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Wildlife Bearing Up Quite Well in Connecticut July 30, 2009 Spring may be when a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love, but the American black bear waits until summer. Males out lookin’ for love -- or at least, er, “temporary companionship” -- lead to quite a few bear sightings this time of year. Females willing to oblige -- as well as mommas bulking up for the winter while teaching survival skills to precocious cubs -- also contribute to the rapidly growing number of human-bear encounters in Connecticut. Bears vanished from the Nutmeg State in 1840. European settlement of Quinnehtukqut hadn’t been kind to them. Nearly every tree was chopped down for heating, construction, or agriculture. And animal-rights loons weren’t around to harass hunters. But Ursus americanus didn’t leave forever. In the 1950s, males began to wander into the Northwest Corner, and by the 1980s, a breeding population took hold. The comeback isn’t a product of government policy, but economic and technological shifts. A century ago, farming’s share of the state economy began its long decline, giving way to the manufacturing and service sectors. Hydrocarbons replaced firewood. And cheaper substitutes were found for Connecticut-grown timber. As a result, a remarkable reforestation occurred. The groundless claims of “sprawl” paranoiacs notwithstanding, the state is suffused with trees -- more than half of Connecticut is forested. Water, grass, wetlands, and farmland comprise a quarter of the state’s acreage. Just 18.7 percent is developed. With its habitat restored, the black bear is back, bigtime. There are now as many as 400 living in the state. (Some say that number is too conservative.) Wilton, Monroe, Waterbury, Torrington, Granby, West Hartford, Bristol, Glastonbury, Middlefield, East Haddam, Stonington, Killingly -- they turn up in communities large and small. Bears thrive, in part, due to their amazing adaptability. They’re nearly as smart as primates, and that’s what makes them so adept at raiding campsites and backyards. Black bears certainly have the ability to turn you into a Hot Pocket. They’re fast, despite their girth, and have claws and teeth capable of tearing a man to shreds. However, there are very few documented cases of black-bear aggression. Even sows with cubs seem more inclined to run, or climb a tree, than attack. (Their grizzly cousins aren’t so docile.) Still, bears are omnivorous, and have little aversion to foraging in human-controlled areas. One night in the fall of 2007, a Plainfield couple returned home to discover their rabbit hutch had been “tossed about 15 feet and turned over.” Blood, skin, and tufts of fur were all that remained of their pet. Bears’ sense of smell is so strong, it puts bloodhounds to shame. So put your garbage by the road as late as possible. Don’t store dog or cat food outside. Keep the grill clean. Don’t throw meat on the compost pile. If you must have a birdfeeder, take it down in the summer -- winter’s fine, since bears wait out the cold in a cave, ditch, log, or tree cavity. (Strictly speaking, they don’t “hibernate,” since they do wake up occasionally, and females give birth while denning.) Connecticut offers such an attractive ecosystem for bears, a saturation point might be reached. The thought of shooting Yogi and Boo Boo horrifies many Nutmeggers. But one needn’t be a hunter to understand that the sport is a key tool of sound wildlife management. If the state’s ursine population keeps exploding, eco-bureaucrats are sure to permit an open season. (In 2003, New Jersey sanctioned its first bear hunt in 33 years.) According to the state’s Council on Environmental Quality, “Connecticut’s air in 2008 was the best in decades.” Of the six major pollutants tracked by the agency -- sulfur dioxide, lead, carbon monoxide, particulates, nitrogen dioxide, and ozone -- five “showed improvement.” Water (fresh and salt) quality is getting better, too. With a stagnant, if not falling, population, forests will continue to predominate. That’s why bears aren’t the only animals calling Connecticut home. Moose are back. Bald eagles are becoming more numerous. Bottlenose dolphins were recently spotted in Long Island Sound. (Biologists “haven’t seen pods this big since the 1950s,” said an official with the Maritime Aquarium in Norwalk.) Coyotes, which aren’t even native to the state, are so plentiful, some consider them pests. Non-natives will probably never think of Connecticut as anything but a giant suburb of New York City. The state’s wildlife-watchers know that there’s a lot more here than office parks and interstates -- including a big, black, furry mammal that should be given a wide berth. D. Dowd Muska is a writer, commentator and lecturer. His website is www.dowdmuska.com. # # # # #
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