That time I caught a bear cub falling out of a tree

The two orphan cubs rescued by the Bear Group, all grown up at the rehabbers.

Yes, these are the kinds of things that can happen to you when you get involved with these New Jersey bear people. You know the ones. They'll convince you to go out on a midnight hike in subzero weather, or invite you skinny dipping in some secret lake. Or enlist you to help find two missing bear cubs...

(And while I really want to tell you about being arrested for helping to free a bear from a Fish & Wildlife trap, I can't do that till after my court date! So...back to the old story of the missing cubs.)

When Lynda Smith ran the BEAR Group years ago, the Division of Fish & Wildlife had been coming to Vernon, killing mother bears and leaving the cubs to fend for themselves. When she heard that there were two orphans running around Highland Lakes, she organized a search party. The media was notified of our plan and DFW was put on notice: we would find the cubs, and they would bring them to a wildlife rehabber.

All morning we knocked on doors. Reports of "They were in my backyard last night!" and "Hey I just saw them this morning!" were encouraging, yet hours later we still hadn't found them. We were about to call it a day when one of our guys raced up to us on his motorcycle, and before he could yell "I JUST saw them run across Canistear toward the lake!", we were running en masse to Lake Wanda.

Bears love lakes and marshy areas. We followed the water's edge as close as we could, given the surrounding houses. Lynda was the first to spot them. According to plan, the cubs did what their mother taught them, and as we closed in, they climbed the nearest tree to hide till dangerd passes.

Each cub climbed a different tree. And so we split into two groups, guarding them. I called DFW and told them to come and help us. An hour later when no one arrived, we called again. And again. Was DFW standing us up? After what seemed like forever, someone arrived, but it wasn't DFW. It was the Vernon Police. 

I was getting kind of nervous. Seriously, the police, why? Not counting that one time I got in trouble for driving on the suspended list, I had never been arrested before...not with these folks. I was afraid the cops would try to make us leave. But we couldn't leave the cubs! What would happen to them? And to us? (Did I need bail money??) Then I heard someone say that                the police were also calling DFW and telling them to get down here...now! Apparently our rescue mission had turned into a "situation." People were lining up on the side of Canistear Road to watch. An accident could happen. A tired bear cub could fall out of the tree and land on someone's head. And the DFW, never thinking in a million years we'd find these cubs, and not too happy with us, was now MIA.

Fast forward 5 hours later, a DFW officer reluctantly arrives to help this ragtag bunch of animal rights activists. He circles the tree with a net and about 10 of us each take a piece in our hands. I watch him raise a tranquilizer gun and fire it at the frightened cub, over 20 feet up in the tree. To our dismay, when it hits him, he climbs even higher. I am beginning to panic. I have a gym class flashbacks when I'm in the field praying, "God, please don't let the ball come toward me..." I watch the cub and he's sitting very still. He begins to lean backward. The DFW officer shouts, "He's falling THAT way." Away from me. And then, not unlike when someone realizes they have fallen asleep in an inappropriate place, the cub startles himself back awake. And he falls...directly...toward...ME. I hear the officer yell "No, he's coming THIS WAY!"

The cub fell in slow motion. I saw his furry little head catch the sunlight on the way down, as he did a graceful somersault. I reached out and I braced myself as hard as I could and with a giant WHUMP he landed directly into my awaiting arms, like you'd catch a baby someone just dropped out of a burning building.

The cub fell in slow motion. I saw his furry little head catch the sunlight on the way down, as he did a graceful somersault. I reached out and I braced myself as hard as I could and with a giant WHUMP he landed directly into my awaiting arms, like you'd catch a baby someone just dropped out of a burning building. He was only the size of a dog, but I could only hold him for about two seconds before sinking to my knees under his weight. I held him there in my lap as everyone fawned over him.

For bear #2, it was Sussex Electric to the rescue. She had climbed so high they needed a cherry picker to pluck her out of the tree. Now both cubs were in the truck and on their way to a wildlife rehabber. People were crying. I remember Lynda following DFW in her little red sports car, to make sure they actually got to rehab and not dumped in the woods.

Months later, we received this photo of the two cubs playing in a tub. I don't know which bear is which. Did you know... a bear can live to be 30 years old? But where they are hunted, they usually only make it to about four. I think of him. I wonder if he's safe, and if he made it through the hunts after their release. I hope so.