I recently read a story about a woman who was out hiking in bear country with a cake in her backpack. She saw a grizzly bear, turned tail and ran, scrambled up a tree, and waited for hours as the bear paced around the tree’s base. The bear eventually cleared out and the woman came down, bruised and bloody from her climb, but not devoured by a bear.
The story seemed to be one of success–she didn’t get eaten!–but I was left stunned.
As a US national park ranger, I endured countless training sessions conducted by wildlife biologists about how to interact with bears or–more helpfully–how to avoid interacting with them in the first place. Not once did the experts recommend piquing the interest of a bear by running from it with a pack full of smelly food and climbing a tree, as this woman had done.
In this essay, I’ll distill the advice of experts into a few tips to keep you feeling safe and confident in bear country. I’ll include a few bear encounter stories of my own to keep things interesting. And no, you won’t have to climb any trees.
1. NEVER run from a bear
As a disclaimer, I’d like to state that I am glad the tree-climbing woman evaded being eaten. But running and climbing trees are not viable solutions whenever you encounter a bear. Let me explain.
You will not be able to outrun a bear: grizzlies can sprint up to 35 miles per hour and black bears can run nearly as fast. You could try to climb a tree, if you happen to find one conveniently near, sized for holding a human, and climbable. But black bears are built to climb trees, so let’s hope the bear you’re climbing to avoid is a brown bear.
My guess is that the odds of you being chased by a bear while identifying what kind of bear it is and finding the perfect climbing tree are low enough that you should maybe consider some other options.
In the story above, the woman initiated the chase. She stepped into a clearing, saw a bear, and ran in the other direction. It is quite possible this bear would have ignored her or run away from her (the reactions I’ve had during bear encounters) had she not run from it first.
In her defense, running is a natural reaction to encountering a scary five-hundred pound carnivore with nails the length of your finger. I’m not judging her; sometimes it’s difficult for even the experts to remember not to run when faced with a sudden bear encounter.
I know a wildlife biologist who turned tail and bolted, screaming bloody murder, the first time she saw a black bear, even after years of telling others not to do any of those things.
Still, the experts are correct–do not run from a bear. You’ve heard that running from a predator awakens their predatory response–this is true. Running from a bear might also make it curious. What was that creature that rushed by? I will go find out.
Bears don’t have great vision; often they stand on their hind legs and huff at you, getting a good whiff while squinting their eyes. If you startle them and then run, chances are they didn’t figure out what you are; they might try to track you down, just to see if you are any kind of threat–or meal.
I am not suggesting that you stand around waiting for a bear to eat you, if it is so inclined. Here are actions you could take, should you stumble across a bear.
2. Make yourself look big
I once had a therapist who would say, “When we take something away we replace it with something else.” She was talking about reducing my unhealthy doom scrolling on social media, but this technique applies in all areas of life. Like bear encounters.
I’m taking away your running response, but here are a few actions you can take instead. I’ll illustrate with a bear story of my own.
One day as a seasonal park ranger I crouched low, snapping photographs of frogs. I was alone in the woods in bear country and making a significant error: being silent and still for a lengthy amount of time. It’s no wonder I suddenly heard a crashing through the undergrowth, something large barreling in my direction.
For a brief moment my panicked mind screamed “Wolf!” but as the beast spotted me and slammed to a halt amid the huckleberry bushes, so that we were positioned on opposite sides of a hiking trail, I saw that it was a black bear. I looked up into dark, startled eyes, so close I could see the wetness of the animal’s muzzle.
Small, probably a juvenile, a couple years old. We stared at one another for a fraction of a second, though to my adrenaline-soaked brain it felt considerably longer.
And this is where the years of training, of hearing and delivering safety messages, paid off. Without thinking, as though on autopilot, I leapt to my feet, raised my arms over my head, and screamed.
The bear’s eyes widened; it turned in terror and booked it away from me, disappearing as fast as it had arrived.
Clearly I was fortunate in this situation. The bear was small and didn’t have a cub or a food cache to protect. Mine was the ideal situation, perhaps. Still, a young bear that hasn’t learned to be afraid of humans can be a dangerous one. A small bear hungry and searching for new territory can also be dangerous. Whatever was going on with that bear, I protected myself by following the teachings gleaned from years of training.
Do this: stand tall and wave your arms around. Make yourself look too big to take down, too much work to eat. Make yourself look scary. Lift your pack or jacket over your head. Gather with your companions because you look even more threatening as a group. The experts say this, and I can tell you from experience that it works.
3. Move backwards slowly
Okay, so you’ve looked big and shown the bear some energetic dance moves. What if it doesn’t leave? What if you are the one who needs to evacuate the situation? You shouldn’t run (see the tip above plus everything ever said about bears ever), but you don’t have to stand still.
Next on our list of “Things to Do Instead of Running”: move backwards slowly. Walk, don’t run, toward safety.
Another bear story from my time as a park ranger. I was off duty and camping on the remote Alaskan coast. I was alone and carrying a hefty pack, my food in a large plastic bear canister to prevent smellage or easy access.
