Bear Mauling

A man attending a BBQ at Eklutna Lake outside of Anchorage had a few too many drinks and rode off on a bicycle. He took some of the BBQ meat on a stick with him. Before long he encountered a bear and apparently thought it was a good idea to share his food. He threw some at the bear. The bear ate it. He threw some more. Then something ticked the bear off. The man was found torn up but alive. He was ticketed for feeding the bear that mauled him. 

Which reminds me of the time we had a rather close call with a grizzly. Food was involved but it wasn’t ours....

It was a fall day. We were hiking around Gunsight Mountain hoping to see some moose in rut. We walked a few miles over rolling terrain seeing nothing but birds. Quite a few birds, actually. Ravens, magpies, bald eagles. The ravens were teasing Sam, our blue eyed dog, attempting to lure him off the trail. I mentioned there must be a carcass somewhere with all the scavengers in the area. 

Another mile traveled and Bob stopped to watch an eagle. I was watching Sam just ahead of us. He was air scenting something in the willows next to the trail when a dark looming figure rose up from the brush. It took a moment to recognize that it was a bear. A huge one with little eyes in a big teddy bear face standing on its hind legs. Sam was at its feet looking straight up. A healthy seventy pound dog, he appeared tiny and certainly helpless next to the big bruin.

The dog yelped in surprise and I calmly said “Wow. Look at that.” I was still processing the situation and felt awe, not panic or fear, oddly enough. 

Bob looked then and immediately yelled “Bear! Run!” Well, unless you are sure you can outrun a grizzly that is not the best thing to do. He doesn’t know why that was his first inclination; he knows it is utterly the wrong thing to do. But no one can really be certain how they will react until actually faced with a situation.

I grabbed his arm before he took off. We backed slowly away. Sam, an experienced wilderness dog, peeled off without a commotion. The bear was content to see us leave and, thank goodness, returned to the brush. The day could have ended in a bloody mess.

We worked our way around to a rock outcropping to watch the bear. It was scratching the ground, mosses, willows and all into a pile then flopping down on top. Scratch, scratch, flop. Over and over. It was a big pile of brush and we saw the antlers of a bull moose sticking out at the bottom of it. 

We had just interrupted a grizzly caching a moose! A seriously dangerous situation. Did the bear just kill the moose in a great battle or did it finish one injured by a hunter? We would never know. 

We watched for half an hour before the bear got up. It looked around to make sure nothing would disturb the cache and took off towards the river. I don’t know how much ground a bear covers in one stride but it is a lot. Three long strides and it was out of sight. 

In a few days Bob returned to find the stinky moose under the brush, bones crushed. It was smashed flat as a pancake by the bear’s great weight.