Global Courant 2023-04-28 15:30:57
Like every spring, the bears of the eastern Sierra Nevada are now clawing their way out of dens after their five-month hibernation, tearing through layers of ice and snow with little air to breathe and no water to drink.
They can’t afford to stop because they haven’t eaten since late October, when they entered their dens for the unforgiving Sierra winter, usually by burrowing into north-facing slopes. Some had cubs in tow; others give birth in mid-hibernation.
This year, however, they are facing an unprecedented accumulation of snow. This has been a monstrous winter for my hometown, Mammoth Lakes. The snow globe vistas and epic skiing have delighted many. But the historic snowfall is about to take its toll on the eastern Sierra’s iconic black bears.
Not only did we get a lot more snow than usual, but the spring thaw is two months behind schedule. Three-story cabins are still buried under record levels of snowdrifts. And with walled roads, there’s nowhere for animals to be found other than the bustling city streets.
Most disturbing is the famine they face. The soft, translucent shoots of weeds and grasses that are their post-winter caviar are nowhere to be found. The food lies dormant under layers of snow.
What should a young mother do with two cubs? Most parents would do anything to feed their children, and so would they.
And what about the rest of the region’s wildlife – the bobcats, the mountain lions, and that lone coyote who spends long days outside the local Carl’s Jr. sat? With no voles or mice to eat, he has resorted to begging for chips.
During my long term as Mammoth Lakes conservationist, food was central to my efforts to help the people and animals of the city coexist. Mammoth has long prided itself on an enlightened approach to wildlife and accepting it as part of our everyday lives. For three decades, part of my job was to keep the bears away from danger by keeping them out of hotel lobbies, school yards, cabins, and cars. Most of the time we succeeded.
Over time, I became known as the town’s “Bear Whisperer”. I even crawled into their burrows to study them, placing microphones and cameras in them while they slept. But the people of the city deserve as much credit as I do for the progress we’ve made.
When I started the job, restaurants dumped leftovers in unlocked dumpsters every night, and bears and other animals were fed freely, leading to overcrowding and awkward encounters with humans. Over time, we were able to seal the dumpsters and force the animals to feed on seeds, insects, larvae, grasses and whatever other natural foods keep them healthy and fit.
Our mantra, which can still be seen on bumper stickers around the state, became, “Don’t feed our bears.”
But with no natural food available, what should the bears and other animals eat? Should the state intervene and provide food? Should homeowners?
I recently confronted that question on my own doorstep, where a hungry raccoon showed up. The bottom feeders of the forest’s masked bandits are notoriously adept at finding everything from grubs under your sod to chickens in your tent. But this one was reduced to an example of the plight of our starving wildlife, going door to door for a can of cat food or some other handout.
While it would feel humane to oblige, I would strongly advise against such a gift even now, and state officials avoid such interventions as a matter of policy. Feeding wildlife can only encourage animals to return to human sources over and over again in the long run, even after natural food becomes available. (It is also illegal.)
Not that I’m happy with what we’re about to see. The coming compressed summer will be very hard on the animals and the next five weeks will be crucial.
An influx of bears is inevitable in cities and suburbs on the edge of the wilderness, who will see them as their honeypots, increasing the kind of encounters with humans that benefit neither species. More danger awaits wildlife munching on spring’s first shoots in one of the few places they can find them – along roadsides next to speeding cars.
Can the bears fatten up enough in October to survive the next winter? This could be a time when only the smartest bears survive, and in the long run, the species could become stronger as a result. The bears have to adapt. Shall we?
It’s been a great year for us in crucial ways. All this water is a blessing. But it comes at a high price for the bears.
Steve Searles served as Mammoth Lakes conservationist from 1996 to 2020. A book about his life with nature, “What the Bears Know,” is expected to be released in October.
