Chinook
by George Hosier II  - August 6, 2007

Trouble Bruin

Is anybody else as thrilled and excited as I am about the rash of recent grizzly sightings in the Tanana Loop area? I love to view wildlife. I find it particularly exhilarating when I am able to have a close-up encounter with one of our woodland friends. There’s nothing like the adrenaline rush of having a squirrel take a scrap of bread from your hand, having a chickadee perch on your finger, having a butterfly land on your nose or being close enough to a grizzly to smell it’s rustic breath and count the darling little scraps of rotten meat jammed between its incisors.

The most frustrating thing about these recent sightings is the fact that although neighbors all around me have seen at least two different bears within a 50 foot to 5 mile radius of my property, for some reason I haven’t been fortunate enough to personally experience their noble presence. Ironically, they will go to visit some grouchy guy who empties a shotgun worth of buckshot into them for merely attempting to sample his dog on the front porch. They will drop in on a coworker in the middle of the night who has a paranoid husband that fires Roman candles at them. They will join a neighbor kid on an ATV ride, jog along like a devoted dog, and reach out to give him an affectionate slap, but will they come and see me? So far, not a chance! I have even taken to going out to my field and pinching my goats from time to time to make them squall in hopes that one of the grizzlies will perk up and amble over to investigate. Fat chance.

By the time this goes to press, I fear that one or more of the dear little fellows may have been apprehended by jack-booted fish and game storm troopers and turned into a rug. In the meantime, I urge everyone who, like me, longs to caress a real live grizzly bear in his natural habitat, to utilize some of the following proven techniques to increase your odds of experiencing one of life’s most memorable experiences—a personal face-to-face bonding relationship with a grizzly bear.

If you are ever feeling a little down, a bear visit may be just the thing to cheer you up. After only a few moments of watching the adorable antics of a big old fuzzball, it seems that one’s troubles always gain a new perspective. For the really despondent days, sneaking a quick bear hug almost seems to provide an endorphin rush that will carry you through the rest of the day.

The most foolproof method of assuring a bear visit is to feed it. Never mind that it is illegal. I don’t know how the people who write the laws expect us to see bears if they don’t let us feed them. Don’t the politicians know that a bear is basically I gigantic stomach with an industrial strength nose attached? The claws are just accessories for digging up, prying apart and smacking things that come between it and its food, and the teeth are for making the food stop trying to get away, and tearing it into swallowable chunks.

Fortunately for us bearwatchers, a bear will eat just about anything, so it is fairly easy to come up with something that will draw them. Garbage. Birdseed. Horse food. Dog food. Barbecue grills. Garbage. Fish guts. Meat scraps. Compost. Seaweed. Garbage. Chickens. Rabbits. Dogs. Garbage. Cats. Goats. Horses. Sheep. Small squealing children. Garbage. Snacks. Blood. Garbage. Large squealing men. Garbage. If you toss it, they will come.

When in doubt about the culinary preferences of your local bear, you can’t go wrong using bacon grease. Here are some simple bacon grease techniques that anybody can employ to virtually assure at least a glimpse of a bear if not a warm embrace. Use bacon grease for hair gel. Bacon grease works well as a soothing lotion for dry, chapped skin. A little bacon grease rubbed under your nose at night before you roll into your sleeping bag reduces snoring. Try lubricating your backpack buckles with bacon grease to eliminate squeaking. This has the added advantage of making your hike more silent, thus minimizing the chance of spooking any particularly shy bears that may be in the vicinity. Bacon grease makes a great bug dope. It doesn’t repel the bugs, but they stick to it like flypaper.

Camping out of doors provides an ideal opportunity to become one with your bear friends. Here as everywhere else it is critical to maximize the food appeal of your campsite if you hope for a rewarding bear encounter. Avoid those stodgy, killjoy bear-proof containers. Not only do they sterilize the scent of any food you place within, but bears have Attention Deficit Disorder and quickly lose interest in any container they can not crush, rupture, pry apart, slash, puncture or shred.

Make sure you cook something very smelly right beside your tent. In fact, you might want to consider cooking it inside your tent if you enjoy the cheery blaze of burning nylon, and don’t feel like lugging your tent back home. Bacon is ideal. Let the grease splatter all over your clothing and your tent wall. After the food is prepared, eat it sloppily. Dribble gouts of it onto the front of your shirt. Spill it into the silt-laden moss at your feet. When you are full, give the leftovers a toss into the alders nearby.

