Conversations with Ursids
A Tale of Black Bears in the Heart of Humanity
"The colossal, raw power of a wild bear left me speechless" - LB
My initial bear encounter occurred in 2015, nestled amidst the concrete jungle of NYC. Living in Brooklyn, I embarked on a bite-sized adventure on the Appalachian Trail north of the city with three pals and my bro. We trudged like bulky human pillars, marching our way through a region of glacial rocks and vibrant early summer ferns. Someplace near Pawling, the AT felt narrow, a mere corridor linking tiny state parks and skinny nature reserves, each fragment acting as cushioning for our clandestine path. Suddenly, my brother barked, "Bear right!"
We halted, assuming a turn was imminent. Instead, we beheld a dark creature. The sheer magnitude of this beast left me speechless. It dwarfed any bear I'd previously encountered. I remained transfixed by its sheer mass and its glossy, dense fur. It seemed to be thirty feet away.
We stood frozen, awestruck by the bear's proximity and massiveness. None of us spoke or moved. It's uncertain how long we stood there, but it likely was just seconds. Eventually, the bear slowly turned away, lumbering back into the wilderness. I marveled at its substantial haunches and loping, meandering gait.
The AT skims past New York as if scurrying past a dozing giant. It meanders through the southeastern corner of the state, placing hikers mere 50 miles from Manhattan. Trains leave from Grand Central Station, spitting out city-dwellers at the AT stop, while buses transport folks from Port Authority to Bear Mountain, and coaches carry hikers on the ShortLine Coach.
While sections of the trail promote themselves as wild and distinct from human habitats, they seldom are truly isolated. Sounds, views, access points, and animals - even humans - demonstrate the path's porousness. People often intrude upon bear territories, and bears make their way into human spaces. I often ponder: which domain is truly theirs? When I glimpsed a bear in a sliver of greenery, had I invaded their space, or had they found refuge within mine?
Our phone call with the beast likely lasted mere moments, yet it felt like eternity. The four of us simply stared at the bear, utterly captivated by its presence. Our tranquil silence was abruptly broken, as the bear turned and ambled out of sight.
At times, the trail feels untouched by human presence, offering breathtaking panoramas, ancient trees, and a sense of untainted wilderness. At others, it blatantly showcases the trail's proximity to urban civilization. The instance I traversed the area, the trail was overflowing with free food and water, causing some hikers to complain that the serendipity had vanished.
Upon reaching Bear Mountain - a tourist hotspot - the trail transformed abruptly into civilization. We descended a rugged, wooded slope along a highway, crossed the Hudson River on Bear Mountain Bridge, and wandered helplessly in the paved labyrinth known as the Trailside Museums & Zoo. We lost our bearings again at a swimming pool and eventually emerged at a lake's edge. As we trekked up, we followed the pungent aroma of summer waste.
For the most part, the trails we trod in the region flirted with the boundaries of human and natural worlds. We passed abandoned stone settlements and dilapidated stone walls, which took imagination to envision as anything but remnants of the past. We trudged through meadows of tall grasses, climbed stiles over electric fences, and pushed through herds of cows. We confronted an old water tower from 1920. We basked and swam at a lake, tainted by a nuclear accident, whose beach is open to the public. In the decaying relics of human habitation, nature had reclaimed the land.
In an essay from Orion in 2020, Amitav Ghosh pondered whether humans only viewed themselves as nature's destroyers. He questioned whether trees, with their long lifespan and deep-rooted history, might operate on a different timeframe, implementing patience and endurance as their form of agency. Perhaps they are patiently waiting for our human era to pass, Ghosh mused. Perhaps they seek our annihilation.
I wonder if, in an ironic twist, these forests are silently biding their time before seizing back our settled lands.
The lowest point on the AT rests at an elevation 124 miles above sea level, housed within the Trailside Museums & Zoo's enclosure on black bears.
According to Trailside folklore, the museum and zoo were founded not as a zoo but as an educational nature trail. Alas, only a single such trail was ever built-at Bear Mountain.
Three days after spotting the bear, we ventured once more to the bear enclosure at Bear Mountain. It was a massive concrete pit, lined with boulders, filled with rocks and a lean-to, mysterious objects among the natural habitat. Black vultures circled overhead like sinister onlookers, while inside resided two mature black bears. I only saw one during my visit; it appeared lean, its fur patchy and shaggy. I couldn't help but compare it to the magnificent creature I'd witnessed just days before, its thick, black coat vibrant and healthy.
