Suburban Black Bear Attack: An After-Action Report
Jordan J. 05.03.24
Screams in the Night
My phone buzzed shortly after 11 pm.
“Get outside!” came my neighbors voice as I answered. “Something’s wrong with your goats.”
I rushed outside into the cool darkness of an October evening and instantly heard shrieking, agonized cries from our goat pen.
I sprinted toward the goat pen, shouting to ward off whatever was terrorizing the goats in the darkness. I had nothing but the flashlight on my cellphone. My neighbor joined me, and together we ran into the pen. What awaited us there kicked off a 7-hour ordeal of blood, guns, farmyard tragedy, and rookie mistakes.
Background
We live in a quiet, suburban neighborhood in the north-east US. Our property backs up to 20 acres of conservation land, so when you’re not looking towards the street, it’s easy to imagine you’re in the country, not the suburbs. However, there are houses everywhere, and more pertinently, dogs everywhere. At one time, we counted 20 dogs just on our block. There’s plenty of wildlife, but mostly of the squirrel and racoon variety. Except for the deer that know to seek the safety of suburban woodlots during hunting season, it’s rare to see larger animals. I’ve never seen a coyote. While there have been occasional bear sightings, these were far and few in between.
A year earlier, we purchased a pair of Toggenburg doelings — beautiful twin sisters who were friendly and good-natured. With their brown color, they sometimes looked like pet deer from a distance as they browsed around the woods and rocks behind our house. We named them Latte and Leche. We had them penned in with 5 feet of stock fencing, but no electric wire on top.
Mistake #1: No electric fencing or predator deterrents.
In the safety of a populated suburb, it seemed unlikely that anything big enough to kill them would come around — except maybe one of the neighborhood dogs.
On one occasion, a neighborhood dog did come onto our property and badly scared the goats, but didn’t get into their pen.
Because of all this, when I rushed out into the night and heard the goats screaming, my initial thought was that one of the neighborhood dogs must have escaped and gotten at them.
Mistake #2: Responding to a potentially dangerous situation without a firearm and good flashlight.
Blood In the Dirt
My neighbor and I rushed into the pen, where one of the goats (Leche) was sprinting in hysterical circles, while her sister (Latte) flopped and foundered on the ground, spurts of blood coming out of her neck and staining her hide and the ground. We rushed up to her and stabilized her.
Mistake #3: Not securing the scene.
Latte had two gashes at the base of her spine where her neck joined her back. She was alert and mobile, but had no control of her back legs. The gashes on her neck didn’t look too bad, so we searched her legs for signs of injury, but found none. Eventually, we would come to the conclusion that her spine had been severed or damaged at the neck.
By now, several more neighbors, and my wife had arrived. I left them with the goat and went back in to get medical supplies.
I got a better flashlight, a headlamp, our trauma bag, and this time, I grabbed a handgun. I chose a .22 revolver. I was still thinking of neighborhood dogs, and I was already suspecting I’d need to put the goat down later. My S&W Model 63 seemed (at the time) to be the right choice for both of these tasks.
I got back outside, and started packing the wound on Latte’s neck with gauze, effectively stopping the bleeding.
Some time during administering first aid, I looked up towards the woods — now with my headlamp on.
My light reflected off two green-glowing eyes not ten yards away.
Glowing Eyes
Whatever was up on our hill was just watching us, just a few paces away, waiting for us to leave so it could finish its meal. I grabbed my neighbor and we rushed at it, trying to shine a light on it and see what it was. I was still thinking it was neighborhood dog. It had briefly occurred to me to shoot at the eyes, but I know my firearm safety rules, and you don’t shoot at anything unless you’re “sure of your target, and what’s beyond.” There was no safe shot, because I didn’t know what the thing was, and there was now a group of people milling around the goat pen.
Instead, my neighbor and I chased after the unknown creature. It crashed through the woods ahead of us, and we didn’t see it. After a short, futile pursuit, we returned to the goat.
