Go Away Bear! (The Visitors - Part 1)

In my younger days I had probably one of the greatest jobs in the entire world, I wrangled wild black bears. Most of the time I came away unscathed, sometimes I wasn't so lucky... those 12 to 15 pounders can sometimes put up quite the vicious fight. Fortunately the damage they inflicted could usually be covered by a superhero Band-Aid. Usually in the end though, I wrastled them into the cage so they could begin their fattening up process.

My most formidable opponent to date.

Alas...such was the life of a man who cared for orphaned bear cubs. I couldn't really coax the oohs and ahhs out of the crowd when my opponents usually weighed less than my right calf. Though I was working with multiple bears every day they rarely tipped the scales over 20 pounds. Oh how I longed to work with the big boys. If only I could get a chance to work with a bear over a few hundred pounds maybe then my stories could at least earn an "Oh my" out of a girl...even if it was probably only going to be my mom.

I wanted that once-in-a-lifetime chance so bad I begged the lead biologist at the nearby National Park to use me "however he needed me" as a volunteer for bear work. Yep...I was willing to do anything.

Months went by with no return calls.

In the meantime, family came to visit us in our lonely little abode way up in the mountains… some say for support, others say for pity, I say it was for Pigeon Forge. One of those visitors was a distant cousin-in-law and her new boyfriend...well, for the sake of his identity we'll just call him "Bill".  Considering Bill, my wife's cousin, and her five-year-old daughter showed up at our doorstep wearing a Flyin' Petes Sky-Bungee wristband I can't help but think we were serving as a "cheap motel" for their Pigeon Forge vacation.

I didn't care...the bottom line is we had visitors. And if there's one thing that could cure the ailments of a homesick wife, it was talkin' to someone from back home. Before I knew it, the wife, the cousin and that small child thing were headin' into town to buy some "serveneers" for who knows who.

Yep... it was just me and Bill.

A man who I had never laid eyes on before let alone spoken to...standin' in the driveway

{{{Awkward silence...}}}

Me: Long drive?

Bill: Yep

Me: You drive straight through?

Bill: Yep

Me: You must be pretty tired.

Bill: Yep

{{{All right, change strategies… Stop asking questions that could be answered with a single syllable.}}}

Me: So... What do you do for a living?

Bill: I just got out of the Army. I used to jumped out of airplanes.

Me: Well, I'm glad you gave that up...Delta probably wouldn't have been too happy with you. {{{Feeble attempt at an ice-breaker}}}

Bill: I told you we drove down. {{{Attempt failed miserably}}}

Me: Okay...How about a beer Bill?

Bill: Sure. Did you hear I used to jump out of airplanes?

(Note to self… Bill doesn't like to joke and the self-confidence that is instilled in new army recruits is still humming. Seriously...I could literally hear it.)

Me: Yeah, that's pretty cool. Hey, after we drink this I'm going to have to run down to the pens and feed the bears.

Bill: You have REAL bears?

Me: Yeah, I figured you would've been told that by now.

Bill: They said something but I didn't think you had real bears. Can I go down to the pens? I'd love to get in there with them and do some of that bear work.

Me: Sorry Bill… I can't take anyone down there. This isn't any kind of petting zoo. We're trying to get these bears ready for release so they can't be around any people.

Bill: Damn…well you let me know if there's any bear work for me to do. You know I used to jump out of airplanes?

Me: Well... let's toast and drink up because this is sure going to be one hell of a week! {{{I'm quite sure my eyes rolled as I chugged the beer as fast as I could.}}}

**************

Fortunately the next few days weren't so bad. Bill and crew were off bright and early each day returning only at night with more wristbands and serveneers than one could ever imagine. Understandably on the fourth day...they rested. Their plan was to keep us company for a few days, though in the back of my mind I was thinking it was to make sure they had enough gas money to make it back home.

That's when the call came.

"Hey Daryl, it's Kim from the Park. You still interested in doing some bear work for me?"

"Heck yeah!" I exclaimed.

I stopped myself short of telling him he couldn't have called at a better time.

"Whatcha got for me Kim?"

"Well, here's the situation. We've had a really aggressive bear getting into some tents up at campsite #10. We've had it closed down for a couple of weeks. Would you be willing to head up there tonight, camp out, and report back to me on any bear activity?"

Without hesitation I accepted. Kim told me that Mr. Stiver, the other park biologist, would stop by at the center to fill me in before I headed out. I thanked him and was undoubtedly smiling like a turd as I hung up the phone.

