It's All in a Picture

Another throwback from my time managing the Appalachian Bear Center (present day ABR).



I sat in the board meeting just happy to be there.

There I was, sitting proudly in late-September, in a small meeting room in the outskirts of Knoxville amongst a group of dedicated individuals who had poured their heart and soul into this unknown facility called the Appalachian Bear Center. Calling it a facility at that point in time was probably a stretch considering what most people think of when they hear the term "facility". Yes, there was some structure in those serene, peaceful hills outside of Great Smoky Mountains National Park (GSMNP) but at that point, the bear center existed more on paper and in the imagination of a few than actually on the ground. At that time, a 1972 dilapidated single-wide trailer, an unfinished cement-block shed, and two glorious half-acre codified bear pens WAS the "facility".

Appalachian Bear Center 1997.

Thinking about it, the meager beginnings of the bear center were justified. A small grant allowed us to construct the bear pens and most of the other items on location were gratefully donated by the few that knew about us. Unfortunately it was only a very few. Only four bears had ever set foot within the center's enclosure, only two of which were returned to the wild. The other two were temporarily housed as a favor to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service while they prosecuted a court case (but that is another story). Maybe that would change soon.

The board meeting droned on.

There were pleasant casual conversations, mostly focusing on fundraising or awareness events since at the time there were no cubs in our care. It was during this "pleasantness" that I received one of the greatest shocks of my life. It occurred when one of the board members was providing the treasurer's report. It went something like this...

"...and our monthly balance as of September 15, 1997, is hereby recorded at $721.38."

My head swiveled as if trying to re-hear that number again in hopes that I missed a few digits.

I leaned over to Tom Faulkner (Board Member) and asked if I heard that number correctly. He gave a solemn nod.

I couldn't help but immediately follow with a selfish question. "Does my salary come out of that same account?" Another solemn nod.

Maybe it wasn't such a pleasant board meeting after all.

I went home that night resigned to the fact that I ought to get my resume up-to-date and ready.

Unless a miracle happened, the bear center's future appeared as if it was going to remain on paper and in imaginations.

................

        The Malicious Miracle - Be Careful What you Wish For

Not even a week had passed since the now-reclassified "dreadful" board meeting had occurred when I received a call from Doug Scott, the TWRA regional bear biologist. He had a cub that was in need of help and was hoping we would take it. Of course we would. If anything, caring for the cub would at least serve as a pleasant distraction from our financial woes. At least the bear center could be useful until the bitter end. Though stretched to our limits we were committed and we were going to be there for them, not just for the state wildlife agency but for the National Park Service and especially for the bears.

As luck would have it, the "miracle" was upon us.

It came in the fall of 1997 in the form of a severe hard mast failure that had struck the Appalachian Mountains of East Tennessee. Hard mast is simply a fancy term for the natural acorn and nut crop that is produced by our forests. And bears, reliant on these acorns to fatten up before winter, were hard pressed to find food. Although the adult bears could get by, the unfortunate casualties of the food shortage was usually the weakest of the bunch...the cubs.

The first cub had arrived in early October. A few days later Doug brought me two more bears. Soon afterwards, the Great Smoky Mountain National Park had some bears that needed help. Another week had passed and TWRA had their hands on a few more cubs. Then a few more came in from the National Park. All told, within about an eight-week period, we had admitted almost a dozen orphaned and/or injured black bear cubs.

With this many cubs in our care times were too busy to think about our financial troubles.…

...or were they?

........................

Up to this point, the bear center remained relatively unknown. But who in their right mind couldn't get behind the work we were not only doing but now inundated with?

We needed to get the word out but unfortunately, we were stuck. You see, due to our rehabilitation technique we could not invite the media over to cover "our story". No one was allowed to go down to the enclosure to see the cubs, let alone take pictures of them.  

After all, HEARING a story about an orphaned bear cub will only go so far...

SEEING a story about an orphan bear cub...

...well, that's a much more effective dose of reality. Now multiply that by a dozen!

Then it dawned on me...

"Heck, if we can't bring them to the cubs, we will bring the cubs to them!"

The first thing I did was place a call to Walter Cook, the Captive Wildlife Coordinator for TWRA. Not wanting to do anything in violation of our permit, I asked Mr. Cook if it was OK if I took pictures of the cubs during my daily feeding routine, ensuring that no additional interaction with the bears would take place. Mr. Cook agreed that this was perfectly fine. I then asked if those pictures could then be shared with the media, understanding that they were not allowed to obtain their own photographs should they ask. Once again Mr. Cook was in complete agreement adding that the newspapers ought to credit the bear center for the pictures we supplied.

