December is the one month of the year when bear hunters are allowed to use hounds to track their game. This traditional method of hunting remains deeply unpopular among some Virginians. But as Jessie Knadler reports, some bear-hound hunters claim they are some of the species biggest conservationists.
I’m on my very first bear hunt on North Mountain with a group of houndsmen from Craig County. Think burly dudes with beards, camouflage and walkie talkies. Their hounds are outfitted with GPS collars. We’ve been tracking a bear almost all day.
Scrambling, up yet another mountain following the sound of the barking dogs, the hunters surround what looks like a dead tree. They point to indicate the bear is hiding in a large hole toward the top of the trunk.
One of the hunters bangs the tree with a stick. Nothing happens. He then throws a few small stones into the hole to flush the bear.
A small black furry head pops out. In a flash, the bear leaps from the tree. I wait for the crack of gunfire. Instead, the bear throws itself down the hill and runs away. The dogs are held back by leashes.
These hunters did something I didn’t expect, they let the bear go.
"We grew up hunting bear. They were our adversaries," says David Steger.
Steger was, until very recently, President of the Virginia Bear Hunting Association.
"For something to pursue that would really give you a sense of accomplishment when you finally got one up a tree, you know it was always the bear, and you know that comes from loving to hunt with dogs. The dogs were always a passion," he explains.
Many states have banned bear hunting with hounds outright. Critics call it inhumane and unethical. And Steger agrees there are some unethical bear hunters out there.
"I seen where they threw the whole thing over the bank, the whole bear, it hadn’t even been gutted," Steger describes. "I don’t understand why. A lot of people don’t eat them. We do. These boys will fight you over the bear meat."
But Steger says those hunters represent a small minority, and that his association has campaigned hard to change that perception. Their lobbying efforts are actually part of why the state’s bear population is so high.
It sounds a bit mercenary: protecting a species in order to hunt it. But not to Jaime Sajecki.
"I don’t come from a hunting background. My interest all through my schooling is wildlife management," says Sajecki.
She is the Black Bear Project Leader for Virginia’s Game Department. She’s a vegetarian. She studies bears for a living. She wears Birkenstocks. She could not be further apart on the philosophical spectrum from David Steger, and yet they’ve forged a surprising alliance when it comes to protecting bears.
"What’s really been eye opening with hunters is how much they fight for keeping our open spaces and keeping our wild spaces," she says. "Hunters know more about bears and bear biology than your average citizen. The passion that I have for bears and for bear management is shared by these hunting groups and that really did surprise me."
Steger’s association has participated in bear biology studies. They were the driving force behind the Game Department’s decision to separate bear hunting from the traditional $22 “big game” license after surveys showed that more than half of all bears were being shot by hunters tracking other game.
He and Sajecki also agree there are better ways of dealing with nuisance bears than issuing kill permits to farmers.
"It’s not just a job to her just like it’s not just a sport for me," Steger says. "We both actually care for the bear’s welfare and the resource that it is. It hurts us when it’s squandered or misused."
These and other efforts have allowed Virginia’s bear population to grow 9-percent since 2000 to an estimated 17,000 bears today. And last year’s bear harvest was more than 2,300 — the second highest on record.