I was actually going to get to do REAL bear work!

It wasn't until I hung up the phone that it dawned on me.

My first real assignment and I was asked to be bait!

Oh crap...what the hell did I get myself into?

I don't mind hiking and camping alone… but dang... what if that bear is still around? He said it was pretty aggressive. What the hell does that mean? Is there really a chance a bear would come in the campsite? I can't ask my wife to go with me....

At this point in time, I'm sure a visible light bulb actually went off above my head.

HEY BILL!!!!

(To Be Continued...)

Dad....write down this number...

It is comforting to know my brother and sister share the same frustrations when talking to my Dad on the phone. Love him (Dad) to death but 45 years of working as a mechanic in General Mills takes its toll on a body...ESPECIALLY THE EARS.

**********************

(Recent phone call...)

Me: Hey Dad, how you doing?

Dad: Not too bad.

Me: Good. Well, listen I have that phone number of the repair shop you wanted me to track down. You ready for it?

Dad: Hold on, lem'me get a pen....(long pause).... Okay go ahead...

Me: 6-1-5

Dad: 6-1-9

Me: No...dad... 6-1-5

Dad: Okay...6-2-5

Me: No Dad...Listen...  Six.... One.... Five....

Dad: Got it.... 6-1-5-5

Me: No....dad, I only gave you three numbers... It's 6-1-5.... and stop after the 5!

Dad: Okay...I got it

Me: Got it? Are you sure???

Dad: Yes, I'm sure!

Me: Okay then what is it?

Dad: What is what?

Me: The first three numbers!!!!

Dad: 6.....1......5

Me: Yes!!!!! You got it!

Dad: I know...that's what I've been saying all along.

Me: No...you haven't...but....never mind... We still have seven numbers to go. Alright, ready for the next three?

Dad: 3...

Me: No...don't write down three! Erase that number....(pause)... Did you erase it?

Dad: Yes

Me: Okay good...4-8-7.... Got it?

Dad: Yep

Me: Alright, what did you get?

Dad: What do you mean?

Me: What numbers did you just write down???

Dad: 3-4-8-7

Me: No! Dad...I only gave you three numbers!!!

Dad: I know. That's what I said....three....

Me: Stop!!! Just stop right there! There is no three!!!!

Dad: Then why did you tell me three??

Me: Because that's how many....grrrrr.....just forget it..... Okay just write these numbers down... Four.... Eight.... Seven... Got it?

Dad: Got it.

Me: Tell me what you got.

Dad: 4-K-7

Me: Dad!! No...There are no letters in this phone number!!!!   It's an eight... Not a K!!!

Dad: That's what I said! ....4....7....8

Me: Noooo!!!! It's not 4-7-8!!!  It's Four.... Eight.... Seven... It's 8-7 after the 4!

Dad: 8-7-4

Me: {{{{Silence}}}}

Dad: You still there?

Me: Unfortunately.

Dad: Are you going to tell me the phone number or what?

Me: I'm trying Dad... I swear I'm trying.

Dad: Okay...

Me: Here's what we are going to do Dad.... We are going to go one number at a time and you are going to repeat after me. Got it?

Dad: Got it.

Me: SIX

Dad: 6

Me: ONE

Dad: 1

Me: FIVE

Dad: 5

Me: FOUR

Dad: 4

Me: EIGHT

Dad: H

Me: Noo!!!! EIGHT!!!.... EIGHT!!!.... As in the number after sev....{{{{pause}}}}. It's an EIGHT Dad....it's a number.

Dad: 8

Me: {{{I drop the phone}}} Yes...dad....you got it.

Dad: I know.

Me: and the last number is SEVEN.

Dad: Okay

Me: Say the last number to me Dad.

Dad: 7

Me: Great!!!! Now say all the numbers to me.

Dad: 6-1-5-4-8-7

Me: Yes!!!

Dad: That's the wrong number.

Me: What do you mean it's the wrong number?

Dad: There's not enough numbers in that phone number.

Me: I know! We're not done....the first three numbers were the area code.

Dad: Did you say three?

Me: Nooooo!!!! I did not say three! Well....I did....but..... just forget it....

Dad: Are you gonna give me the numbers or what?

Me: I'm trying Dad.... I swear to god I'm trying....  Okay... Ready?

Dad: Yep

Me: Fourteen.... Thirty

Dad: That's only two numbers.

Me: NOOOOO!!!!