We were now on the same page and little did I know, we were now in business.

-----------------------------------

It all started with a simple picture.



With cubs in good care and a picture in hand, a call was placed to the Maryville, TN newspaper, The Daily Times. The interview was short, the story was simple and the picture was clear.

A casualty of the 1997 mast failure and quite possibly the savior of the bear center.

The next morning, the story of the bear center, highlighted by a picture of an orphaned cub graced the front page of the Daily Times.

The pebble at the top of the mountain had been kicked.

The Knoxville News Sentinal was the first to call.

The next day we were on the front page of the News Sentinal.

The following day, a photographer from Associated Press had called. He had read the story in the Knoxville newspaper and was wondering if I could possibly supply him with another version of the story and of course, another one of those "cub" pictures.

The cubs soon graced the A.P. Wire.

Within a two weeks I had been sent news clippings from Seattle, Washington, Jacksonville, Florida and Dallas, Texas.

Then came a call from Atlanta. It was CNN. They wanted to drive down and do an interview for television.

Needless to say it was one heck of a thrill to call my parents in Buffalo, NY, and tell them to watch TV that evening. I was awful but thankfully the bears stole the show.

The following day a gentleman from New Jersey called and told me he had just finished watching a broadcast on CNN about "some orphaned cubs in Tennessee" and was wondering if we might be able use $5,000 to help them out.

The donations began to pour in.

Not because of me. Not because of a board member. Not because of some brilliant plan.

Photo courtesy of ABR.

But because of a simple picture.

Sometimes a picture is worth 1,000 words.

Sometimes it may be worth $5,000.

But sometimes.... every once in a great great while, a picture can turn out to be priceless.

Umm...I Think I Lost Your Bear...

Early in my career I managed the Appalachian Bear Center (currently known as the Appalachian Bear Rescue), a black bear education, research, and rehab facility just outside of Great Smoky Mountain National Park. Every once in a while we would get a call from the National Park Service about a black bear cub that was either orphaned or injured and desperately needed help. At that point in time, I had the incredulous job of getting that cub back on its feet so it could be returned to the wild to roam free once again. My memory abounds with escapades and adventures from those early days and if only I could paint those wondrous and vivid pictures with words I'm sure you would appreciate the special times in which we lived.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 "Houdini"

Photo courtesy of ABR.

Early one afternoon I answered the phone at the bear center and I was greeted by the familiar and friendly voice of Kim Delozier, head biologist at Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Though always a treat to converse with, the gravity and frankness in his tone immediately gave notice to the urgency of the situation.

Kim got right to the point. "We have a cub here that's in bad shape and needs immediate assistance...think you could help us out?"

"Of course, that's what we're here for," was my immediate response. Kim immediately filled me in on the details.

Earlier in the day there was quite the scene at Chimney's picnic area in GSMNP. A few bears had wandered into the picnic area undoubtedly hoping to scavenge some scraps from ill-advised picnickers. From reports of onlookers there was a female with cubs and what appeared to be a solitary male. Though daylight panhandling by bears is dealt with swiftly by park personnel, the aromas of meat- laden grills is often a lure that can not be easily overcome, so sightings of bears in the area of the picnic grounds are quite common. As long as the bears move on through and stay wary of humans, all is well. As it turned out, all was not well.

Though an exact account can not be confirmed, it appeared that one of the cubs ventured too far from "mom" and crossed paths with the solitary male. Not wanting to compete for any food sources that might be available in the area, the male tried to remove the threat and seized the lone cub by the hind leg, shaking him violently in his jaws, and releasing him, either by accident or by believing the cub had learned his lesson. Regardless of the intent, the young cub struggled through the grounds with a severely damaged and useless hind leg.

Though we all know Mother Nature can be cruel, the fact that humans may have played a small role in bringing these bears together initiated the Park Service to react.

Kim's first question to me was "How much money does the bear center have?" Due to the severity of the injury Kim had a hunch a rather expensive surgery would be required from the University of Tennessee veterinary school. This made my heart sink. The bear center was only a few years old and struggling beyond belief just to pay the utility bills. In other words, were still relatively unheard of and few knew of the work we were doing. Hence, we had no money. I relayed that information to Kim.

