Another goshawk survey highlight was coming face-to face with a big cinnamon mama bear with 2 black cubs. I entered neanderthal mode, adrenaline rushing, immediately grabbing a big jagged rock in case it came to that. Luckily she stopped short and I retreated to a safe distance.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Black bear cub, Valles Caldera
Another goshawk survey highlight was coming face-to face with a big cinnamon mama bear with 2 black cubs. I entered neanderthal mode, adrenaline rushing, immediately grabbing a big jagged rock in case it came to that. Luckily she stopped short and I retreated to a safe distance.
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Reminds me of the first night of a planned 2-week backpack in Kings Canyon, southern Sierras. We dutifully hung one of the packs (canvas in those days) really high on a stout branch. Up came mama and baby bear, paying no attention to our presence (we kept a respectful distance). Up the tree went baby, watched carefully by mom at the base of the tree. Out onto the branch. Pulled the hanging pack up by the rope, ripped out the bottom and watched with pleasure as all our food came tumbling out. Then they did what bears do, and we watched with dismay. Walked out the next day. No memory of what we did with the extra weeks. That was in 1970-something, long before bear box days.
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