Dad: I know....I know.... Can't you take a joke?

Me: I'm not in the mood to joke Dad.

Dad: I thought it was funny.

Daryl: Fine! Now just read me back the entire phone number.

Dad: 6

Dad: 1

Dad: 5

Dad: 4

Dad: 8

Dad: 7

Dad: 1

Dad: 4

Dad: 3

Dad: 3

Me: OH MY GOD....SO CLOSE!!!!

Dad: What?

Me: The last number is ZERO

Dad: Thats what I said.

Me: No you didn't.... You said three.

Dad: Well I have a ZERO on my paper.... should I change it the three????

Me: NOOOOO!!!!! DON'T TOUCH THAT PAPER!!!!

Dad: You sure?

Me: Yes.... That's the number you need to call (615) 487-1430...they'll take your ATV in and get it fixed.

Dad: Oh...didn't I tell you?

Me: Tell me what??

Dad: My ATV is working fine... I just forgot to put gas in it.

{{{{click}}}}

PS - Now it may not have been EXACTLY like that but ask any one of my brothers or sister and they'll tell you it's pretty darn close.

PS - Dad...if you're reading this.... I LOVE YOU DAD!!! :)

The Stick Bear

The Cades Cove bear with quite a remarkable story.

Though the bear center had officially documented and released their first bear the year prior, a bear called "Zero", it was done without much attention or fanfare. Much of the facility was still under construction at the time and there really was not much of a facility at all. Now that a fully functional facility was complete we were ready to begin our mission of black bear advocacy. Besides education and research one of the objectives of the center was to provide a place for the National Park Service and the Tennessee Wildlife Resources Agency to bring orphaned or injured bears should they need assistance. Up to this point in time, the only assistance we provided was to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service caring for a couple of non-releasable black bears (Dakota and Sara). The bear that started the constant flow of attention and notoriety for the center came from one of the most beautiful places on earth, a place called Cades Cove, located on the western half of Great Smoky Mountains National Park. 

Here is "Cadey's" story...

****************

Not many folks consider feeding a couple of beautiful cinnamon-colored black bears as part of their daily routine, but that was mine. That routine changed when a call came in from Kim Delozier, head biologist at the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

"Hey Daryl, you guys up and ready to go at the center? I think we have a bear for you." Kim bellowed with his powerfully deep but friendly voice.

Kim was well aware of the Herculean effort it took to get the facility up and running. As one of the lead designers of the bear pens, Kim knew first-hand of the great service the bear center could provide to his agency, the National Park Service.

"We're ready to go Kim, what's up?"

"We had a bear wander into Cades Cove campground a few days ago and it looked pitiful...it was literally a bag of bones. Anyway, Rick trapped it last night and we were going to move it but we didn't think it'd survive. We just took it to the UT vet clinic to see if it has any internal injuries. If they determine the bear is ok, would you be willing to take her for a bit to fatten her up? I'd like to get some weight on her before she's released."

"You know we will," I said with a grin.

About an hour later I received word that the bear was on its way.

************

Oftentimes you remember meeting someone for the first time. How often does that occur when the person you meet is cradling a sedated bear in his arms? (See opening pic!)

That's how I met Rick Varner.

I had been down in the wild enclosure making sure all was set to receive our new arrival. There wasn't much to do since we had been preparing for this moment for many years, but as a perfectionist I couldn't help but double and triple check things. As I was examining the electric fence to make sure it was free of debris, I heard the truck door slam in the distance. The technician from the Park had arrived with the bear.

When I crested the hill to the drive I saw the heavy metal transport cage in the back of the NPS truck. Rick had checked in with my wife (the other full-time volunteer though she didn't know it) to make sure I was there. Assured that I was, he began prepping the bear. Since she was still pretty groggy from her visit to the vet clinic Rick only had to give her a small dose of sedative to buy us enough time to carry her by hand down to the main pen. Hence being greeted by a man with a bear in his arms was quite the treat.

Her placement in the freshly-prepared bear pen was anti-climactic, her story on the other hand, was quite the opposite.

**************

Upon arriving at the vet clinic, the doctors could plainly see the advanced emaciation her frame projected but they were also made aware of a visible limp she exhibited while traipsing through the campground. They soon went to work and began prepping her for a thorough examination. As a precaution they knocked her out with a cocktail of sedatives so she could easily be poked, prodded and x-rayed, if necessary. Her first stop, however...the scales.

A woeful...49 lbs!

