First of all this was entirely my fault. Entirely. I left half a package of dog treats in the glove compartment of my old Subaru.

I live in a village at the base of the mountains that surround the San Joaquin Valley, California’s Central Valley where agriculture and oil production compete for space on its fertile fields.

In the middle of the night my dog Lily started barking hysterically. I know her raccoon bark, somebody walking on the road bark–and I should have recognized her bear bark. But I was so sleepy that I just lay in bed and yelled at her to shut up.

She was trying to alert me that Mama bear and this year’s cub were visiting.  I’m usually very careful about leaving any kind of food outside as a wildlife attraction, but this time I forgot. Mama and her cub are hungry at this time of the year. Just as we stop in at a fast food joint when there’s nothing appealing to eat at home, Mama stops in for a meal where it’s close and easy. The smell of dog treats must have been irresistible.

Just to let you know what kind of strength a hungry bear has, I am facing a repair bill of some thousands of dollars.  She tore out the back right side window, which I may have left open a crack. Okay, I admit it. I probably left the window open a crack. The frame of the back right door is bent outward. She, and maybe even the cub, got inside the car, chewed off half the spongy filling of the dashboard, clawed open the glove compartment and flung it on the floor.

The next night she returned. My bedroom faces out on the front upper deck, and once again Lily began her hysterical bear bark.  This time I got up and looked. Baby bear stood on its hind legs looking in the window at me holding the curtains aside.  I could see Mama three feet away padding around on the deck, investigating the front door. When I realized there was a quarter inch of glass between me and the cub, I closed the curtains quickly.  

Finding nothing to eat, Mama was on her way. She doesn’t waste her time making social calls.  

I know only too well that a Fed Bear is a Dead Bear, because the year after a major wildfire swept through, destroying all the bear forage in the mountains, starving bears came down into our community.

One house was visited again and again because the owner left a well-stocked fridge outside. You’d think you’d learn after the first time.  Instead of doing something about the fridge, the owners reported a nuisance bear which brought out the Fish and Game officials. Their personal feelings aside, they operated strictly by protocol and hauled in a bear trap, a really ugly looking thing. The bear was removed, even though she had a cub who was still nursing.  Regulations, folks.

DFG’s black bear policy states that bears that are repeated nuisances are not candidates for relocation due to their habituation to people. Numerous studies have proven that relocated habituated bears, regardless of the distance moved, return to the area of capture.

In Kern County if a trap for a bear is set, the bear caught in that trap is killed. In this case, many of the folks here concluded the wrong bear was killed, states Vicky Bingaman, our Bear Aware leader and wildlife rehabilitation specialist. 

There’s no happy ending to this story. I feel really badly for my carelessness threatening the life of another bear.