Like many rural Americans, I enjoy watching wildlife. Next to beer, birdseed constitutes the greatest nonessential expenditure of the weekly grocery budget. Regular visitors to our feeders include squadrons of blue Steller’s Jays and, sporting grey uniforms, platoons of band-tailed pigeons; as well as juncos, chickadees, sparrows, a few red-winged blackbirds, varied thrushes and towhees. Mammal-wise we get the local squirrels, chipmunks and the not-so-regular raccoon or bear.

Now, some of you might be saying, “Bear?!?” “Oh, my!” or “Hasn’t this guy ever heard, ‘A fed bear is a dead bear’?” In answer to that last outburst, sure, I’ve heard that despotic dictum, but I guess I’m not so ursiphobic as to think that any bear who cashes in on an easy meal once in a while should be doomed to destruction. I hold bears in high regard and know from extensive experience that most encounters with bears are not life or death situations (at least not for the human). However, if the human involved in a chance meeting is armed and fearful, it can—and all-too-often does—prove fatal for the bear. 

I suppose, with their teeth, claws and bulk, bears appear to some people as furry land sharks, yet they are known to be some of the most rational and intelligent animals you’ll ever meet. Their life experience is as rich and valid as that of your dog, your cat or your pig (depending on whether you’re a dog, cat or pig person). Like humans, they can usually be reasoned with.

Perhaps the thing that puts people on the defensive when they see bears (aside from their size and pointy appendages) is that the Ursidae family can be a bit more brazen than the average guest at your bird feeder. Bears demand something humans aren’t used to giving up to non-humans:  respect.

For millions of years bears wore the crown of “king of the forest,” but ever since hominids got a taste for meat and started wielding sharpened sticks—followed by fire, bows and arrows, and rifles—the genus Homo has been on point to claw its way to the top. Modern humans have long since quashed the competition; we should appreciate that bears, for the most part, don’t carry a grudge.

Personally, I enjoy seeing the occasional bear at the feeder (or birdbath) just as much as the regular bird, squirrel or chipmunk guests. I resent having to scare them off so they won’t get too comfortable around people. As with all animals, bears respond favorably to kindness—and negatively to aggression. Not that folks should corrupt them with open dumps and overflowing garbage cans, make pets of them or ask them to pose for pictures with children sitting on their backs, but we shouldn’t base our relationship with bears entirely upon mutual fear and distrust.