"

The bear was literally a "bag of bones."

Yearlings bears that do not receive adequate nutrition oftentimes do not grow. They remain structurally small. This is why the general public often mistakes malnourished yearlings for first year cubs. However, considering some yearlings can weigh less than 20 lbs if food sources are scarce, 49 lbs does not sound all that drastic. Unfortunately, this bear's frame suggested otherwise. Instead her skeletal structure hinted she was probably a bit older than that but in order to accurately determine her age it would have been necessary to pull one of her teeth. It simply wasn't that necessary.

Something lie hidden below the skin of her right hind leg.

Next came the prodding.

At first, all appeared normal until they examined her back legs. The interior of her left hind leg exhibited a small scar with some type of callous formation beneath. Without any apparent broken bones they decided to do exploratory surgery where the scar lay. Given it's location, extra care had to be given so as not to damage or rupture the femoral artery. Remarkably, and much to their relief, they found exactly what was ailing the bear.

The "stick" that veterinarians removed from her leg.

Inside the bear's leg was a 4-inch stick that was lodged within her muscle!

The doctors removed the intrusion and stitched her back up. The rest of her examination revealed no other concerns.

Fortunately, her emaciated condition could easily be explained. How the stick got there, simply could not.

It is presumed the bear fell from a tree and impaled herself, either on the way down or upon the landing. The offending branch then broke off and became lodged deep within the wound. The injury severely limited her mobility and in her incapacitated condition she was lured to the easiest and most deadly source of food...human handouts (aka trash).

Regardless of how the injury occurred, her growing dependence on non-natural foods was her greatest ailment. A quick surgery, a brief but bountiful recovery period, and an expeditious release was exactly what the doctor ordered.

And the bear center delivered.

After six weeks the leg was completely healed.

***************

"Cadey" was released approximately six weeks after her surgery. 

On a bright sunny day, with scores of tourists and a handful of news crews on hand, a healthy 70-lb. black bear burst forward and galloped across a shimmering field of green and gold, pausing but for a brief moment undoubtedly to say thanks and farewell.

The day of Cadey's release was glorious...

....and after a brief pause...she was gone.

Loving Wildlife to Death

If you care...Please Leave Me BE!
(...or contact authorities if there is a true concern. Don't take matters into your own hands.)

Although the bear center does not have authority to handle bears in the wild, because of our line of work, it was quite common for us to receive phone calls from concerned citizens.

Here is how one such call unfolded…

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Me: Appalachian Bear Center, Daryl speaking.

Caller: I have a bear here you need to come and get.

Me: I'm sorry I didn't quite understand. What exactly did you say?

Caller: I said, I have a bear here you need to come and rescue! You need to hurry!

Me: Hold on ma'am... I can't personally come out and help you but I can get someone that can. Can you give me a little bit more information about what is going on?

Caller: Sure...there is a bear in my apple tree.

Me: {{{long unintentional pause}}}

Caller: You need to come get it.

Me: Why would we need to do that? Is there something wrong with the bear?

Caller: Yes.... it's by itself!

Me: Ma'am, bears are usually solitary creatures. Unless it is a mother with cubs they often live alone.

Caller: You don't understand… It's a cub!

Me: {{{Silently thinking… Yay, we are finally getting somewhere!}}}

Caller: Hurry up you need to come get it!

Me: Hold on ma'am, I need to get a few more details.... How big would you say he is?

Caller: He is about 20 or 30 pounds. Can you come get him now?

Me: Ma'am, the cub sounds to be of pretty good size for this time of year and it's not unusual for them to be left alone for a short time while mom goes out to feed. It's probably best if you just leave the cub alone and wait for its mother to return.

Caller: No! You need to come out here and get it right away!

Me: How long has it been there?

Caller: Since this morning.

Me: Ma'am, at this point we don't know if it is orphaned or not.

Caller: I know it is! That's why I called you.

Me: How do you know it is orphaned?

Caller: Because other bears are trying to come in and kill it!

Me: Excuse me?

Caller: The cub has been in my tree all morning and there are two or three other bears that keep coming to the tree trying to kill it!

Me: How do you know they're trying to kill it?

Caller: They keep trying to get at the tree.

Me: But ma'am it's an apple tree. Couldn't they just be trying to get at the apples?

Caller: They seem interested in the cub.

Me: Ma'am, it could be because one of those bears is its mother.

Caller: We're not taking the chance that it's not.

