Discretion

It's possible, with experience, to "read" a bear the way you might read a dog. I am not afraid of dogs, even most overtly aggressive dogs. But once in a blue moon, I might encounter one whose actions creep me out.

Same with bears.

Behavior displayed by this cinnamon-phase black bear encountered recently in the Yukon gave me the willies. I spotted it one morning as I drove a particularly remote stretch of the Alaska Highway. The bear fed in brush off the righthand side of the road and, after slowing down, I realized a picture wouldn't be possible from the truck cab. So, I stopped, grabbed my camera, and got out.

The bear ignored me at first, and I was able to get a couple of shots. Then, as if it suddenly realized I was present, the bear stopped and stared at me. This is not unusual behavior considering that, without warning, I had suddenly inserted myself into the bear's world. In many -- probably most -- situations like this, the bear will stare, then turn and either go back about its business or simply run away. This bear did neither.

Instead, the bear fixated on me in a way that spooked me. In its eyes, I may have captured here a vague trace of menace. Really, though, the entire aggregate of the bear's expressions and stance would be needed to truly understand what got my heart pounding. Not liking the behavior I saw from a bear close enough to reach me in less than two bounds, I determined the wise thing to do was step immediately back into the truck and find something else to photograph. I do not regret the decision.

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