My First Bear Cub Experience

© Everet D. Regal 4/24/17

After arriving Sunday evening in pouring rain, and spending my first night setting up camp in the same, I was up and out long before first light, full of anticipation to hit the trails and track down the subject of my trip. Black bears, with newborn cubs! The Great Smoky Mountains National Park, offers the highest black bear population per square mile, in the U.S.. If you’re looking for bear, this is a promising choice.

Despite the high population, mountains are vast, forests are endless and the excitement of locating that first bear, is quickly replaced with a reality check. Standing between me and my desire, are hundreds of square miles of trees, thick underbrush, wetlands and elevation changes, that require a great deal of strenuous effort to navigate. With nothing more than the limited power of my 60 year old legs, getting from point A to point B is slow. Plus the reality is, locating a wild animal in the forest involves very little linear movement. It’s a 360 degree space, where everything quickly looks the same and any intended directional progress, is done in generalities, not specifics. For those of you who read the comics growing up, it’s the path often depicted in The Family Circus. Moving “as the crow flies,” is rarely an option.

At sunrise, armed with previous knowledge of the area and a self-concocted strategy, I gathered my gear from the Jeep, stuffed a protein bar in my pocket, slung my tripod with super-telephoto over my shoulder and took my first step into the wet brush. Hiking through the woods, laden with heavy, electronic gear, has become normal activity for me. Leaving roads, people and conformity behind, is when I feel most at ease. After all, we are an organic being, not a product of the steel and asphalt that “civilization” has encased itself in. Far more effective than anything you might swallow with a glass of water, nature provides its own stress medication. The mind begins to cleanse itself of toxic thoughts, by absorbing the sights, smells, and sounds of nature. Your feet begin to decipher the textures of the forest floor, while your eyes feed your brain with patterns of light and dark that have no beginning and seemingly, no end. It’s a good place. A quiet place. A personal place.

By now, afternoon was pushing toward evening. My attempt to become one with nature, has been a success, depending on which part of nature you’re referring too. The trees, the sky and the earth, had welcomed me with open arms. A few squirrels, turkey and deer, had also allowed me in, but the subject of my desire, has yet to reveal itself. My Fitbit was reading close to 8 miles of walking, but my right shoulder was insisting that it was far more, as it always does. You see, that’s where I rest my tripod with the 12 lb. weight hanging off the end. It becomes more and more uncomfortable, as the hours pass by. Unless I’m actually taking photographs, my camera is really just a heavy weight, exaggerated by hanging off the end of three, long, hi-tech tubes, they call a tripod. It’s as close to a permanent extension of my body as anything could be, that didn’t originally come attached at birth. Like most tools of the trade, you tend to carry them around with you, far more than you actually get to use them.

Weary, and becoming increasingly hungry, I decided to locate myself atop a ridge that gave me a good view in both directions. I could see down the valley and up the rise on both sides, giving me about as expansive a view as one could hope for in the forest. There I stood for over one hour, watching, listening, hallucinating! As many a wildlife photographer or hunter knows, the longer you are in the woods, the more you begin to imagine every shape, dark spot or movement is the animal you have been looking for. It seems that if you can’t find your subject, you’re brain will automatically begin to create it for you, from thin air!

I often recognize the point when I’ve really begun to meld with the environment. It’s the increased sensitivity, or more accurately, the increased awareness of the sounds in the forest. I’m always listening and taking cues from sounds. Like the sentry calls from nosey crows or the chattering of a squirrel who warns of your approach, but there comes a point when you begin to hear so much more! You hear the breeze as it bends the supple grass, creating a soft, but audible sound from the interaction between the blades. You hear a single leaf as it’s lifted and dropped back to the forest floor. You hear your own breathing, and sometimes, even your heartbeat! Once your ears have become sensitive at that level, a single acorn dropping from an oak, is sometimes enough to make you jump! I had reached that elevated status and that’s when the forest begins to come alive in your mind. What you can’t see, you can hear and your mind will fill in the missing information, building the details of the scene, even if only subconsciously.

Suddenly, I hear a low, muffled, HUFF, HUFF, HUFF, in combination with a weighted and accelerating THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, over my left shoulder! Even though I’d never heard it before, I knew exactly what it was and could tell it was within feet, not yards. Adrenalin kicked in and my heartbeat joined the chorus of sounds in what seemed like an extended period of time, but in actuality, was only a second or two.

Calmly, but without hesitation, I swung my body around, instinctively pivoting around my tripod to rotate my camera to the proper position for capturing whatever I was about to witness. This was the moment of truth! I recall thinking, “Be careful of what you wish for, because it might just come true!”

Just moments earlier, the solitude and silence of the forest was as peaceful as a Sunday afternoon nap, but that quickly changed once I had turned around and my eyes made contact with a fast moving black bear! The bear was moving right to left and was equally as close to reaching me, as it was away from me, but it was not running at me. It was running past me. It passed by, easily within 10 feet and although I was panning it with my camera, there wasn’t a chance I could lock focus with all the clutter of the forest.

As my view of the oncoming bears face through my lens turned into nothing more than a huge, black ball of hair and hind legs, I also heard the wailing sounds of a tiny baby, far off in the distance where the bear was running towards. I’d never before heard a baby bear cub cry, but I knew without question, exactly what that sound was! Nothing I’d ever heard in the woods, sounded like that.