Me: We? ....who's "we"?

Caller: My husband and I.

Me: Where is your husband now?

Caller: He's outside protecting the cub.

Me: He's what?

Caller: I said, he's outside protecting the cub.

Me: Ma'am, what exactly do you mean by that?

Caller: I mean he's guarding the cub from all the other bears that are trying to come in.

Me: How is he doing that?

Caller: He's standing at the base of the tree. When one of the adult bears tries approaching, he scares it away.

Me: Ma'am, please have your husband come inside. One of those bears is probably the mother.

Caller: No it's not.

Me: How do you know.

Caller: They're all males.

Me: How do you know that?

Caller: Because they're acting all aggressive.

Me: Ma'am, please have your husband comes inside, if not for the cub's sake than at least for his own safety.

Caller: Oh...you don't have to worry about him.

Me: Why not?

Caller: He knows karate.

Me: {{{Silence}}}

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

This is a true story. Fortunately there was a happy ending and I was able to contact authorities who advised the husband to go inside while the momma bear returned to retrieve her cub. Funny as it sounds, it's a serious problem. Each year, well-intentioned citizens cause the orphaning and potential death of thousands of our wildlife believing the animals are in need of rescue. Albeit, living in the wild can be a hard and sometimes dangerous endeavor, it's where wild animals belong and are best suited to survive...not in human hands. National headlines were made recently when a concerned citizen "saved" a bison calf in Yellowstone National Park. Fearing the calf was getting 'too cold', he put it in his vehicle and brought it back to Park Headquarters. Unfortunately when Park staff tried to reunite the calf with its mother, the female bison rejected it. This resulted in the calf having to be euthanized. I promise all parties involved were distressed at the final outcome.

If you truly care for wildlife, please let them be wild.

The Neonatals (Part 3) - And Then They Were Gone

Three weeks had passed since Lina was placed with her foster mom in the Big South Fork. Though it was a treat to care for her siblings, Caro and Newbern, fears began to arise as to what we would do with the cubs if no foster mothers could be found. Habituation is a slow death sentence for a wild bear and life in a cage or behind a fence would be no life at all. I shuddered to think about those options. A mom had to be found.

Our hopes resided in Dr. Pelton, a renowned black bear researcher based out of the University of Tennessee. He had, at the time, the longest ongoing black bear research project in the nation. What this equated to was radio collared bears. They were out there, they just needed to be found.

Finding a bear in a den would not be

possible without a tracking collar.

Finding a collared bear is very much an art form in itself. Though one can be taught the intricacies of the method, the more you do it the better you become. Working the equipment, reading maps and terrain, putting boots to the ground, and having a deep understanding of bear behavior are the beginning bare essentials for radio-tracking a black bear. Thankfully Dr. Pelton employed a cadre of grad students who earned their keep doing such tasks.

How are collared bears located?

Finding a radio collar is sometimes as much art as it is science.

***Warning - Teaching Moment!***
The collar sends out a "ping" that corresponds to the frequency of that particular collar. The tracking equipment itself consists of a receiver and an antenna. Think of it simply as a listening device. That device provides you with two key pieces of information, distance and direction. This is where the "art" of tracking comes into play for there is no direct measure. Rather the distance is gauged by the strength of the signal coming out of the receiver, or how loud the ping sounds. The closer one gets to the collar obviously the louder it pings. The direction, on the other hand, is provided by the antenna. The strength of the signal is dependent upon the orientation of the antenna, or which way it's pointing. Picture yourself on the peak of a mountain and you hear a faint ping with the antenna facing east. You turn the antenna southward and the ping disappears, northward and it disappears again. The antenna just revealed the signal is coming due east.

Now there's a bunch of other neat little tricks (such as triangulation or using an airplane!) but for the most part, with the right equipment, you're able to "hone-in" on the collars. Sounds easy?

Okay...now go find the collar. Oh and by the way, it's liable to be somewhere in the mountains of Tennessee or North Carolina.

Now you can see why we wait with bated breath to find a suitable mom.

And it doesn't stop there, once you find the bear tucked snuggly away in their winters den, we need to make sure she is healthy and has cubs of her own.

It is a mighty tall order to fill… Thankfully we had one of the best in the world working on it.

***********************

The call came and the waiting game was finally over.

Bitter sweetness.

Two viable females had been found and their dens had been marked. Though they were miles apart they were inextricably linked, or at least they would be soon.

University of TN researchers"working up" a female.

