My Bear Encounter

Wandering -- stupidly -- by myself up a little-used and quite worn-down path, I came across a mule deer, lying in the trees, chewing on some grass. Inch-by-inch I crept closer, trying to get a good photograph. The deer stared at me warily, occasionally stopping the incessant mastication of grass as I would take a step closer, then resume chewing when I again appeared frozen in time. I had snapped a few decent photos and ever pushing my limits took one step closer. With a start, the deer leaped up and quickly whipped it's head around (which incidently scared the crap out of me).

I stared at the deer for awhile, and sensing its fear and my increasing uneasiness with the now quite alert deer close at hand, I slowly backed away. The sun was already setting and I still had quite a way to drive to get to my next camp site, so I figured missing out on the rest of the trail was no big exchange for a few extra minutes of light, not to mention not getting mauled by the rack on that deer.

My small disappointment soon disappeared when I headed back down the trail and saw a couple of things I missed on the way up: "Huh, animal carcass." ==click== "Hey sinkhole." == click == "Hey, bear... wha? Oh crap, bear!" Had I not just read not to get too close to carcasses because bear are very territorial and will protect a carcass? And here I was just moments before getting up close and person with one for what? A photo of rotting animal flesh? Why? Why should I feel compelled to take a photo of a rotting animal carcass? And yet I did. At least I now knew the mystery of the startled deer. But now I was alone on a trail with a bear in tow. Dummy.

In this photo I am cowardly hiding behind a pine tree praying I am downwind and the bear has not seen me or heard my heart thumping loudly through my chest.

Fortunately, the bear either did not see or hear nor smell the fear pheromones that had to be wafting off my body or was just completely uninterested.

Eventually I made my back to other civilized life (in tact) and watched the bear graze from a relatively safe distance in the company of others. Like my high school cross country coach used to say, "You don't have to run faster than the bear, you just have to run faster than the guy behind you."

Lesson learned. Safety in numbers. And speed.