“Thank God for Yosemite Bears!” John Muir

 

 

 

 

 Although I was dedicated to get as close as I could to the heart and soul of legendary John Muir, I was naively unaware that, in order to do this, I would have to experience some ordeals that he would have identified with. He properly warned that books (including his own) were useless in describing the intense adrenaline rush following surviving an avalanche ride, spending a snow-stormy night (without a tent or blanket) on Mt. Shasta, or a face-to-face confrontation with an American Black Bear (Ursus americanus).

 

It was Muir’s self-imposed vocation to get as close to the heart of Mother Nature as he could, which meant studying all of her plants and animals. In his first summer at Yosemite he was eager to make the acquaintance of what he thought was a “Cinamon Bear.”

Excerpt: The Wilderness World of John Muir. Edwin Way Teal.

“I watched his gestures and tried to make the most of my opportunity to learn what I could about him, fearing that he would catch sight of me and run away. For I had been told that this sort of bear always ran away from his bad brother man, never showing fight  unless wounded or in defense of young. He made a telling picture in the sunny forest garden. How well he played his part, harmonizing in bulk and color and shaggy hair with the trunks of trees and lush vegetation, as natural a feature as any other in the landscape.

After examining at leisure, noting the sharp muzzle thrust inquiringly forward, the long shaggy hair on his broad chest, the stiff erect ears nearly buried in hair, and the heavy way he moved his head, I thought I should like to see his gait in running, so I made a sudden rush at him, shouting and swinging my hat to frighten him, expecting him to make haste to get away. But to my dismay he did not run or show any sign of running. On the contrary, he stood his ground ready to defend himself, lowered his head, thrust it forward, and looked sharply and fiercely at me. Then I suddenly began to fear that that upon me would fall the work of running; but I was afraid to run, and therefore, like the bear, held my ground. We stood staring at each other in solemn silence within a dozen yards or thereabouts, while I fervently hoped that the power of the human eye over wild beasts would prove as great as it is said to be. How long our awfully strenuous interview lasted, I do not know; but at length in slow fullness of time…and with magnificent deliberation turned and walked leisurely up the meadow, stopping frequently to look back over his shoulder to see whether I was pursuing him, then moving on again, evidently neither fearing me much nor trusting me.”

When the Biodesign Class of ’92 arrived at Yosemite Valley, the first order of business was to set up our base camp and prepare for the next day’s backpack trip to the top of Half Dome. The campsite was a flurry of activity of erecting tents, preparing the cooking area and campers moving into their tent-dwellings. The students had been warned to put all food items in the steel, bear-proof boxes that Yosemite Park provided. I was busy with a plethora of details, one of which was not looking out for student backpack food storage.  Suddenly someone yelled, “Anna, a bear has your food bag!” and there was a huge commotion. I spotted a medium-sized female Black Bear with two cubs. She, indeed, had Anna’s bag in her mouth and was lumbering down the trail towards the nearby meadow. Thinking only of a student without several days of trail food, I sprinted toward the unwanted raider. Exactly like John Muir, I began yelling loudly and waving my arms and hat. When I exceeded her comfort zone, she wheeled on her haunches, dropped the food bag, lowered her head, made a terrifying squealing noise and charged me. Unlike Muir, however, I did an abrupt U-turn and ran back toward camp. However, a quick glance over my shoulder showed that she had reversed and was about to retrieve the food bag. Not to be denied, I reversed and charged with more yelling and flailing arms. Once again, she reversed and renewed her charge with an increased sense of urgency. Once again, I reversed and beat a speedy retreat. By now, many students were watching and were probably not sure whether to laugh or feel alarmed over the spectacle. Another glance over my shoulder showed her returning to the food bag. Like the bear, I must have felt an increased sense of urgency and roared and flailed more aggressively. She glanced over her shoulder and saw what she must have thought was a madman, paused briefly at the food bag, and ambled off into the meadow. Part of Anna’s food bag had a slimy coating of bear saliva on it, but otherwise the food was not damaged.

When I returned to camp, the students were having difficulty processing what they had seen. Some must have thought I foolishly risked being injured and that we could have shared to help Anna out. Like Muir, I had read that Black Bear attacks on humans are rare, especially if they are allowed a pathway for retreat. Even so, I enjoyed an ambivalent blend of terror and humor over the episode.