Normally, a male bear does not recognize his offspring, which could explain its capabilities of the killing and even the eating of his own young. This is exceedingly rare in the animal world.
In Minnesota, Bear Biologist Lynn Rodgers studied reported cases, from 1930 to 1978, of both bear and yearling bear being killed by other bear and could only find reports of nine cases, in which this occurred.
Back in the mid seventies, during the spring turkey season, I had spent the morning patrolling for turkey hunters. Nothing unusual had happened--that is until I stopped at my headquarters for lunch. Mary Alice told me that she had received a call about a dead bear that appeared to have been killed by another bear. The area where the incident occurred was at the top of Kellogg Mountain, one of the most remote areas in the county.
After eating a quick lunch, I met with Deputy Harold Haverly, and we headed for Kellogg Mountain. After following the directions we were given, we found the dead bear.
The area was torn up around the site of the bear’s carcass, and it was quite obvious from the looks of the site that a fight between two bears had occurred. The dead bear was a small female, weighing approximately 140 pounds, with deep slashes covering the body. Upon checking the area, we found a den where the female had spent the winter. We also found bear droppings that contained small bones, claws and bear hair.
Thinking that our Bear Biologist Gary Alt would be interested in seeing the dead bear, we headed off the mountain to find a telephone.
In the conversation with Gary, he said that very little data had been collected on bear killing other bear in the wild. He went on to say that while the female bear had been in the den, she probably had a cub that died, and she had eaten the cub. This could explain the contents of the bear droppings. Gary requested that I return to the area and set several foot snares around the dead bear, hoping that the other bear would come back to feed upon it.
We returned to my headquarters to pick up the snares and then headed back to Kellogg Mountain. Much to our surprise we found the bear’s carcass gone. We checked the area for drag marks but were unable to find any. It was obvious that the larger bear had returned and carried the dead bear away.
The area on Kellogg Mountain is a very rugged area, covered with Mountain Laurel higher than my head in most places. I told Harold that we should split up and search the area for the dead bear. I was sure that it couldn’t be too far away, and we could still place a few snares around the body.
Harold was a little apprehensive about walking through the thick stand of Mountain Laurel, in search of a dead bear that was guarded by a live bear. I tried to assure him that the live bear would simply run away if we got too close.
After searching (separately) for almost a half hour, I heard Harold give out a blood curdling scream. My heart began beating rapidly, and I headed toward the direction of his scream, while calling out his name and asking if he was okay. There was no answer. Finally, I found Harold sitting on a large rock, in the middle of a Mountain Laurel stand, with his head cradled in his hands, and he was laughing.
I asked him what had happened, and he replied, “I kept thinking about that bear, and when I stepped up on this rock, a turkey busted out of the laurel bush in front of me. I thought it was a bear and that he had me for sure.”
Well, we never did find the dead bear, which meant that we couldn’t document the fact that a bear killed another bear in the wild; however, we were able to prove that Harold had a very strong heart.
During my 34 years as a wildlife officer, I had many experiences with the black bear but none were as exciting as the day we looked for the killer bear on Kellogg Mountain.