Without hesitation and being the kind-hearted and dedicated person he is, Kim immediately got to work and started making phone calls from his vast array of connections at the park. Within an hour Kim called back and informed me he had found a donor who would pay for the entire surgery. The only question remaining was, "Would we rehabilitate the cub once the leg was repaired?" 

I advised him, it was not only our duty, it would be an honor to do so.

Later that evening I anxiously awaited as the National Park Service truck bounced along the dirt road leading up to the bear center. In the bed of the truck sat a small metal cage containing the wild and still very fragile patient. When the truck finally came to rest in the driveway I immediately saw the extent of his injury for the surgeons had to shave the entire lower half of his body. A 12-inch suture line, stained yellow from iodine, showed me where they had repaired the leg by inserting a long metallic rod into the bone. The wound was indeed ghastly.

The unfinished maintenance building.

Kim and I unloaded the cage containing the near 20-pound cub and placed it in the maintenance building. He had two simple instructions to relay to me from the vets: 1.) administer the strong round of antibiotics as prescribed and 2.) keep the cub confined in the small cage for at least two weeks to allow the leg time to heal and set properly. Two simple yet required tasks. 

As soon as the bear was secured in the maintenance building I could see in Kim's eyes he had quite a long day, chasing, capturing and caring for this cub so I bid him farewell assuring him the cub was in good hands.

.................

There was about an hour left of daylight so I returned to peek-in on the cub to make sure he awoke from the sedation without any issues. He was still out. As I watched the cub resting comfortably in the cage it dawned on me that I had no way of feeding and watering him once he awoke. One must understand that at this point of the bear centers' existence we did not have much of anything, not even feeding bowls, so I decided to make an emergency run to the Townsend shopping center, which in essence was a well-stocked gas station. My goal...to find a few sturdy dog bowls (since I don't think they ever call them bear bowls) so I could feed and water our new patient. About 20 minutes later I had returned, bowls in hand.

As I entered the maintenance building I was relieved to find the cub still fast asleep at the back of his enclosure. He looked so tiny and peaceful resting there, curled up in a half-shaven furry ball. At-first, I was wondering how I could place the bowls inside his cage since it provided only one hinged-door at the front-end. Not a problem I thought, as his stupor would allow me to open the door quickly, place the bowls, and secure him back inside without him ever knowing the door had been opened.

K-l-l-i-n-n-k

That soft barely-audible clink of the metal latch was all that was needed to awaken the Tasmanian Devil.

In a flash, the soft purring fur ball became a whirlwind of bared teeth and razor-sharp claws hellbent on shredding whatever lay before him. (It was nowhere near like that...but I like to think that in order to maintain my manhood.)

In all actuality, the cub caught me by complete surprise when he woke and lunged at the open door causing me to fall backwards on my heels. His snout wedged between the door of the cage and before I could get it closed, he forced it open, crawled over my legs, and ran out the door of the maintenance building

Let me repeat… He ran out the door of the maintenance building.

OMG!!! I LEFT THE DOOR OF THE MAINTENANCE BUILDING OPEN!!!

Realizing my monumental mistake I scrambled to my feet and chased after him, Lord knowing what I would have done if I ever caught him. Despite his injury he was amazingly agile. I burst through the door and was fast on his heels about 15 feet behind. As he exited the maintenance building he ran left, down the hill, and amazingly enough made a beeline to the one and only large pine tree that was on the edge of the blackberry field.

In the excitement, out of the right corner of my eye I glimpsed my trusted and faithful dog Smoky, lying on a wood-chip pile watching the pursuit in what I could only imagine as utter amazement. At that very moment, I saw the cub stop at the base of the pine tree with the claws of his forepaws sinking-in in preparation for making a fast and nimble ascent. He paused, I paused, while Smoky sat motionless trying to comprehend what the heck was going on before her. This was my one and only shot.

My mind played out the capture in amazing clarity.

I would charge the cub, yelling and screaming at the top of my lungs, scaring him to the upper reaches of the pine tree. As he sat perched in the upper boughs I would tie my dog Smoky to the base of the tree deterring his descent until I could call for help (Kim) since I had no capture equipment (Yes...we were that scant on equipment and supplies.)

No sooner had my mind's eye painted the brilliant picture of my dog tied to the base of the tree with a bear perched above, that Smoky saw that EXACT same picture in her mind's eye. She's no fool.

Her eyes bugged. Her hair stood on end. And in an instant, she made a beeline North, in the complete OPPOSITE direction of the escapade before her. Dam...she was one smart dog.

