broke into a couple of the wooden shacks we slept in. However, being out in the wild with no shelter and coming across a predator much more powerful than an unarmed human has a way of shifting perspectives. Looking back, it's an experience I'm glad to have had, but I would be happy if I never had it again.