Working up a bear at the den site is an exhaustive effort, it takes manpower. Usually the female is extracted from the den to make data collection easier. This is of course provided the den is on the ground. Should the den be located high up in a hollowed-out tree then one lucky researcher climbs the tree while the others assist, mostly with manning ropes and equipment. This task is usually reserved for the smallest and lightest (and least fearful of heights!) of the group. I am still undecided if I should have damned or thanked those wonderful childhood Snickers, for I was undoubtedly ruled out. In retrospect, a part of me sought the thrill of sticking my head into the crevice of a dark and hollowed tree while peering down upon a slumbering bear. Then again, the other part of me says, "Thank God I didn't have to stick my head into the crevice of a dark crevice of a dark and hollowed tree while peering down upon a slumbering bear!"

But I sure did love watching others do it! (Hehe)

Fortunately (or unfortunately) for us, both dens were on the ground and fairly simple to access. The plan, therefore, was to foster Newbern the first day followed by Caro the next. 

Very much like Lina's release day, Newbern's and Caro's releases went off without a hitch. As one could imagine, the weekend in which the two cubs were released went by way too fast and all that lingers are memories and a few scant pics.

Caro's last bottle ever...and then the squawling began!

The one vivid memory I have from Caro's release was the fact that Caro was quite unhappy about being fed only once that morning. This caused her to bawl for a good part of the hike. I had slipped her inside the front pocket of my jacket and would occasionally provide her my finger to suckle, much like a pacifier, in an attempt to keep her quiet. It rarely lasted long. She was one unhappy cub.

While we were ascending the ridge to where her foster mom awaited, our lead researcher, Jay, became a little disoriented since he had approached the den from the opposite side of the mountain a few days prior. In other words, he was having trouble locating the den. In the meantime, I had finally managed to soothe Caro into a momentary hiatus from squalling. This was when Jay grabbed my arm and whispered in my ear...

"Keep the cub quiet..."

"...the bear den is right behind you."

At that exact point in time my mind immediately began painting a picture of six guys standing in a rough circle playing "hot potato" with a distressed bear cub.

If this scenario does not make much sense, try this...picture standing a few feet away from a mama bear with a bevy of cubs, suddenly one of her cubs begins bawling inconsolably while you stand but a mere few feet away.... "holding it".

My buttocks finally unclenched when I had eased my way back down out of immediate earshot of the den.

From that point on, everything went smoothly and Caro had a new mom.

Looking back, reflection on these once-in-a-lifetime experiences continues to humble and amaze me. They also provide me with great joy. I can say without a shadow of a doubt that few reading this story have ever experienced something similar. If only you could see through my minds eye what I have seen I would gladly share those experiences for they are much to priceless to horde.

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

As you can tell I can not help but stray in my writings as I try to educate whenever possible. Not all stories and life lessons are meant to end with an incredible triumph or a heart breaking loss. They ALL, however, inform... whether its new or reinforced information. Hopefully my writings make the acquisition of knowledge a wee bit more fun.

Timber and Blaze

Not every single bear story from the early years of the ABR resulted in a happy ending but many did. And then there are those that are truly remarkable...

"Blaze"

Three years and 30-some bears into the ABR's existence, the bear center turned a major corner. Other than the neonatals, which came from North Carolina and were quickly fostered to natural mothers, all the rehabilitated and released cubs had come from Tennessee or from the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. All that changed in the summer of 1999.

David Goad, the Arkansas Fish and Game Commission's (AFGC) bear biologist, gave me a surprise call in mid-July. Had it not been for the extenuating circumstances they encountered, it is highly likely the AFGC wouldn't have searched so vigorously for our assistance. Those circumstances were of course two orphan black bear cubs. The "extenuating" circumstances, on the other hand, were the means in which they were acquired.

As the story goes...a poacher in the western part of their state had killed a female black bear with two small cubs in tow. Upon the death of the mother, the poacher turned his attention to the cubs in hopes of capturing the pair. For what reason? One can only guess.

Like well-trained soldiers, the cubs heeded their instincts or quite possibly their mother's lessons and climbed the nearest tall tree. Not to be outsmarted by six-month old bears, the poacher did the unthinkable. He cut down the tree.

Miraculously, upon crashing to the ground, the male cub survived the calamity unscathed. His sister, however, wasn't so lucky. Though she survived, she sustained massive injuries including two compound fractures of both her femurs. She was immediately rendered incapacitated and literally was unable to crawl away.