Slightly deterred, I had to resort to Plan B. Unfortunately there was no Plan B. I was still stuck in getting Plan A implemented. I figured I would work on Plan B once I scared the cub up the tree. Heck...I would tie myself to the base of the tree until I figured out what to do next.

Without hesitation I lunged in the direction of the still-poised bear, willing him up the tree.

He looked up.

He dug in...

...and a second later...

...he fell backward as his newly repaired leg gave out as he tried with all his might to hoist his weight upwards. He simply couldn't do it.

My heart sank.

The elusive Houdini. Photo courtesy of ABR.

He scrambled to get back on his feet. Though he couldn't climb, he could run, and run he did.

Down the blackberry field, over the brush-pile and into the darkening valley below.

He was gone.

From his sleeping state in the back of his cage to the last glimpse of his departing shaven-figure into the woods below, less than 30 seconds had elapsed. In that frantic half-minute I had aged twenty years and woefully felt none-the-wiser.

Tears began to seep from the corner of my eyes.

I had just lost the bear.

It took every ounce of strength and will power I had make my way back to the trailer to call Kim and tell him what had transpired. In the meantime, I was already mentally working on my resume for indeed I would need them soon. Anyway, I'm sure I could find a job washing dishes in a local restaurant somewhere.

The ensuing call began something like this...

Hey Kim...{{{pause}}}

Ummm...I lost your bear....{{{my voice undoubtedly quivering}}}

Over the course of the next few minutes I described the scenario above and anxiously anticipated and awaited the deserved retribution.

Instead, I heard a chuckle.

Though I'm sure Kim was disappointed, his years of experience working with wild animals apparently softened his heart and he knew all too well, that rarely does everything go "as planned" when dealing with wild bears.

"Let's just call this a spontaneous release...how 'bout that?" Kim said with a reassuring voice. "I'll be over in the morning to help you set some traps."

My heart once again began to beat.

Over the course of the next three weeks I worked tirelessly baiting and setting Hav-a-hart traps in the valley below. My sole mission....to catch the cub with the shaved back-end.

Two opossums, one raccoon, and one destroyed-trap later (apparently a very large bear thought the best way to the bait was through the wire-mesh)...I abandoned the trapping efforts and resigned myself to a hard lesson learned and accepted the fact that the cub was indeed gone forever.

....................................

A month later the phone rang at the bear center and it was the calm comforting voice of Kim Delozier.

"I don't suppose you'd recognize a cub with a shaved back-end that's tooling around Chimneys Picnic Area...would you?"

"No freaking way!" was in my mind but I knew how completely unprofessional that sounded so instead I blurted out...

"No freaking way!"

Ugh...I need to think before I speak.

Once again Kim chuckled and told me they were working on trapping him.

Approximately two months after his unexpected and daring escape, the cub, now aptly named "Houdini," returned to the bear center...two-pounds heavier, leg completely healed, and backside, still shaved but wonderfully stubbly.

I promise you one thing, if there was one thing I learned, I will ALWAYS close the door behind me (whenever I have a cub with a surgically repaired leg in my care!).

LIFE Trucks

Got smacked by Mack's little brother a few weeks ago.

Just as I go spoutin' off about how I'm gonna enjoy life, see the sights, kick back n' relax and "take more time to write"... I apparently stepped foot into the street without lookin' both ways and got myself blindsided by one of those fast-movin' ever-cursed "life" trucks.

Oh don't worry...I'm okay. Thankfully it was a pain-in-the-butt Prius type and not one of those 18-wheelin' peel-ya-off-the-pavement types. This was more of one of those unforeseen aggravation events than a life-changing God-seeking event...

...and it all started with a tiny hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant in Monte Vista, Colorado.

What was initially believed was Moo-Goo-Gai-Indigestion for my wife turned out to be a pretty severe blockage of her bile duct by some pesky little gall stones. Seven days in the hospital, one ambulance ride, two rescheduled endoscopic procedures, and one laparoscopic surgery later, she's gall bladder AND pain free. Now we just have to sit back and wait for the bills to roll in. Dam Prius.

If that wasn't enough, my back and forth daily commutes to the sick ward landed me with some type of bug that knocked me out another week after that. And did I mention a large project at the office that was elevated to "top priority" so the whole time I was visiting the hospital I was also toting the laptop so I could work?

I must have been a bear.

So it's probably good I laid off the writing. After all, who wants to hear about accident scenes involving pesky little cars. Dam Prius's!