You will probably use your cookware and mess kit the next morning so don’t bother washing them. Leave them laying on the ground by the fire pit. Lean your backpack against a tree with the food pocket open in case you get the urge for a midnight snack. Before you turn in, make sure you transfer half a dozen granola bars, a bag of snack mix, a bottle of blueberry smoothie, and a jumbo pack of smoked jerky to your tent. Eat half of it while you and your tent mate exchange ghost stories, allowing the crumbs to delicately enhance the texture of your tent floor and sleeping bag.

What you do not eat right away, place within easy reach beside your sleeping bag so that you may grab it during the night to feed to any bear that may show up. After you fall asleep, roll over onto your stash and wallow around energetically, until anything that may remain sealed bursts open spewing crushed crumbs into the atmosphere like a mini volcano. If you’re fortunate, you may even be able to smear chocolate chips into your beard and soak your socks with blueberry smoothie.

Of course, if you happen to be hunting or fishing, your chance of rubbing shoulders with bears increases exponentially. In these situations, all you really need to do to experience the thrill of a bear encounter is to stack your bloody moose quarters beside your tent. Also, be sure to bring your bloody knife into the tent with you, along with your bloody gloves, and for good measure cut off a fresh slab of raw moose meat to munch on in the tent to demonstrate your machismo.

Clean your fish while sitting on your campstool outside your tent, and give the heads and guts a random toss over your shoulder. When you’re done, wipe the blood and slime off on a handful of leaves and toss them into the same alder bushes where you tossed your leftover food. This will certainly summon the seagulls for your personal viewing pleasure, and a hovering swarm of screeching gulls is an unmistakable invitation to any bear within earshot to join the fun.

You’ll run into a lot of old Alaskans that mumble about the advice I’m giving you here. They’ll try to tell you to keep your food and toothpaste at least a hundred yards from camp, either in a bear-proof container, or strung high above the ground. They’ll tell you to make noise while you’re in bear country so that you will alert bears to your presence. They’ll tell you not to camp on game trails, and to butcher your game well away from your camp. They’ll insist on wearing no perfume or cologne, and giving bears a wide berth. They’ll tell you to clean your fish at the water and throw the fish parts back in the ocean or river to minimize smell. They’ll tell you to pack your trash out with you and dispose of it in a secure dumpster.

Ignore them. They’re just saying that because they hate bears. They have become so jaded by their sourdough status that they would just as soon never see a bear. I bet if you asked them, they would have to admit that they hardly ever see bears, and have never experienced the joy of hugging one. Pity them, but do not follow their advice.

A number of years ago, a friend of mine discovered the wonder of bear bonding. He had awoken early in the morning and set out for Quicksand Creek near Moose Hole to catch a stringer of grayling. In only an hour or so he had his limit, so he found a comfy cushion of sphagnum where he deposited his sitter. He leaned his back against an old spruce stump, slung his stringer of fish over a branch beside him and settled in to chew some jerky and ponder the wonders of the universe.

Soon the effects of his early rising, the hypnotic murmur of the creek and the relaxing warmth of the Alaskan summer sun conspired to lull him into a dreamless nap. The unfinished strip of jerky sagged neglected between his lips. An indeterminate time later he was awakened by the sound of snoring. He hated it when he woke himself up snoring like that.

He snorted in frustration and nearly gagged. Whew! Not only had he been snoring, he seemed to have developed a brutal case of morning breath. Something felt odd on his lips and chin, in approximately the spot where he had last remembered his jerky being located. He swiped at the location. A viscous, foamy substance came off on the back of his hand. Great! He’d been drooling, too. Time to head home. Groggily he groped for his stringer of fish. It was lying on the ground…empty!

About then he became aware that he hadn’t stopped snoring yet. A sonorous rumble accented with a whistle undulated on the air. Wait a minute! How could that be? He was awake. Who was snoring if it wasn’t him? He leaned on his elbow and swiveled his head to peer around at the north side of the stump. At that moment the snoring stopped abruptly and my friend’s nose bumped into a big black nose attached to a shaggy grizzly head that had just swiveled around to peer at the south side of the stump.

My friend was evidently so enraptured by the experience that he sprang to his feet and floated the whole way home in a cloud of delirious delight. I believe his exact words were, “I don’t think my feet touched the ground until I found myself at home, upstairs, underneath my bed, shaking like a leaf.” That description nearly brought tears to my eyes. I only hope that every Alaskan has a chance to experience one of those unforgettable encounters that will leave them also trembling with exquisite happiness. If I’m lucky, maybe it will be me.
 

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