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Number of human-bear conflicts grows

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Monday, July 4, 2011 9:47 PM
Durango Herald/SHAUN STANLEY
Colorado Division of Wildlife technician Lyle Willmarth, center and researcher Heather Johnson, left, read measurements to field technician Tom Day from a female bear trapped in the Perins Peak State Wildlife Area as part of an ongoing research project.
Durango Herald/SHAUN STANLEY
A blood sample is taken from a female bear trapped in the Perins Peak wildlife area.
Durango Herald/SHAUN STANLEY
As sedated bear number B25 sleeps, Colorado Division of Wildlife researcher Heather Johnson discusses the measurements and tests to be performed on the bear with technician Lyle Willmarth, right, and field technician Tom Day. The bear was trapped in the Perins Peak wildlife area as part of an ongoing research project.

It’s breakfast time on a sunny June morning, and bear No. B25 is spitting mad.

The previous night, she was strolling in Perins Peak wildlife area, and she found some fruit in the back of a metal trailer that turned out to be a Colorado Division of Wildlife trap.

When she sees wildlife technician Lyle Willmarth, she sticks her head through the bars, snarls and unloads a mouthful of bear spit.

“That tasted good,” Willmarth said, wiping his mouth.

Willmarth is a veteran bear trapper. He and other division of wildlife workers are busy around Durango this summer looking for clues to the growing problem of human-bear conflicts.

Bear No. B25 isn’t the only one who is angry about the situation.

Rep. J. Paul Brown, R-Ignacio, sponsored a bill this year to partially repeal a voter-approved ban on summer bear hunting as a way to deal with human-bear conflicts.

The bill failed, but it brought to the surface a simmering debate over the bear population and exposed hard feelings that remain from 1992’s Amendment 10, when voters banned bear hunting before Sept. 1 and the use of bait or dogs.

The Colorado Wool Growers Association passed a resolution that says “the bear population is out of control and (Amendment 10) significantly hamstrings the Division of Wildlife’s ability to address problems.”

The scientific verdict on the population is still out. But everyone agrees that bears and humans are increasingly in conflict.

Just recently, a homeless man was nicked at an illegal campsite near Manna Soup Kitchen, the same place a bear bit a man last year.



Hard to count



The last time to division of wildlife estimated the population was in 2003, when it projected a statewide population of 12,000 to 15,000 black bears, said Jerry Apker, the division of wildlife’s statewide carnivore manager.

“The state of our knowledge about bear population densities is fairly limited. They’re a difficult animal to census,” Apker said.

He co-wrote an unpublished 2009 study that attempted a census around Aspen and Trinidad.

By snagging fur and analyzing DNA, Apker’s team developed population estimates of 45 to 55 bears per 100 square kilometers, or 1.2 to 1.4 bears per square mile.

Those rank among the higher population estimates from similar studies in the Rocky Mountain West, but the numbers don’t apply statewide because Aspen and Trinidad are two of the state’s best bear habitats.

Biologists also look at hunting data. Hunters have been killing more bears, with a slightly higher success rate than 20 years ago.



‘Familiarity breeds contempt’



Dick Ray, a Pagosa Springs hunting outfitter, used to practice catch-and-release hunting with dogs, driving bears up trees and letting them go. He doesn’t do that anymore, and he doesn’t enjoy killing bears.

Ray speaks reverently of a huge, reddish-colored bear that he and friends used to chase on horses. The bear was fast and smart, and they never did get him up a tree.

One year, two California hunters spotted him and shot him.

“They didn’t measure up to his standards,” Ray said. “I’m half the man that bear was. Those guys just killed him and didn’t even know who he was.”

But as president of the Colorado Outfitters Association, Ray lobbied for Brown’s bill, saying hunters and wildlife managers have a responsibility to keep wildlife populations in balance.

“I would say there’s every bit of evidence to say, yes, there are more bears,” said Ray, a former member of the Colorado Wildlife Commission.

As Ray’s old hunting grounds have turned into subdivisions, today’s bears see humans as less and less of a threat, he said.

“Familiarity breeds contempt, whether it’s man or beast,” Ray said.



Human deaths rare



Bears have killed three people in Colorado since 1960. The most recent was the 2009 death of a Ouray County woman who had been feeding local bears from her home.

Bears have killed three people in Colorado since 1960.

They have injured 39 people between 2000 and 2010, according to division of wildlife records.

But it’s bears that almost always fare worse in conflicts with humans.

From 1995 to 2010, division of wildlife workers, federal officers and landowners killed 1,930 Colorado bears. Other causes — mostly road kill — took the lives of 1,469 bears since 1995.

In addition, hunters kill between 450 and 900 bears a year, according to the division of wildlife.

Spring and fall forage conditions drive conflicts, Apker said. When spring vegetation dries out or late freezes kill the fall crops of serviceberries and acorns, bears go on the move. That’s when they get hit by cars or wander into town. Many people don’t understand the dynamic, Apker said.

“They see all these conflicts, and they think we must have 10 times the number of bears,” he said. “They were all there to begin with. It’s just that they had no reason to get into trouble.”

Brian Petersen of Bear Smart Durango is not wrapped up in the debate over whether the bear population is rising.

“I could care less. It doesn’t help me to know whether it’s two bears in town or 30,” Peterson said. “In terms of reducing conflict, the number of bears doing it is nearly irrelevant.”



B25’s role



Knowing the cause and knowing the solution are two different things.

Bear No. B25 could help find the solution.

She was the 30th bear the division of wildlife trapped in the Durango area this year, but just the 10th female, said Heather Johnson, who is in charge of the study.

Willmarth, the trapper, jabs B25 with a sedative. Ten minutes later, she’s out cold, and Johnson, Willmarth and wildlife technician Tom Day are monitoring her vital signs, taking hair and blood samples, measuring and weighing her — 142 pounds — and pulling a tooth to find her age.

After another injection to wake her up, B25’s ears twitch, she stands up, glances back at the division of wildlife crew and walks off toward a hillside.

“This will be just a fog. Hopefully, she’ll just take a nap and go about her day,” Johnson said.

Johnson’s goal this year is to trap 25 females and fit them with satellite collars to track their movements.

Next year, trappers will try to collar 50 more sows, and the project will last at least five or six years, Johnson said.

The study aims to add to the division of wildlife’s knowledge about human conflicts, and it was in the works before the Legislature debated the spring bear hunt.

The division of wildlife will supply large parts of Durango with bear-resistant trash containers to see if they keep bears out of town. Johnson will look at data from around the state to see if increased hunting can help.

She also wants to know whether urban areas like Durango act as a magnet for the bear population or a “sink,” where bears die from road kill or after human encounters.

By the end of the study, Johnson hopes to learn better methods to count bears and keep them out of trouble.

For now, she can watch B25 on a Google map that tracks her satellite signals several times a day.

B25 has been sticking to state and federal land since her run-in with the division of wildlife.

“She hasn’t been recaptured,” Johnson said. “She’s doing pretty good.”



Reach Joe Hanel at joeh@cortezjournal.com.

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