well andcatch somebreaks,nohumanswill everbe thisclose
toGreen-7again.
THISWAS A ROUGH SUMMER
in some parts of North
America forhuman-bearconflict.Mostnotably,agrizzlybear
atYellowstoneNational Park killed a 63-year-old visitor in
earlyAugust,andonmy secondnight atYosemite, later that
month,amanwho livesabout20milesfromtheparkfoughtoff
ablackbearthatattackedhimafterhestartledherwhileshewas
eatinggarbage off his porch.The bear “problem”—measured
inpropertydamage,mostly—was
soacutethisyearatSequoia
NationalPark,about130milessouthofYosemite,thatLeahy
was calleddown in July toassist thepark staff there.
Allof thatmakes itevenmoreremarkable thatbearprob-
lems insideYosemite hit an astonishing low in2015.As of
the beginning ofOctober,bears had caused just $4,637 in
propertydamage in75 incidents—adecrease of 95percent
in the number of incidents andmore than 99 percent in
the cost of damages since 1998.No human has sustained
an injury from a bear atYosemite since 2011, a historically
unrivaled streak.
Thedaybeforewe trapGreen-7,Leahyprovides a crash
course inthe irresponsiblehistoryofhuman-bear interaction
atYosemiteandotherparks.Intheearly20thcentury,hetells
me,visitorstotheparkscouldsitonbleachersaroundmassive
pitsandwatchbears feedonhumangarbage.That ended in
theearly1940sbecauseof—surprise—human injuries from
bear encounters,but bears continued tohave easy access to
garbagedumpsall theway intothe1970s.In1971,arecord48
bearswerekilledatYosemite—adistressinglyhighpercent-
age of the 350 to 500 that’s generally seen as the healthy
population for the park—because of conflicts with people
andpersistent propertydamage.
The property damage problem only grewworse after
thepark installed early, ineffectiveprototypes of bear-proof
dumpsters to replace open ones in the 1980s; damage
exceeded$100,000 ineveryyearduring the1990s—in1998,
itpeakedat$659,569,from1,584 incidents—and itbeganto
giveYosemiteareputationasadangerousplacetovisit.Thus,
during the 1990s, theYosemiteConservancy, a nonprofit
group thatprovidesgrants forparkprojects,beganspending
whatwouldamounttomorethan$4milliononbuildingand
installingroughly2,000steelbear lockers—whichpeoplecan
easilyopenbutbearscan’t—forcamperstostoretheirfood in.
“We all were very concerned about somebody getting
hurt,”says YosemiteConservancy president FrankDean,
whowasaparkranger in the1990s.“Andwewereconcerned
about the bears, too, of course.This is themandate of the
Parks Service: tomanage thewildlife in thewild.”
Wildlife biologists have long known how to curb the
problem: prevent black bears from obtaininghuman food.
“Once they get a taste, the drive to get into food is beyond
anythingwe can really comprehend,”Leahy says. “It can
escalateandgetworseandworseuntil thebears startbreak-
ing intohouses and into cars or hurt people.”(Remarkably,
in recordedhistory,noblackbearhas everkilledaperson in
California.Grizzlies,amore ferocious species,areno longer
present inCalifornia,despiteappearingon the state flag.)
The increasing problem also drew the attention of the
United States Congress, which in 1999 began provid-
ing $500,000 a year for bear management at Yosemite,
which draws 4million visitors a year.With that money,
which continues to flow today, the park addedmore bear-
management staff and formed the Yosemite National
Park Bear Council.At today’s Yosemite, it is impossible
to be unaware that feeding bears is both forbidden and a
terrible idea. An electronic billboard that reads “SAVE
YOSEMITEBEARS”greetsmotorists,who receivepam-
phlets after paying to enter.Messaging is everywhere, from
billboardsoutsidecampgrounds to trashreceptacles to forms
signedby campers acknowledging that they’re awareof the
bearrules.Papercupsatconcessionsshopssportacomicstrip
showing an oblivious family taking a group photowhile a
bear is feastingon their improperly stored food.
Theresultshavebeen impressive.Of thebears that forage
forhuman-derived food inYosemite,onlyabout13percent
nowhave diets that containhuman food—down from 35
percent between 1971 and 1998, according to a study of
bone andhair samples publishedbywildlife ecologist Jack
Hopkinsof theUniversityofCaliforniaatSanDiego.“That
indicates a successful,proactivehuman-bearmanagement
program,”Hopkins says.“There’s noquestion that they’ve
done reallywell implementingmanagement efforts since
1999,when thegovernmentbegan funding theirprogram.”
WHEN IVISIT,LEAHYANDHISTEAM
ofaround15 rangers
areonlyacoupleofweekspasthavinghad toeuthanize their
secondbear in2015.ThatwasBlue-54,a 275-poundmale
that first appeared in a developed area of the park in2010.
WildlifeManagement trapped him, tagged him, chased
himaway,anddidn’t seehimagain for several years.Hewas
caught againand fittedwithaGPScollar,whichmadehim
oneof roughly10bears thatwereon the radar—as in,every
fourhours their coordinates are transmittedandplottedon
amap thatshows thezigzagof theirmovements.Less thana
year later,thebearbroke intocars inoneof thecampgrounds,
signalingan increasingboldness.Again,Leahy’s teamscared
him off—until this past spring,whenhe returned to break
intomore cars searching for food.Twice inMay, the bear
wasrelocatedmorethan30miles into
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