With my heartbeat in overdrive, I watched her move further away, and out of sight. My first thoughts were the disappointment from being unable to capture any photographs to record the urgency of what had just occurred. I then began heading in the direction she ran, hoping to locate her and the cubs. I cautiously worked my way down the steep bank, but within 100 yards or so, I was approaching very thick brush with 3-4 foot tall pines. There was no way I was going to pursue a mother bear with cubs, into an area with absolutely no line of vision. I stopped and stood for several minutes, hoping to hear something that might provide a clue, but the forest had once again gone silent and I was once again, seemingly alone.

I decided my best and safest strategy was to work my way back up the slope and reposition myself to where I had had originally been on watch. After all, I knew I had good line of sight and maybe, just maybe the bear would return to wherever she was coming from, when she first ran past me.

It wasn’t but a short time, when I again heard the HUFF, HUFF, HUFF, and from out of the dense, young pines came the bear running directly toward me! I again attempted to train my lens on her face and grab some shots. I had no idea what was about to happen, but I did know that you never, ever run from a bear! You maintain a calm, nonthreatening confidence, and more likely than not, the bear may attempt to intimidate you, but only posture and turn away. Bears do not want confrontation any more than we do. They simply want to protect themselves and their family in the event of danger. Besides, I was there to photograph black bears and I sure wasn’t going to let this moment be nothing more than a “buck fever” story when I returned home with no photos. These might possibly be my best, if not my last!

Within seconds, the bear reached me and once again, passed within feet of me, as it continued to my right. We had made direct eye contact, so I knew at that point she was well aware of my presence. She stopped about 40 feet beyond me, and turned around. Looking right at me, she and I both heard the cries of babies to my left. Without pause, the sounds of her huge, padded feet, thumped upon the soft forest floor, as she huffed her way past me for the third time, unquestionably heading back to where her cubs were calling.

I could see her stop, maybe 40 yards away, just short of the thick brush. As she did, I suddenly heard baby bear cubs crying loudly to my right! The reality of what was going on here was about to reveal itself. There were cubs both to the left and to the right of me! The frantic running of the mother bear began to make sense. I then spotted two cubs stumbling through the logs and branches and against my preference of comfort, they were no more than 20 feet away! At that point, I knew I was not in a good position. I had been on this spot for over an hour, without hearing or seeing a thing, yet in an instant…bears!

Even the inexperienced trail walker, knows the last place you want to find yourself is between a mother and her cubs. I felt uncomfortable, vulnerable and completely without options. My only defense was to remain in place, put my trust in the bear and see how this would play out. My small, but only comfort, was knowing that the mother bear had already given me three close encounters. Had she felt threatened by my presence, she would have probably made that perfectly clear to me, earlier.

As I watched the two cubs nearest me clumsily making their way along, the mother bear walked slowly toward me, sat down for a moment while pointing her huge snout upward to sniff the air and then looked me straight in the eye. That was my first decent photograph of her. She then resumed her movement toward me; but in a careless, sauntering manner. The huffing and urgency had been replaced by what appeared to be resolve of her purpose. She reached two aged pines with massive girth, only a few feet apart, and laid down between them. Within seconds, a pair of babies from the left and the pair of babies near me, joined her, climbing quickly across her enormous body of thick fur and began nursing!

Flushed with emotion, I was in awe of what had just transpired, as well as what was suddenly before me! Not only did the mother bear choose to lay down right in front of me, but she positioned her head away from me, behind the huge tree and all I could see what her backside sticking out from between the pines! Unfortunately, my line of sight was not good, as there were a great deal of small sticks, undergrowth and branches just in front of the bear. The babies were nursing and eventually would play, but my photos were greatly compromised by the debris.

At this point, I didn’t feel any the better for the situation I was in. Yes, she chose to be there, and yes, she knew I was there, and yes, she didn’t even position herself in a way that she could keep an eye on me, but still, there was potential of a bad outcome. I remained in place for about 30 minutes, taking photos through the sticks, but mostly enjoying this moment in time. Not only was I watching something incredible, but I was hearing it too! Who was I to deserve such an intimate, front row seat to a scene most people would never dream of?

I contemplated what might be my next move, realizing that I wasn’t in control of anything here. It was she, who was in control and my job was to remain a passive observer. Once it appeared that all the bears had now fallen asleep. I began backing away slowly and quietly, but the direction I needed to go, would have to pass right in front of her, so I moved diagonally until I could see her face. Her head was on her paws and she briefly opened her eyes to acknowledge my movement, then closed them again.

Confirming that she had accepted me, I then found a clear line of sight a few feet ahead, positioned and leveled my tripod and there I stood for the next three hours, photographing this beautiful mother bear and her four tiny cubs. Eventually, she stood up and stretched. That’s when I captured her with the baby between her legs. She then turned and casually walked away. The babies ran in front of her and scurried up and down tree after tree, as I watched them disappear over the hill. I had no intention of disrespecting her choice, by following her. She had already given me an immeasurable gift of intimacy.

With every wildlife encounter, there is a level of uncertainty. As I’ve experienced so many times, even the most conscience observer can walk right by an animal and not realize it’s there. Most wildlife understand that their best defense is not to be seen and they are masters at that skill. The fact that a mother and two cubs were inside a couple car lengths of me for over an hour, without me realizing it, is still hard for me to comprehend, but it is what it is. More importantly, learning and understanding the cues, and interpreting their behavior is what direct my every move.

Each animal is an individual, with individual dispositions. I never assume all are passive or all are aggressive. Be alert, follow their lead and enjoy any opportunity as it presents itself. For me, this is what I seek out. Acceptance and observation of uninfluenced, natural behavior. I will be eternally grateful for the opportunity to personally share this intimate moment with such a magnificent family of bears and I’m pleased to have a platform to share the sights and details with others.

Everet D. Regal