The Smarter Society

Have We Really Advanced?

I began my day running into a high-end luxury spa in Taos, New Mexico. Trust me it was not my intended choice of destinations but sometimes urgency from the bowel region dictates your immediate course of action. My apologies but that was the most polite way I could say “bathroom break”. Anyway, my pitstop found me in a restroom like no other I had ever been. The decor oozed of luxury while the amenities exuded sophistication. In fact, I had a little trouble figuring out what was the actual sink versus what was artwork. I was relieved for the second time when an ornate stone orifice sprung forth with a steady stream of warm water when I magically waved my hand in front of it. Lucky guess on my part. As I exited the resort I briefly conversed with a hurried parking lot attendee who disdainfully reminded me that my diesel pickup up truck made it difficult for the vast array of luxury cars to get by. I dismissed his foul mood, hopped in my burdensome diesel, and bothered him no more.

My day continued.

My next destination, and what I truly came for, was the Taos Pueblo. I don’t mean the village where all the native Pueblo Indians live, I mean the actual building, the one that has been occupied by the same family’s for over 1000 years. The oldest continuously occupied residence in North America. As the Taos people recall, the one that has stood standing since time immemorial. My tour guide was beaming with pride and had a great big smile as she reminded us that everything around here has stood since time immemorial. Her happiness and excitement were contagious.

Beyond the condo-like Pueblo, there were a few other structures, mostly single residences. Off in the corner lie the remains of the old church, mostly outlines of a foundation, a place where 350 women and children were massacred in an invasion centuries ago, all marked by wooden crosses within the foundation’s perimeter. And then there was the new church, the newest building in the historic Pueblo area. It was built a few short years ago in 1850. No wonder it looked pristine.

Scattered about the grounds, usually adjacent to living quarters, were small adobe ovens. It is where most of the cooking is done on feast days, events that apparently occur quite often for the people here are always celebrating life. In fact, as I looked around I noticed that all of the structures were made of adobe, a simple combination of mud and straw. I was instructed that once or twice a year everyone recoats their house to build back up what the rains have washed away. This is what gives the structures the thick solid look. They also provide shade in the summer and warmth in the winter.

As I was talking to my still-smiling tour guide I noticed one of the residents slowly walking to a nearby stream to retrieve water. I was informed that the residents still drink the water straight from the stream, it is one of the few places where the water remains pure, cold, and plentiful. She reminded me that the village not only had no plumbing, they had no electricity. We were truly standing in a time forgotten.

And then I took a seat on a worn and weathered bench.

In the span of an hour I saw two divergent worlds. One, a world where time has stood still. Where the complexities of life and the advancements of the new world were available but politely declined. Where life was not only quiet but simple. A place where people were not only content, but truly happy.

Then there was the other world. Sadly, my world. A place where time never slows, rather it speeds. Where advances were not only adopted but soon brushed aside for newer advances. Rather than helping to make life simpler, they made life more complex. A place where people are rarely content, and never truly happy.

As I sat and watched the people before me, smiling as they went about their business, I couldn't help but wonder who was truly the more advanced society. To me, it was a no brainer, for the greatest advancement of all is being able to make time stand still. A place where time itself is immemorial.

Hello Bear!

 

It was late winter 1999 and the bear center had a couple of neonatal cubs that needed fostering to wild mother bears. We had already successfully fostered the cub’s sibling the week before so we were eager to get this cub united with a new mom. It wasn’t going to be long. A female had been located the day before within Great Smoky Mountain National Park and she appeared to be in prime condition having recently given birth to a few cubs of her own. She looked as if she would do just fine. The opportunity seemed perfect so the arrangements were made with the University of Tennessee bear researchers.

The next day, the hike to the den was nothing spectacular from a difficulty standpoint. In fact, it was rather simple and uneventful. It was only about a mile down a well-traveled trail and maybe thirty yards off the beaten path. What always made me smile seeing a den like this was how close by folks often walk to a sleeping bear. I have no doubt hundreds, if not thousands, passed within a stone’s throw of this mother and her cubs and none were the wiser.