After several miles trudging along the rocky coast, I reached the spot where I intended to camp. I strode off the beach and into the woods, to find a place to set up my tent, and stepped almost immediately into a large pile of fresh, warm scat.
Berries. The bear–nothing else could have dropped a load this large–had clearly been enjoying many blue and red berries. Good for him or her.
I walked farther and discovered more scat. And more. Possibly this area had been designated by the local bear population as a toilet. I suspected more than one bear was doing its business here. This, then, was not the place I would be camping.
I veered out of the woods on what looked like a game trail (bear trail, my anxiety supplied) and stepped onto the beach. Where a mother black bear and three cubs greeted me.
Four bears. Four. A sow with cubs–the classic nightmare scenario. And she was huge–at least three hundred pounds. (Like most everything else, black bears are bigger in Alaska.) They were still about fifty feet down the beach, but they were headed my way.
Meandering, really. The mama was picking along the shore, inspecting rocks, seemingly oblivious to my presence. She was not oblivious, though; I knew for certain that she was aware of me standing there.
Black bears this close to the small coastal community nearby would know about humans; she would have picked up my scent as soon as we shared the same stretch of beach, maybe before. The fact that she didn’t run from me meant that she was inured to humans–not a great sign.
Her babies seemed similarly unimpressed. They rolled over one another in the waves, playing and tumbling like puppies. I was too terrified to appreciate how adorable they were.
Slowly–like I’ve instructed you to do–I backed away, my hand on the bear spray clipped to my hip. I walked, didn’t run, a mantra I repeated to myself over and over in my head. Walk don’t run, walk don’t run. If I was about to be eaten, at least no one could say I hadn’t followed the recommended safety guidance.
It was difficult to stumble backwards down the intertidal zone, with its sucking mud and large boulders, a top-heavy pack strapped to my back. Mama and babies were moving slowly, though, and when it was clear they weren’t interested in me, I picked up speed. Which is when I noticed the second adult bear.
This bear, even larger than mama, lumbered out of the woods on the exact same trail I had just used, sniffing the ground as though wondering what had left that fresh human scent. Instead of discovering me, though, this large bear looked up to find the sow and her cubs, who had now reached the same spot of beach.
At this point, I turned and walked (still not running!) much quicker. The bears were sizing one another up and were now at least a hundred feet behind me. I kept looking over my shoulder, but they were too distracted with one another to look my way.
I reached a right angle of the coastline, where the water turned inland for miles, and rounded the corner, back the way I had come on my hike. I continued speed-walking for another forty-five minutes before stopping. No bears followed; I didn’t see another one for the rest of my trip.
Now, I made several correct choices in this scenario. Removing myself quickly from Bear-Poop Central. Not attracting the interest of the mother bear by frantically running down the beach hollering. Not attracting the interest of the second bear by frantically running down the beach crying/screeching.
I stuck to my guns and backed away slowly, increasing speed as I increased distance from her. I got myself out of there before the unexpected entrance of yet another bear, without startling mama.
Oh, and I also had that bear canister for my food…
4. Protect your food
After probably a mile of backtracking down the coast away from my close encounter with five bears, I was exhausted. My adrenaline had dissipated, and I needed rest. The Alaskan sunset arrives late even in September, but it was after 8pm–darkness would be coming for me soon.
I set up camp amid the roots of a large Sitka spruce tree (one not decorated with bear poo) and took my cold burrito from its hard plastic bear canister. I dined in the intertidal zone, so that any odors or food remnants would be washed away by the tides.
Then I wrapped up anything smelly–food scraps, toothpaste–and put it back in the bear canister. I hid the black cylinder, screwed tight to keep scents from getting out and those without opposable thumbs from getting in, far from my camp–maybe farther than I normally would have. I mean, I had seen five bears. Five.
The next morning the canister was where I had left it, untouched. I had not seen any more bears or any sign they had been nearby. I had been able to sleep, feeling safer knowing I had done everything I could. Sometimes the safety training does as much to make you feel safe as it does to make you actually safe.
When in bear country, do what you are told to do with your food or other things that might smell like food (like lotion made with coconuts). Store these items in bear proof containers provided at campgrounds, in your vehicle with your windows rolled up, or in a portable bear canister. Hang your smellables from a tree with rope, if you have no other option.
And never, ever, ever feed a bear. Bears do not need to associate humans or cars or campsites or backpacks or any other human-related things with food. Bears who see humans as a food source become dangerous, and people may get hurt or worse.
For a fed bear, the most likely outcome is that they will end up dead, struck by a vehicle they approached for food or put down after accosting one too many humans.
For more info about food safety and bears, check out this page from the US National Park Service.
5. Make noise
This one is pretty obvious, but I think some people don’t quite understand the principle behind it. When humans make lots of noise–talking, singing–bears can hear us coming. They can remove themselves from our paths if they don’t want to interact with a human.
I’ll never know how many bear encounters I’ve avoided by singing and talking loudly to myself while hiking. The other hikers I encounter may look at me a little oddly, but the bears, they skedaddle, and that’s what I’m after.
