These Bears Prefer Fishing to Fighting : Wildlife: Residents of Alaska preserve haven’t learned to dislike humans, creating a natural viewing environment for visitors.

It’s easy to fall into a sense of complacent security at the McNeil River Falls, even when surrounded by the scores of brown bears that come to feed during the salmon spawning runs each summer.

Although bears and visitors mingle without barriers, the bears seem far more interested in having fish for lunch.

But suddenly, the mood changes and the visitors find themselves facing several agitated bears, at arm’s length. Some cubs have become separated from their mothers, and the sows are searching for their them--all milling frantically around the open viewing ledges.

The incident lasts less than a minute but reminds a visitor that he is dealing with creatures that could ruin his day. He is on their turf, at their mercy.

That no visitor has suffered harm in the 18 years that the Alaska Department of Fish and Game has been conducting tours to the site is part of the wonder of McNeil. The spectacle, in a remote, treeless area of Kamishak Bay on the east coast of the upper Alaska Peninsula, is the greatest gathering of bears in North America, perhaps the world.

During this day 71 were seen feeding within a 100-yard stretch. There were 50 at one time.

The bears concentrate at the one stretch of the river where the falls make the fish most vulnerable. Here they are called brown bears, although they are members of the same biological family-- Ursus arctus horribilis-- as the grizzly bears that reside inland. They aren’t quite as large as the Kodiak bears on nearby Kodiak and Afognak Islands, which are the largest land carnivores in the world, but they are big enough. Males will grow to nine feet and more than 1,000 pounds.

A bear is usually angered by violation of his personal space, which in his mind is considerable. When approaching blind turns in a trail, hikers are advised to make human sounds, such as hailing, “Hey, bear!” so the bear will have a chance to avoid a confrontation.

However, bears are curious.

“That’s one thing that gets them into trouble with people,” says Larry Aumiller, who has been supervising the McNeil visits for 15 years. “It’s part of their food-gathering behavior. They check out everything.”

The average bear doesn’t want trouble and won’t create trouble with the average, sensible tourist. But Aumiller says there are two types of bears: “Those that are habituated to humans and those that are not.”

The McNeil bears are habituated to humans, but only at McNeil. The arrangement works because Aumiller is careful not to overwhelm the bears with large numbers of visitors--the daily limit is 10--or alarm them with unpredictable actions.

The visitors can eat their lunches in peace because the bears, unlike the black bears at Yellowstone, have never been fed by man and don’t associate people with handouts of food. Besides, they’re more interested in fishing.

However, all rules are off away from the falls. As they lead visitors through a tundra of alder bushes and wildflowers to and from the falls, Aumiller and his wife, Colleen, carry riot shotguns. They have never had to fire them, but . . .

As the commotion settled down and the sows sorted out their cubs, Aumiller quietly reached for his weapon and advised Colleen to do the same.

“That’s kind of unusual,” he said of the incident.

Apparently, Colleen Aumiller explained, the problem resulted from a spat between the two sows. They are fiercely protective of their cubs.

“The one with two cubs got spooked by the other mother,” she said. “The cubs freaked out and ran from the other bear.”

When the cubs found their way blocked by visitors, they stood up on their hind legs in confusion. One tried to run through a viewing area but Larry Aumiller grabbed a stool to block him, fearing a sow might follow, and inadvertently pushed him over a ledge.

“Cubs are not afraid of people,” Colleen Aumiller said.

A few minutes later, one sow returned downstream to resume her fishing, seemingly content but with only one of her two cubs.

“That’s one thing we’ve learned about bears,” Colleen Aumiller said. “They can’t count.”

And cubs sometimes have difficulty identifying their mothers, although this one eventually found his way back.

Alaska Fish and Game receives almost 2,000 applications a year from those who want to visit McNeil. Only 140 permits are drawn, each good for four consecutive days. But because a third or more of the permit days aren’t used, standbys have a good chance of getting in.

That morning, Aumiller had checked in six permittees, meaning there were four spots left for standbys. He spread a deck of cards on a table in the cook cabin--high cards win.

A reporter drew the three of diamonds, but John Hechtel, a Fish and Game bear biologist from Anchorage who had drawn a better card, graciously offered his spot so as not to break up a group that had come by boat from the Chenik Brown Bear Camp the day before.

Even Fish and Game employees get no special treatment at McNeil. Hechtel would go the next day.

Aumiller timed the departure and return for low tide because the shortest route was across a tidal mudflat, where only a few bears fished. The party--Larry Aumiller in front, Colleen in the rear, shotguns slung on their shoulders--marched single-file, arriving at the falls in an hour.

There were only 15 to 20 bears feeding through the early afternoon, but after 4 the rush started until all the best fishing holes were taken.

All brown bears do not look alike. Some are light brown, others dark brown, some a mix. Others are easily identifiable by old battle scars. Bears lock their jaws when fighting, and one at McNeil has a broken jaw that never set right.

The Aumillers know all the adult bears by sight. They have logged and named 84 as current regulars at McNeil, along with 42 cubs.

There is a pecking order at McNeil. Groucho, a large, dark male, commands the prime site, sitting on his haunches all day in a small pool in mid-stream where salmon more than two feet long must pass his claws and jaws to get upstream. Lesser bears wait respectfully for the established bears, like Groucho, to catch and eat their fill.

As a bear called Rusty approached his usual spot, another bear--Cecil--captured a large salmon in his claws and departed in the opposite direction, avoiding a confrontation.

