Bears

The bears living in the deep woods around my home in New Hampshire have woken up hungry. Biologists warned us that they would be extra hungry this spring, since they had less food than usual last fall. We suspect that these aren’t just-passing-through bears––they seem like they know us pretty well. First of all, they haven’t even bothered with our bearproof trash barrel (been there, tried that). And last evening just as it was getting dark, our cat freaked out and ran from the entry (where we have a glass door that gives him a sentry’s view) into the living room, looking wildly at the windows. I looked from him to the windows and glimpsed a large black shape moving quickly by on the snowbank right outside our windows, just in time to see the bear leap five feet from one stone retaining wall to the wall on the other side, slip past a bordering cedar tree and run out of our yard. When I went out to look for his tracks, I saw that he had been headed for our front porch, where a bear had been last April, finding what I had thought was a safe place for a big bag of sunflower seed stashed in a tight-lidded tin barrel. The cat had freaked out then, too. In fact the cat was acting––when I got up about a half hour after the 5am raid last April––as if a person had come into the house, and for a moment I almost joined him in freaking out. But then I saw the tin barrel on its side on the front porch and I immediately knew what had happened.

These are black bears, not the huge and terrifying grizzlies of Alaska. But there is something other-worldly about these bears, nevertheless. Our cat is onto that. There is an oddly human quality about them, starting with their wonderful tracks that look like they were left by big bare human feet, big fat toe prints but with long claw prints added on. And these bears are so black that they are almost unbelievable to the eye: nothing on the planet could possibly be so black. Even in the dark you see them, because they are darker than the dark.

Anyway, I have had a wonderful time this past week following their tracks, and the really funny thing is, it is quite apparent that they have been following mine! It all started with them easily bypassing the bungie cords on the tin barrel lashed to the birdfeeder tree in the middle of our meadow (I keep the birdfeeders on this tree, far from the house, because if I put the feeders on the little apple trees in our front yard we are quickly overrun with squirrels, and even rats). About a week ago I got out to the birdfeeder tree to hang up the feeders, which I had been conscientiously bringing in at night, and saw that I needn’t have bothered––the bears had just stretched the bungie cords enough to pull the sunflower see bag out of the barrel and made off with the 25 pound bag that was half full of seed! I am getting that bag back, no matter what it takes, I thought as I saw their tracks leading into the woods. I put on my snowshoes and followed them and found the bag about two hundred yards down my snowshoe trail in the woods. A bear had carried it that far without spilling one seed. I wish I could have seen it! A few handfuls of seed were spilled where the bear dropped the bag, and I left the seed on the ground, pretty sure the bear would return later for it. I took back the bag with the rest of the seed in it, back to my house and kept it in my entryway. Sure enough, next day when I checked, the bear had been back to the seed and I could see long lines in the snow from her claws, where she had raked the seed up. No doubt she was disappointed the bag wasn’t there!

Last evening when I went out to bring in the birdfeeders, I found two sets of bear tracks coming across the snowy field to the tree, and then leaving from the tree to the woods––and while the seed feeders were still hanging from the tree (but one of them was suspiciously empty, and I could just imagine a black bear standing up and sucking the seed out of the cylinder), it was the suet they’d been after. One suet cage had been snapped open and left empty, one was lying in the snow under the tree (I think maybe they’d heard me coming and run away without it), and one suet basket was missing entirely (I will find that, too!). After safely stashing the birdfeeders inside the house, and updating my husband on the bear activity, I looked out the back windows and saw a bear slowly walking along the woods at the edge of our fields, headed back for the birdfeeder tree, like he’d been waiting for me to leave! So I took a new block of suet, but it into 6 chunks, and slipped out the other side of the house, coming into the field from the other end, hoping I would go undetected. He didn’t notice me as I quietly walked over the snow to near the edge of the woods where he’d come into the field. I didn’t dare go any closer, in case he got spooked and decided to run back the way he came––much as I love bears, I don’t want to be face to face with one! So I tossed those small chunks of suet as close to his footprints in the snow as I could. I quickly headed back to the house, and once I was within sight of the birdfeeder tree, I saw the bear running for the woods away from me and knew he’d finally heard me (the breeze had been blowing from him to me, so that’s why he hadn’t noticed me for a while).

This morning when I went out to hang the feeders, I followed the bear tracks in the snow, now frozen solid, beautiful, crisp, pristine tracks. I wanted to see if he’d found the suet I’d left. No, surprisingly 5 of the 6 chunks were still there, mostly buried in the snow. But he had come back after I left––his tracks were all over mine! So I unburied the chunks for him to find later.

I know we’re not supposed to feed bears. The last thing we want is garbage bears, habituated to humans, hanging around until someone decides they are a nuisance or, worse, a danger to the community, and shoots them. But I figure a few chunks of suet left along the line where the woods meets the field, just for a few more days while we still have over a foot of snow on the ground, couldn’t be too bad?

I’m going to invite my grandchildren over after school today to look at the tracks. Can’t wait.