How the AFGC came to capture this gentleman and acquire all this information, I do not know nor do I care. I am just happy they did so.

A few days later, having exhausted their in-state options, David got a hold of me and asked if we might be able to give them a hand.

Without hesitation I told him we would do everything within our power to help the cubs but unfortunately we had to clear numerous hurdles since this action required quick and seemless collaboration between two state wildlife agencies who had never encountered a request such as this before. Throw in an 10+ hour drive after all the paperwork was approved and you can see why the clock was ticking rather rapidly.

I am happy to say numerous individuals stepped to the plate from both states and did a phenomenal job getting this ball rolling so the cubs could come to the center for treatment. Having said that, it was still a full five days after the incident that we finally laid our hands on the Arkansas cubs.

They were immediately rushed to the Vet school at the University of Tennessee and placed under the care of Dr. Ramsay.

We waited with bated breath to hear the prognosis.

The male cub as expected was in perfect health. His sister was the one we were worried about.

The news was heartbreaking.

Each femur had suffered a complete fracture and the bones were displaced, literally laying side-by-side. Normally this would not have been a big deal since orthopedists could perform a quick surgery, insert a metal rod and re-align the broken bones.

It was the five-day lag that killed us.

Over the course of that time the cub's body tried in vain to heal itself. Because the two pieces of fractured femur were lying side-by-side, they began to repair itself and formed a callous formation making the procedure for "setting the leg" nearly impossible. In other words, it was a tangled mass of bone that created a situation too risky to be surgically repaired. And unfortunately this occurred in BOTH legs.

Dr. Ramsay broke the news to us. I could see it in his eyes and hear in his voice how upsetting this was to him as well. Other then her two broken legs the cub appeared to sustain no other injuries.

Because of her will to survive and incredible power to heal, he advised we take her back to the center, keep her confined, give her her meds, and "hope for the best".

In a few weeks he would re-examine her and make a decision as to what needed to be done.

With that we welcomed our first out-of-state cubs Timber (male) and Blaze (female).

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The intention was to place Blaze in the one and only confinement cage the center had, a small 6x4x4 chain-link enclosure. Having never needed this equipment before we had to improvise, something the center would become quite adept at over their long and storied existence.

The make shift recovery room for Blaze.

We placed the cage within the wild enclosure a short distance from the perimeter fence. We then rigged feeding tubes to reduce the human exposure as much as possible and still allow us to feed and administer medication to our recovering patient.

Upon returning from the vet school the cubs were placed in their temporary home. Timber was quite healthy and a perfect candidate for the large wild-enclosure, so he was placed in the enclosure nearby Blaze to hopefully provide comfort to his now-healing sister.

As one would expect they comforted each other.

A few days had gone by and all appeared well. Then the typical brother/sister scene unfolded. They wanted to kill each other!

Not literally...but as young siblings often do, they got into a heated argument, with both bears being extremely riled.

As most people know, mock fighting is quite common among young bears since it builds strength and develops muscle coordination. This behavior also develops bonds among young siblings. As much as I feared for Blaze to re-injure her legs in her excited state I couldn't help but notice…she was climbing and scampering about her cage with the greatest of ease!

About another week passed and both cubs were growing more and more rambunctious…they wanted to re-unite!

After consulting with Dr. Ramsay he said, "Have at it!".  It appeared as if her body was going to repair her legs whether we liked it or not and that was completely fine by us!

Blaze taking timid steps on her healing legs before joining
her sibling, Timber in the wild enclosure.

The big day arrived when Blaze finished her meds and we would reunite the cubs in the wild enclosure.

It was joyously uneventful.

Don't get me wrong, it was a wonder to see Blaze run and climb trees with the same speed and vigor as her brother. In fact, had it not been for her decreased stature due to her crooked hind legs, the two cubs would've been identical.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turn into months and the cubs grew.

Two months after arriving at the center in extreme dire condition, Blaze and Timber almost tripled in size, growing from 15 pounds to just over 40 pounds. Their triumphant return home was arranged.

It was incredibly gratifying to see representatives from the AGFC amazed at the results we achieved. Not only had the bear center worked wonders for the cubs but the story that Arkansas could now tell was one that would win over the hearts of many.

And even more importantly, it solidified the ABR as a legitimate and valuable Southeastern resource and not just a Tennessee resource. We were on our way!



Timber anxiously awaiting the return of his sister.



Blaze, a little crooked but as good as new!