The Aumillers are concerned about Rusty, who is probably in his mid-20s and past his prime.

“He’s losing weight,” Colleen said, “and he may be losing his sight and hearing. Once he mistook Larry for a bear.”

Groucho was originally one of an obviously named trio, Harpo and Chico having long since disappeared to uncertain fates. Groucho might allow them to fish his site, but it is doubtful. Certainly, any other potential intruder arouses a rise to all fours and a hard, withering stare. Nobody challenges his claim.

While the other bears retire fish-in-mouth to atop a nearby rock to feed or amble up the slopes to hide in the alders, Groucho eats his catch on the spot, secure in his status. He will consume 30 or more fish in a day.

At the other extreme is Ted, the forlorn, fainthearted son of Teddy, who is something of a celebrity around McNeil. Teddy, with her light head and darker body, has been pictured on the dust covers of three books about bears and was most recently cover girl for National Wildlife magazine.

“Teddy’s our old favorite,” Colleen Aumiller said. “She’s so good and protective.”

Larry Aumiller told of a time a few years ago when he was tempted to break his own rule: never touch a bear. He had left the door of his cabin open to nab a bold squirrel that had been causing problems. Instead, Teddy started to walk in.

“She had both front paws inside the door,” Aumiller said. “I could have reached out and given her a pat on the head, but I just said, ‘No bears allowed in here.’ She slowly backed out. Ted was with her.”

Poor Ted probably hasn’t caught a fish in his life, preferring to sneak up on other, smaller bears and steal their catches. When a large bear approaches, Ted heads the other way.

Generally, among bears, the bigger bear rules, although behavior also is important--if a bear is easily bluffed. Ted is easily bluffed, but he isn’t the only one that is easily intimidated.

“They’re continually testing one another,” Aumiller said. “If one bear can get another to break and run, Bear One becomes dominant. It can change, depending on how hungry they are, but size is the main criterion.

“Little guys have a heck of a time getting in there and getting a fish. Most of them are very nervous. They spend a lot of time looking (from the banks).”

Fossey, a small sow barely larger than her two cubs, arrives at the top of the falls, stands and claps her paws to announce herself.

“That’s unique to her . . . a little show of aggression,” Colleen Aumiller says.

Fossey is named for the late Dian Fossey, the naturalist whose work with wildlife inspired her 1983 book and the motion picture, “Gorillas In the Mist.”

Fossey quickly catches a fish in her paws. “Now you’re gonna see some carrying on, when the cubs get to her,” Larry Aumiller says.

Fossey races up the slope with her cubs in pursuit, and there is much growling and tugging for the catch.

Another sow approaches from high on the opposite bank, but her tiny cub clings to her legs, holding her back.

Colleen, mimicking the cub, says: “Hey, mom, look at all those bears down there.”

Each bear has his own style of fishing. Some younger, inexperienced ones thrash about. Others sit by the side and try to swat fish out of the water.

Groucho sits motionless, then clutches with his claws in quick thrusts. Rusty grabs the fish that slip back from trying to climb the falls. Goggles arrives at 5:40, methodically studies the situation, then sits down in a large pool, as if settling onto a bar stool.

One bear, unidentified, strolls into the pool until he’s almost submerged, then dips his head underwater and “snorkles” for his fish.

All seem oblivious to the visitors.

Said Hechtel, the state bear biologist: “This is the greatest place in the world for seeing bears. This is like the Vatican for me.”

The concentration of bears at McNeil was discovered in the 1950s, and as word spread--assisted by an article in National Geographic--unsupervised visitors came to watch, and incidents resulted in the killing of two bears.

The state declared McNeil a game sanctuary in ’67 and in ’73 instituted the visitor quota program now in place. It seems to have worked.

“Bears are dangerous,” Hechtel said, “(but) they’re basically playful, amicable animals. Breeding, eating and feeding their young are their concerns. People say bears are unpredictable, but that’s not true. Bears are generally more willing to live with people than vice versa. (At McNeil), they haven’t gotten food from people and the people haven’t been threatened by bears, so there haven’t been any problems.”

It bothers Hechtel and the Aumillers when a “rogue” bear is destroyed for harming or threatening a person. Usually, the person has unwittingly provoked the bear in some way. Larry Aumiller said: “We’ve tried to create a situation where the bears won’t be wary of us, (but) we don’t want them to be aggressive, either. In time, the bears came to realize we are not a threat.

“Bears and people can live together. We have this innate fear, but we also have the intellectual capacity to do it. Just don’t kill them.”

HOW TO SEE THE BEARS AT THE McNEIL RIVER

Applications for four-day permits to see the bears at the McNeil River in July and August may be sent, with $50, to: Alaska Dept. of Fish and Game, 333 Raspberry Road, Anchorage, Alaska, 99518-1599. Applications must be received by May 1. The 140 permittees are selected by lottery. Those not selected receive a refund, less a $10 application fee. Applicants should be conditioned to outdoor activity. Minimum age is 12.

Since many permits and permit-days are not used, standby applicants ($25 fee) may camp at McNeil River base camp for up to seven days to await daily openings. Air transportation from Homer is $255. Also, all arrangements, including transportation, food, camping and accommodations at the nearby Chenik Brown Bear Camp, may be made through the Kachemak Bay Wilderness Lodge, China Poot Bay, P.O. Box 956, Homer, AK 99603.