Another hiatus, more temporary this time, from my blog, while my content switched over to a new domain name. Thanks to everyone who made that happen.
It's a hot and sunny day in Fairbanks, and I've hardly been outside to enjoy the weather; exhausted from spending a week out in the weather until yesterday evening. Exhausted but content. Field work is hard physically but mentally rejuvenating.
This trip took me across the Tanana River to identify wetlands on the south side, where I had not been before. The area is not accessible via road; we commuted out in the morning and back in the evenings in an R-44 helicopter, with a few hops during the day. In between hops, there was plenty of bush-whacking through black spruce scrub forests and slogging through boggy wetlands, swatting away mosquitoes and flies, and searching for the next LZ (landing zone). A few tight LZs required my field partner and I to "step" out of the helicopter from eight feet in the air and load from a hover.
Unlike the last time I went out into the field, all too long ago last September!, the vegetation was nearing its prime. Flowers were blooming and many of the sedges had spikes. It was a week-long treasure hunt to see what new species we would identify at each site. Amongst our findings were fragile fern, shy maiden, green-flowered wintergreen, rattlesnake orchid, and the rare moonwort and Calypso orchid. Miles back from the mighty Tanana, we also found thick sediment deposits in some of our sites, deposited during the major flood of July 2008. The ground was still sopping wet, even in deciduous tree uplands; the silty sediment is slow to drain, and perhaps the ground froze last fall before the flat terrain could dry out. Heavier-than-usual winter snows piled on top of the saturated but frozen ground, melting suddenly in May's hot weather. These sites, flooded one year ago, have yet to dry out. Water marks can be found three feet high on the trunks of large trees, vegetative debris caught in the forks of high branches.
Wildlife were out in full force, although we saw mostly signs of animals passing rather than animals themselves. Moose scat, hare scat, grouse droppings, bear scat and tracks, wolf scat. An upset mama grouse feigning injury, trying to distract us from her brood. Gray jays and juncos, a northern harrier, bald eagles, a common loon, a myriad of diving ducks, red-tailed hawks, ravens. Moose- cows with calves and bulls growing antlers- seen from the air. And a black bear. Not from the air.
My field partner, Jeff, and I left our first site of the morning, in an open meadow, and entered a spruce forest. Mid conversation, I heard a twig snap. A very small twig; and, thinking it was a squirrel, I casually looked up and to my right. There, fifteen feet from me with no vegetation in between us, stood a black bear. A small (probably 250 to 300-lb), dark bear with a tawny face. The bear had its head low and was staring me down. "Bear," I said loudly, warning my partner. "Seriously?" he asked, as I began to back up steadily, hands in the air, saying, "Hey, bear. Hey, bear," over and over. Jeff, realising I was serious, began to scan far into the forest for the bear, following me backward with his hands in the air, joining me in my mantra. "Hey, bear. Hey, bear." We stayed side by side as we backed up, trying to appear larger than we were. The bear charged at us several times, leaping forward at us. Silently. No teeth clacking, no jaw popping, no grunts or growls or roars. No rearing up on its hind legs to intimidate us. Jeff and I both realised this bear meant business- it wanted us gone. And we wanted to be gone just as badly. As we backed up, Jeff got caught up more than once on thickets of willow in the understory, and I had visions of this bear leaping onto him as he fell backward. I called out more than once, "Jeff! This way! You have willow behind you!"
We were both certain that an attack was imminent, so we stuck close together to better our chances of fighting back. I had our soil shovel in my hand and was sure I would have to use it. We had left our bear spray back at our lodge because the safety clips had fallen off, and we didn't want to endanger ourselves and our pilot with unsecured bear spray in the helicopter. This was our first day without the spray, and we both realised the implications of having left it behind. One less line of defense. We don't carry fire arms in the field because of corporate policy.
We paused behind a thick growth of willow after about three minutes of the pursuit, not having seen the bear in several seconds. The bear had been backing up to charge repeatedly, so we were not sure that the pursuit was over. After a short period of time, we realised it was not, seeing the light brown of the bear's face coming forward through the trees. We continued to put distance between ourselves and the bear, passing our first LZ around the edge to avoid the opening, finally arriving at the edge of thick, stunted spruce. Positioned behind thick trees but with good line of sight, we had found a safe place to stand our ground while we called our pilot. It had been a full five minutes of pursuit by the bear.
I had been radioing our pilot repeatedly, but our air band radios don't work without line of sight. Fortunately, our cell phones were receiving intermittent signals; we were able to send the pilot a text message: "Need pick up now." Followed by a second message, "Aggressive bear, need pick up same LZ." Within twenty minutes, our pilot called out on the radio; and we were soon in the air, moving to a new site miles from the bear.
Neither Jeff nor I had ever experienced a bear encounter like this one. Most bears will ignore people or run away; but this bear persistently followed us, essentially stalking us. Black bears can be predatory; but Jeff and I think that this was not likely the case here. This was a young bear, probably just kicked out by mama, confused and scared and defending its ground after having found some not occupied by other, higher-ranking bears. Maybe the bear was on a kill. Perhaps that was why it didn't see, hear, or smell us before we were almost on top of it.
It ended well for us and for the bear. As the trip continued, I ate my first blueberry of the season, tart but delicious; enjoyed a lunch-time delivery of curly fries by helicopter while sitting in a sea of tussocks; took a swim in Blair Lake and enjoyed its relatively warm water and sandy bottom, serenaded by a loon; and saw my first lynx, from a low hover in the helicopter.
