Black Bear Facts
Of all the places in this world where I have been, a northern Pennsylvania beech ridge in November would have to be my favorite. Squirrels, grouse, turkey, deer, and black bear all are nearby somewhere. If you are able to sit still a half hour or so, you may see one or all of them. It was on my favorite beech ridge one day that I saw a big old black bear feeding close to the trunk of a large tree. It was a rare chance to do some black bear stalking, my favorite sport. I eased myself around until I got the tree between us and started what turned out to be my most successful stalk. The breeze was blowing in fitful little gusts that would let me creep forward a few feet at a time. It took time and patience, but I finally made it to the tree. I peered cautiously around the right side of the tree, and there he was, six feet away, quartering away from the tree facing the faint flow of air. The bear’s hindquarters were no more than three feet away, around to the left. The black bear was right handed and could brush away the leaves with hardly a sound. I watched him a long time and finally got to wondering what his reaction would be if I slapped that big fat rump. I had to find out. I got down on my knees and took off my hat so it wouldn’t attract attention. I kept as low as possible and inched forward until I was directly back of him; I crept forward another foot. I was within reach and slowly raised my hand, but at this instant my luck ran out. A quick little whirlwind spun the leaves around and gave him my scent. In a flash he had changed ends and stood facing me. And there we were, face to face and eyeball to eyeball. I knew then as well as I do now that Pennsylvania black bears are harmless or did I? For a minute it was a bit scary, but he decided to leave. He wouldn’t lose his dignity by running, but just turned slowly and ambled away down through the woods for maybe a hundred yards; then he began to step on the gas. When he went out of sight, he was really rambling.
Black Bear Hunting in Winter
One year near the end of deer season, several days of intense cold and then a big snowstorm had driven all the hunters out of the woods and had let me (as the game warden) get caught up with my office work. All season I had been too busy to even think of hunting. It was a clear, cold day, not a cloud in the sky. I felt the old urge coming on. I wanted to fill my lungs with cold mountain air, to get the feel of snowshoes on my feet and the thrill of walking on the snow, not wading through it. I knew of a sunny hillside in the western part of the county where the deer just might be moving; I drove up there and managed to get my car off the highway. I put on my snowshoes, picked up my rifle, and started up the narrow valley. What was I doing with that gun? I knew I wouldn’t kill a deer if the biggest buck in the county stood up and dared me. I carefully scanned the hillside on my right; a few small trees were scattered here and there with occasionally a patch of laurel or a clump of red brush (red Osier to you arrow wood to the Indians). I walked slowly, enjoying every minute of it. I must have covered more than a mile, but there was nothing, not even a chickadee. I turned and climbed the steep hillside all the way to the top of the hogback ridge, and then there ahead of me was a track, a bear track, a muddy black bear track, in deep snow. It was headed right down the backbone of the ridge in the direction of my car. I decided to follow it and see what I could learn. One thing I thought for sure was that when you see a bear track in deep snow in mid December it would be a male bear that made it. I so reported it at the time. Now I have changed my mind; it surely was a female.
Where Bears Spend the Winter
A male black bear will sometimes pick a poor place to spend the winter, but I don’t believe he would build a nest where it could be flooded out. On the other hand, a female bear usually goes into the ground, digging back under the roots of a big fallen tree. If flooded out, she sure would have muddy feet. After a bit, she turned abruptly to the right and went down the steep slope fifty yards or so looking for something. She looked all around in every direction but, not finding what she was looking for, she backtracked up to her former line of travel. After a short distance she stopped again, turned, and went down the slope directly to what she had been looking for, a cradle knoll with an unusually deep depression back of it. Now, cradle knolls on a steep hillside are a dime a dozen, so there had to be another reason why she had spotted this particular one for a possible emergency. A few feet below the knoll was the burned out shell of an enormous pine stump, leaving a ring of irregular dry slabs two or three inches thick, and, what was more important, they were decayed enough at the base for her to break them off with one blow of her big paw. You can now begin to see why I claim the black bear is a thinking animal. The black bear broke off the nearest slab, roughly two feet by a foot and a half, and placed it crosswise in the depression. Then she broke off another one and placed it beside the first. The next one wouldn’t break off, although the bear gave it some rough treatment with tooth and claw, so she left it and found one farther around that she could get, and she put it beside the others for a nice, dry bed. However, she could still improve it. A few feet away was a beech thicket with all the dry leaves still hanging on it. She stripped off enough to cover the hard slabs, and now she was ready for a much needed rest. Right then she looked up and saw me coming. Of course, that was before I saw her, so she walked over into a patch of thick laurel and waited for me to go on about my business. She stood there within forty feet of me all the while I was inspecting the whole amazing project. Trouble was that when I left, I again took the track, and when I went in one side of the little thicket she went out the other, loping down over the point of the ridge and across the main valley. When one gives a little serious thought to a matter like this, it becomes evident that this behavior cannot be casually dismissed as just another case of animal instinct. When I give the animals credit for the intelligence they seem to have, it gives me a new respect for and understanding of them. But, I hasten to admit, you can never tell what they will do next. Please click on the following link to read Les Wood’s next article: tips on black bear hunting. © 2010.
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