Exploring the Caja

Field Day #2 - Exploring the Caja

April 26, 2016 - Julie, Will, and I decided to make a day out of exploring the Caja, an 84,000 acres volcanic field about 20 miles west of Santa Fe, New Mexico. Before anyone gets any delusions of grandeur of spewing cones of molten lava or deadly plumes of gaseous sulphur dioxide...STOP.

The mother volcano, a beast of a formation northwest of the Caja, erupted approximately 1.4 million years ago, so to say the area is relatively tame from a volcanic standpoint is a gross understatement. I am sure many geologist would argue that point with me but they look at geologic time in a much different way. What looks like an incredible flurry of geologic activity to them looks like a canyon full of black rocks to me. Fortunately for us, we both see the same canyon as stunningly beautiful.

Our objective for the day however, was not to look at rocks. Rather, we were hoping to find another owl. This time, it was a western burrowing owl and there was going to be no "mousing" involved. For the non-birders like me, western burrowing owls are the owls you see, usually in pictures albeit, using the hollowed out remains of old abandoned prairie dog towns. And if you do not know what mousing means, well, you will just have to read about Field Day #1.

Julie, an incredible naturalist and superb "ologist" in every way, had spotted the rare visitor last year. It was the first known instance of that species on the Caja so documenting its return would be a great thing. And just in case we had an uncooperative bird who didn't want to show, we would take a trek into the Santa Fe gorge to look for another elusive creature, the northern leopard frog. Hey! I am living in New Mexico, amphibians and desert don't mix!

Guess what?

Examination of owl pellets reveals a healthy diet of stinkbugs.

The bird was a no show. It was probably due to the high winds and below normal temperatures we were experiencing but all was not lost. We did find a burrow with ample owl sign, feathers and pellets and such, so things are looking up for a return of the owls to the Caja. So instead of being sandblasted by the winds on the Caja we decided to drop down into the gorge to see if we could find some frogs.


What a difference it made. Descending just below the rim of the mesa, the winds ceased and the radiant heat from the sun warmed our faces. The descent down the rocky trail undoubtedly got our juices flowing as well.

It was such a joy to hike with other naturalists who like to stop periodically to identify plants and animals and pretty much ask lots of questions. It is not only good for the brains it is good for the lungs which I find nowadays to be starved oxygen on these high mountain adventures. On the way back UP the trail I am already planning a series of questions so I can strategically catch my breath.

A vibrant village thrived at this very site over 1,000 years ago.

As we descend further into the rift below the thin line of greenery catches my eye and I stop to admire how valuable the water resource is in this otherwise barren area. It signifies life. The long time inhabitants of this area were extremely intelligent and resourceful beings since, unbeknownst to me, I am staring at the remains of an old Native American village. I only know this since it was pointed out to me by my hiking mates. What's even more special is that it is not cordoned off nor are there any signposts pointing the way. The village lies hidden beneath the history of time only covered by ignorance and apathy from the average "tourist". And for that I am grateful.

I couldn't help but feel I was treading on sacred ground.

In a field of volcanic rock I am awestruck at petroglyphs that still abound, lonely and untouched, within this vast landscape. Only later after showing the pictures to our archaeologist will I find out that these works of art were created somewhere around 900 A.D. As I walk it is humbling and in some ways awkward, a guilty feeling pervades as if I am trespassing on sacred ground.

The floor of the canyon does not disappoint as the meandering river serves as an oasis to most of the wildlife in the area. Birds, mammals and amphibians abound along the river and I take furious notes on all the different species we encounter. It's embarrassing having to ask so many questions but in my defense most of these species are new to me. I was okay with most of the birds which included a myriad of horned larks, a beautiful kestrel, and the cliffside nest of a golden eagle. Where I truly faltered however were the plants. Snake weed, Buffalo grass, chamissa, locoweed, chocolate flower, perky sue, orange globe mallow, and three-leaf sumac were not typically found in my old stomping grounds. Hopefully soon I'll get to know them by heart.

But alas...no leopard frogs.

As we make the slow question-filled ascent to our awaiting vehicle I can't help but feel an urge to be thankful for living in an area so beautiful and so rich in life, both in the blatant present and the hidden past. It's like the secret I can't wait to tell but hesitant to reveal.

I tell you what, you come out here and I may show you the secrets but until then, I am quite content with apathy and ignorance.

Other petroglyphs from the day...

Wondering about all the sites I missed yet for once I am content to be ignorant.