The den itself was a typical bear den for the Smokies, made from the remnants of a monarch of a tree. This den, however, was not located up high within the bole of the tree, for the tree itself was long gone. What remained was a behemoth of a stump and a tangle of sturdy deep-reaching roots. I imagine in no time at all, upon finding the remnants on the tree, mom had excavated a nice comfy cavity in the loosely packed soil beneath. The freshly mounded dirt at the entrance of her den still smelled of raw earth and quite honestly, it smelled heavenly.

It would be a few minutes as the two lead researchers, Frank and Don, made careful preparations. Cub in hand, I waited patiently a short distance away for them to sedate the mother. Hibernating bears, though a little groggy at first are still a formidable animal. Common sense also tells us it’s never a good idea for a rousing mother bear to hear a bawling cub nearby by. I couldn’t help but imagine it would get the adrenaline rushing in both the mother bear and the crazy stupid human holding the cub (Me!).

Mother bears, though asleep, can wake relatively quickly.

Needless to say momma went down quietly and Frank and Don begin their work. Their first order of business was to extract the female’s natural cubs and hand them to us so we could collect measurements and apply our secret solution to the cubs, also known as Vicks VapoRub (the reasoning for that process is described in a different blog.) Interestingly enough, cub data wasn’t of utmost importance. When it came to the primary study, one of the key aspects of their research was to collect information to learn more about den selection. This included taking measurements both inside and outside the den. The end goal of this research was simply to find out what makes for a good bear den.

The cool thing with this particular den was that it actually had two different entrances, one in the front and a less conspicuous smaller entrance in the back. I guess given the proximity of the den to the hiking trail, if the bear wanted a way to make a hasty retreat should she need it, she could simply scoot out the back. Fortunately the hole in the rear of the den was just large enough for the second researcher, Don, to crawl into, but just barely. His job was to replace the radio collar that was on the female’s neck since its battery life was just about up. This was an ideal situation since with two people working together to collect the information and replace the collar, it was only going to take half the amount of time had only one person been able to crawl inside the den.

Enter the importance of communication!

 

A typical day doing bear den work.

 

As we stood outside, the view was quite comical with only Frank’s legs from the knee down protruding from the den entrance. Don was in a similar position on the opposite side of the tree. Their bodies looked like two human tent spikes staking in the tree stump. What was fascinating to think about however, was that between the two of them lie a 200+ pound black bear momma quietly sleeping away with the help of a little bit of drug. Regardless of the certainty of the drug concoction, it had to be a pretty intense time.

 

That was when it happened.

 

There were three of us standing there with cubs in hand and before we knew what happened, there were four of us.

 

Frank had appeared in the blink of an eye.

 

Not only was he looking a little bit white but he was wild-eyed with multiple leaves stuck in his hair. It honestly looked as if he saw a ghost!

 

“What happened down there?” We asked excitedly.

 

“Mom’s waking up!”

 

In a mad scramble to help Don who was still down there we heard giggles that assured us he was okay.

 

Remember that part about communication?

 

Since Frank and Don were on opposite ends of the den with a bear in between, they couldn’t see what each other was doing. As Frank was measuring the height of the middle interior of the den, he was pretty much lying right up against the bear. As Frank looked up to record the measurement, momma bear also lifted her head and stared directly into Frank’s eyes.

 

Hello Bear!!!

 

It was then that Frank, using his abdominal muscles only, made a hasty retreat in 0.23 seconds flat. A feat even Usain Bolt would be proud of! What Frank didn’t know, was that it was Don that lifted her head to remove the collar…hence the giggles. 

As we laughed about the situation, I could only imagine what was going through Frank’s mind the moment that sequence occurred…nose to nose with an unhappy momma bear in the confines of her den. All I can say is I am glad it wasn't me!

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To hear more "Bear Tales," and other wonderful bear adventures join Daryl Ratajczak as he recounts some of his favorite bear stories from his career as a wildlife biologist. The best thing...you can participate from the comfort of your own home! Register for his webinar titled, "Bear Tales" by sending an email to: wildlifeforyoutraining@gmail.com

 

A portion of the proceeds will be donated to the Appalachian Bear Rescue in Tennessee to care for orphaned and injured cubs from the Smokies and surrounding areas.

 

Registration and seat availability is first-come-first-served.