Dandrea Trail leads to some of the highest peaks in the Bradshaw Mountains, and on a hot day in June it might be one of the coolest hikes in the Prescott area. I first hiked this heavily forested and bird-filled trail at the very end of summer last year, so it seemed like a fitting way to start a hike early this summer season. While I was expecting to see the rich variety of birds I saw last year, I harbored a not-so-secret wish to see a bear for the first time. Little did I know it would be a dream come true!
I was reminded just how remote the trail was when I arrived on a hot Saturday at the trailhead and saw only one other parked car. Spotting my very first red-faced warbler just several feet into the morning hike was yet another reminder of the area's rich birding habitat. But it was higher up the trail, just before reaching a saddle with its crisscrossing paths to higher peaks, where I had my once-in-a-lifetime encounter.
Black bears populate most of states in the union, and Arizona is no exception. Locally they prefer higher elevations, above 4,000 feet, where their habitat is mostly forested. However, they are known to occasionally venture into the desert and even into the suburbs of our big cities like Phoenix and Tucson, not to mention Prescott. And they are mostly solitary creatures that range up to fifty square miles in search of food. Nonetheless, encountering them in the Prescott area is rare, and all the more reason for my excitement.
As I was nearing the saddle, I heard a scratching or rustling ahead of a gentle bend in the trail. My first thought was there was another hiker from that lone car at the trailhead coming down with his or her dog. In fact, when I saw the shaggy, black fur of an animal, I thought for sure it was a dog. But in a split second I realized the dark, rounded figure was a bear! Strangely, my first reaction was to exclaim, "Bear! It's a bear!" loud enough for my hiking companion several feet behind me to hear. But it wasn't a warning, it was a joyful outburst.
It's likely that the bear was aware of our presence, and heard us long before I encountered him. But it's possible I might have warned him, preventing the surprise you never want to give this wild animal. As a result, I never saw the animal's nose, eyes or ears or anything that resembled a face, let alone teeth or claws. I think I distinguished a head, but overall it was mostly an inky, mass of fur and haunches scurrying off the trail and down a slope into the forest's green underbrush.
Exhilaration hardly begins to describe my feelings from this brief but lucky encounter. It happened so fast that I never thought to reach for the camera that was on my back, slung over my left shoulder and already set with a fast shutter speed for birding. But the swoosh of the bushes as the bear scampered are indelible in my ears and his presence cemented in my mind, so I don't miss having a photograph. A memory of my first encounter with a bear in the Arizona wild, in a mountain range I call home in the summer, is all the reward I could ask.
I was reminded just how remote the trail was when I arrived on a hot Saturday at the trailhead and saw only one other parked car. Spotting my very first red-faced warbler just several feet into the morning hike was yet another reminder of the area's rich birding habitat. But it was higher up the trail, just before reaching a saddle with its crisscrossing paths to higher peaks, where I had my once-in-a-lifetime encounter.
Black bears populate most of states in the union, and Arizona is no exception. Locally they prefer higher elevations, above 4,000 feet, where their habitat is mostly forested. However, they are known to occasionally venture into the desert and even into the suburbs of our big cities like Phoenix and Tucson, not to mention Prescott. And they are mostly solitary creatures that range up to fifty square miles in search of food. Nonetheless, encountering them in the Prescott area is rare, and all the more reason for my excitement.
As I was nearing the saddle, I heard a scratching or rustling ahead of a gentle bend in the trail. My first thought was there was another hiker from that lone car at the trailhead coming down with his or her dog. In fact, when I saw the shaggy, black fur of an animal, I thought for sure it was a dog. But in a split second I realized the dark, rounded figure was a bear! Strangely, my first reaction was to exclaim, "Bear! It's a bear!" loud enough for my hiking companion several feet behind me to hear. But it wasn't a warning, it was a joyful outburst.
It's likely that the bear was aware of our presence, and heard us long before I encountered him. But it's possible I might have warned him, preventing the surprise you never want to give this wild animal. As a result, I never saw the animal's nose, eyes or ears or anything that resembled a face, let alone teeth or claws. I think I distinguished a head, but overall it was mostly an inky, mass of fur and haunches scurrying off the trail and down a slope into the forest's green underbrush.
Exhilaration hardly begins to describe my feelings from this brief but lucky encounter. It happened so fast that I never thought to reach for the camera that was on my back, slung over my left shoulder and already set with a fast shutter speed for birding. But the swoosh of the bushes as the bear scampered are indelible in my ears and his presence cemented in my mind, so I don't miss having a photograph. A memory of my first encounter with a bear in the Arizona wild, in a mountain range I call home in the summer, is all the reward I could ask.
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