I’m in mild shock to hear that no bears have dropped by. “Oh, they’ll show up,” says Green 2. “A lot of these groups can’t fit all their food in the one locker they get. And some bring kitchen refrigerators and draft beer machines, which usually doesn’t work out so well, because bears love beer.”
We continue our prowl, sharking through Upper Pines Campground. Green 1, wearing headphones, starts getting agitated. “Orange 15’s here, she’s right here.” We step out and sweep the area with our halogens. Green 2 holds her light steady, shining it down the asphalt lane toward a distant washroom. A medium-sized bear waddles purposefully through the beam. Harassment ensues, thus showing Orange 15 that human surroundings are not rewarding. Technically, this is called aversive conditioning, but tonight it seems more ritual than anything. “Orange 15’s a mature 12-year-old female,” says Green 2. “She knows the drill.”
Sure enough, after a short gallop into Lower Pines, we’re standing at an impasse, the wily sow staring out from a barbed-wire thicket of blackberry. During the standoff, three interpretive rangers walk up, keying off their own radio-telemetry. Curious campers gather, attracted by the flat hats, spotlights, and paintball armaments.
One potbellied guy in a tank top tells us that Yellow 20, Tuesday’s quarry, “rolled right in here” that morning and approached bacon-frying campers before being chased off. At 1:30 p.m., she’d reappeared at the edge of a nearby meadow, and spent the afternoon napping, rolling around, and “just doing natural stuff, eating those green pinecones. It was neat. Everybody got great pictures.”