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| Proud Goldfinch |
So here is the story.
For years Susan and I have
been frustrated by periodic bear attacks on our bird feeders. The feeder would suddenly be missing or
dragged away down the embankment toward Partridge Brook, and the Sheppard hook would
be bent down in a curve, often impossible to straighten. Sometimes we could salvage the sadly mauled
feeder, but after our most recent attack this summer the poor thing was devastated
beyond repair.
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| Male Cardinal |
We love our birds, with the
feeders attracting Chickadees, Titmouse, Woodpeckers, Cardinals, Nuthatches, Purple
and House Sparrows, and, this year, an especially prolific and brilliant
collection of Goldfinch. We could not
forsake our feathered friends, so we got a new feeder and set it out among a
collection of branches hung to provide convenient perching locations. The branches also provided me the opportunity
to photograph the birds in more natural appearing settings.
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| Chickadee |
Over the last couple of weeks,
the birds have gone crazy, camping on the branches, and draining our new,
larger, feeder every day. Because the
bears have always attacked at night, we resumed bringing the feeder into the
house every evening. No problem?
Over the years, our feeders
have probably been bear smacked 6-7 times.
It is annoying, but most frustrating for me as a photographer is that during
all this time, I have never seen, much less been able to photograph, one of
these felons.
Earlier this week on my
return from a walk, I noticed that the feeder was missing. It was noon, and I knew that it could not
have been a bear attack, not in the middle of a bright and busy summer day, but
the feeder was gone. And then I saw the
bear lurking at the edge of the steep bank leading down to Partridge Brook. For
just one second, I cursed my presumptions about daytime attacks, and then I ran
into the house to get my camera, quickly attaching my 100-400mm telephoto. When I returned outside, the bear was gone,
and I cursed myself a second time for not grabbing a quick and fuzzy iPhone pic
of the beast when I had the chance. I was certain that my compulsion to
“gear-up” had robbed me of the chance to finally capture a shot of our bear.
The bear was nowhere to be
seen and I heard no rustling in the woods.
Dejectedly, I wandered to the edge of the bank hoping to catch a glimpse
of the bear retreating far below along the brook.
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| Peek-a-Boo! |
Then suddenly, a black
apparition jumped from behind a tree, just 20 feet from my nearly soiled
underwear. We stared, he huffed, and then something strange and stupid
happened. Before I retreated to our
deck, I actually stood and snapped several quick pictures of the face-off. I
don’t know what I was thinking. I can
only guess that my photographer’s brain must have taken over and refused to
miss yet another chance to “bag” my bear.
I don’t remember if I attempted to focus, but I must have tried, since
the focal length was 320mm and I was expecting to see something far down the
bank. I had no chance to make any other
adjustments and, on aperture priority of f14, the shutter was only 1/25th
second. Not surprisingly, two of the
three images were a bit blurry, but miraculously, one shot was passably sharp. In retrospect, I am only happy that I had no pictures of massive
claws descending onto my head. Good sense quickly took over, and I scampered back
to the relative safety of our deck.
Again, the bear had
disappeared, but just as I caught my breath, Mr. Bear returned. He meandered along the bank edge and nearly
chased us into house when he ventured further into the yard. He turned out to be a very cooperative model,
but my decision to grab my telephoto was vindicated. I was able to get sharp close-up shots with
the lens stabilized on the deck railing. He was an impressive beast, probably at
least 250-300 lbs., but my estimate may have been affected by our earlier close
encounter. Incidentally, I feel
comfortable referring to the bear as “he” since review of my images provided
ample evidence of his gender.
I finally bagged my bear and
learned some important lessons. First, we can no longer feed our birds in the
summer. Removing the feeder at night is
no longer proof against increasingly bold animals. We hope to salvage our feeder from down by
the brook, but it won’t be rehung until after hibernation in the winter. Second, being surprised by a bear, 20 feet
away, is not the time for photographs – duh!
Black bears generally do not attack humans, but that was crazy. Finally, I will miss all my beautiful birds,
but during the summer they will have no problem finding food. I will be there for them when the snow flies.
It may be awhile before I get
another chance to capture such great bear shots, but I will be satisfied grabbing many more pictures of our little grandson, “Bear Cub” Owen.
Jeff Newcomer, NEPG
www.partridgebrookreflections.com