You don’t ever want to surprise a bear. Not a good survival tactic. So make lots of noise, especially when hiking in thick forest or where you can’t see what’s around the bend.
To make noise, some people yell “Hey Bear,” as though they are greeting and identifying all potential bears they may meet. This is cute, but other folks may get concerned when they hear another hiker call out the word “BEAR.”
I suggest coming up with your own catchphrase. I knew a fan of walnuts who would scream “I like big nuts!” periodically while hiking, which he claimed had the added bonus of keeping other hikers away as well as the bears.
Or you could sing. On a backpacking trip I once yelled/sang every Beatles song I knew for ten miles of trail, with a little Queen thrown in for good measure. I didn’t see a single bear, and I enjoyed my forest karaoke time immensely.
The point is to make bears aware of your presence and make it loud and annoying. You do this by raising the volume of your voice or clapping your hands. These are human sounds. They tell the bear: an obnoxious Human-Thing is approaching. Yuck, I should leave.
To be clear, what does not indicate that you are a human is the sound of a bell. Sorry makers and wearers of bear bells, but they do not work. They kind of sound like a tinkling little bird, not a human.
Bear safety researcher Dr. Tom Smith shook bells at various volumes around bears in Katmai National Park and recorded no interest from them in the sounds. They certainly didn’t run away.
Stephen Herrero, another bear expert, has suggested that bear bells may actually attract curious bears, who want to know what the bird-like noise is.
Not only do bear bells not repel bears, but they lull the people wearing them into a false sense of security. Great, I have this little bell and now I don’t have to yell or sing or make human noise in bear country! This is the kind of dangerous logic that walks you right into a bear’s rump.
Also, bear bells are not cool. Because they will get you eaten, and being eaten by bears is so not cool.
I remember once hiking in a national park, on a lieu day in plain clothes, and being harassed by an angry woman who lectured me against hiking alone in bear country. She had a point (see next tip), but she was also wearing a bear bell. It jangled as she lectured me on how to avoid bears, and I thought–maybe I am alone but at least I’m not hiking with you?
6. Don’t hike alone
Full disclosure: I have hiked many, many times alone. The examples of bear encounters in this essay occurred when I was hiking alone. As an interpretive park ranger, I was expected to “rove,” or hike alone, to interact with park visitors.
People are more likely to approach a lone ranger, plus many parks just can’t afford to have pairs of rangers out on every trail. (Roving rangers wear radios, bear spray, and stay safe, I promise.)
On off days from work I would often hike alone out of necessity, since if I wasn’t on duty then my colleagues and potential hiking buddies probably were. Also, I just like hiking alone. I like walking at my own pace, listening to the sounds of the natural world, stopping whenever I want to watch a bird or lizard or flower swaying in the breeze.
In bear country, though, it is always a better idea to hike with others. It is much easier to make noise when you are with other people. It is much easier to look big and scary and threatening and not at all like an easy snack when you are in a group. Many of the other tips in this essay work way better when you are not alone.
Once on a backpacking trip with some friends, heavy rain forced us to stop early at a different campsite than the one we had planned for. We had intended to use a bear box for our food, but this emergency campsite didn’t have one. Luckily my friend had brought some rope, and we collected our smelly things in a trash bag and tossed them at the bear pole. And tossed. And tossed.
The rain came in sheets, and the night was so dark that we could see nothing beyond the beam of our headlamps. We each took turns tossing the bag, the rope slipping from our soaked fingers, while the other two focused their headlamps on the pole. It took us thirty minutes to get the damn thing over the pole and tied off.
I would not have been able to do any of that alone. I don’t know if I would have thought to bring rope, and I certainly wouldn’t have been able to get the bag hung and tied without help.
What I’m saying is: it’s better to hike in bear country with other people, especially if you are backpacking.
7. Bring bear spray (if you know how to use it)
As I mentioned before, bear spray is something that I often carry in bear country. It is non-lethal and effective. Another study by Dr. Tom Smith found that 98% of bear spray users escaped attacks with no injuries, compared to 50% of people who used guns.
Bear spray is also toxic as hell and not to be sprayed on yourself, your kids, or your tent to keep the bears away. (It is not bear repellent, and no, I’m not going to tell you the stories of people who have done such things, the second-hand embarrassment is too real.)
Bear spray is a weapon to use in the case of a bear attack, basically an amped up version of pepper spray, and it can be dangerous for humans. If you’re going to carry it, learn how to use it safely.
I am pro-bear spray. If you are interested in learning more about it, check out this info page and video created by Yellowstone National Park.
Conclusion
There are many ways to minimize risk and remain safe while exploring bear country. The key thing to remember is that you are visiting their home, so treat it and the bears with respect.
Stay away from known bear spots (don’t camp amid large piles of bear scat–I speak from experience). Don’t approach any wildlife; no wild animal is a toy or pet.
Follow the tips I’ve laid out here. And have fun. The more confident and prepared you are with your safety plan the more you will be able to let yourself relax and be present while in nature. Which is what you’re out there for in the first place.