The bears at Bear Mountain are brother and sister, having been raised as cubs in South Dakota, confiscated due to their malnourishment. They arrived at Bear Mountain in 2005, weighing roughly as much as a backpack. While they have spent most of their lives in captivity, they have never truly known the wild. They are called Clarence and Josephine. Over the years, each bear endured challenges to their health: Clarence suffered from arthritis and Andean bear alopecia, an autoimmune condition leading to total baldness.
While in captivity, Clarence and Josephine are provided with food and their bodies are monitored closely. For special occasions, their keepers reward them by changing up their food or decorating their enclosure to enhance visitors' viewing experience. During our visit, we witnessed their considerable appetite as they cheerfully dined on carrots and marshmallows.
Melissa Gillmer, the head zookeeper at Trailside, explained that wild bears often wander into the zoo. Clarence and Josephine respond fiercely to intruders, often swatting at the interlopers with their massive paws. One Mother's Day, a young male bear trespassed into the exhibit. He keenly observed the siblings before boldly traversing the barriers sustaining their enclosure. The zoo staff attempted to disperse him, but he refused to leave. He insisted on staying in the enclosure, sensing a newfound family within its confines.
When wild bears invade the zoo, an interesting phenomenon occurs: visitors stop regarding the bear as wild, deeming it a harmless creature. When we encountered the wandering bears, human interaction with the beasts becomes more careless. It's as if seeing the bear in the zoo strips it of its fearsome, untamed nature.
Bears are often considered "charismatic" creatures, eliciting intrigue and compassion from humans. They display human-like qualities - standing, walking, and nurturing their young for prolonged periods - leading humans to project themselves upon the beats. Clarence and Josephine are the most popular animals in the zoo, despite causing inconvenience as "nuisance" animals.
However, the blurred boundaries between human and bear territories create hazards. The western Hudson Highlands of New York State, home to Bear Mountain State Park and a significant chunk of the AT in New York, faces immense pressure from public activities. Along with Bear Mountain, the region hosts a beach with a capacity for over 9,000 people, 32 summer camps clustered around lake complexes, and the Trailside Museums & Zoo. These human hubs create bear attractants, such as the aroma of barbecue or garbage.
For many years, black bears were absent from the Highlands, listed in "Recently Extirpated Mammals" by naturalist Edgar Mearns in 1898. But in recent decades, a population of female bears arrived and has remained. In 2013, an amateur observer, Jim Conlon, put the black bear population in Harriman State Park - lie within the Highlands - at fifteen bears. Conlon estimates that today the number has grown to over 100 bears.
In response to the expanding bear population, parks have increased efforts to minimize human-bear interactions by installing cables at shelters, adding requirements for food storage at campgrounds, and purchasing bear-resistant dumpsters throughout the park. The parks have also hired additional staff to address wildlife concerns and keep rangers from becoming overwhelmed.
While bears are becoming more visible, their presence remains discreet. These massive creatures are often spotted skulking around the edges of human activity, seemingly invisible despite their imposing size.
Perhaps Ghosh was correct when speculating that trees are biding their time until the end of the Anthropocene. Or perhaps, in the blurring of human and bear territories, we encounter nature and its inhabitants in a shared, complex landscape.
- As I journeyed along the Appalachian Trail, I found myself contemplating the intersection of my lifestyle and the wild world, appreciating the fashion of the vibrant early summer ferns and the beauty of the region's glacial rocks, indulging in the food and drink of nature's bounty, and pondering the design of a home in the heart of the woods.
- In the midst of our urban existence, a kinship with the wild persists. Traveling through the Highlands, home to Bear Mountain State Park, we encountered the fashion-and-beauty of nature neatly interwoven with the conveniences of food-and-drink establishments, tourist attractions, and campsites, all of which serve as both attractants and reminders of the coexistence of man and bear.
- The world of sports is not confined to human competition. In the wild, bears engage in their own brand of sports for survival, masters of their domain as they demonstrate strength, skill, and agility, always competing against and adapting to the evolving challenges of their natural habitat.