Tough Choices
We tried to make Latte comfortable, but she was in a lot of pain. We briefly talked to our vet, and he advised putting her down. I sent everyone away and spent the last few minutes with her. I put out grain for her, and she enthusiastically gobbled it up in a brief return to her characteristic nature. As she ate the grain, I put a subsonic .22 round in the back of her head and immediately slit her throat. It was one of my cleanest kills ever, and I was thankful for the chance to end her suffering.
Things seemed to be winding down after that. The surviving sister was locked in her shed, and the neighbors gave us their condolences and headed off. We still didn’t know what had attacked.
I buried Latte in the corner of our lot. It was about 12:30 AM now.
I was worried that Leche, the surviving sister would not be safe.
Midnight Patrol
I went back into the house, got my Remington 870 shotgun (set up in a tactical configuration like the one below) and decided to give the woods a patrol before going to bed.
With buckshot on tap and Streamlight shining, I walked through the 20 acres behind our house to make sure the attacker was gone. After about 30 minutes of wandering, I returned, feeling satisfied that we’d chased it off with our noise and human scents.
I turned back and swept the tree line with my weapon light one more time.
Glowing eyes returned my gaze, again, not ten yards away, right in the woods I’d just exited.
I instantly shouldered my shotgun and aimed. There was a flurry of motion and the eyes vanished.
Mistake #4: Not taking the shot? I relive that moment many times. On the one hand, there are many reasons I’m glad I had the self control not to take the shot. Again, I was not “sure of my target or what was beyond.” It was not any kind of hunting season, so if I killed a wild animal, I’d have to figure out what to do from a Fish and Game perspective. And, if it was a neighborhood dog, I’d have to deal with those ramifications as well. It’s probably a good thing I didn’t take the shot. However, part of me wishes I’d gotten Western-style justice for Latte’s death, and if the bear had come back and killed again, I would have felt responsible for not stopping it when I had the chance.
The Bear Truth
As soon as the creature turned and I realized I didn’t have a shot anymore I rushed after it. We sprinted through the woods, whatever it was crashing ahead of me. There was an open clearing between massive pines, and I swung my light into the space, illuminating a broad swath of forest. There, ahead of me, was Ursus Americanus. He or she had both of its paws around the trunk of a pine and was looking back at me.
Then it simply vanished. Up? Away? Who knows. I stalked around a little more, shotgun at the ready and saw nothing.
The Long Night
I realized now that the bear had gotten a taste of goat blood and meat, but hadn’t swallowed a single mouthful. He was hungry and had been denied his meal. I felt he would certainly return. “They’ll go back inside eventually. Then I can finish my meal. I’ll wait,” He seemed to be saying.
Photo Credit: Wikimedia Commons
I went back to where Leche paced inside her goat shed and locked myself in with her. There’s an opening in the side of the shed facing the woods, and I decided to repurpose this as a loophole.
I waited, shotgun ready, all night.
The bear never came back.
Aftermath and Final Thoughts
In the morning, we found some massive bear droppings on our yard — literally as if the bear was trying to taunt us by defecating on our doorstep.
We knew we couldn’t keep Leche there anymore, since the bear would likely come back again. Besides, she was distraught without her sister. We found her a new home with new friends. I checked my cameras and never did see any images of the bear. Maybe it knew where they were, or maybe they were just pointed in the wrong direction.
To recap, here’s some mistakes I made that hopefully my readers can learn from:
- If you have animals, use electric fencing. It’s one of the best ways to keep predators out — especially predators that climb.
- Have a flashlight and firearm handy, and always grab them before responding to any potentially dangerous situation.
- When arriving on the scene of an attack or any crisis, always secure the scene before treating victims or taking care of the situation. This is good advice for any crisis, whether criminal or accidental in nature.
- Take/Don’t take the shot? Nobody knows the right answer. That’s the weighty responsibility of being a gun owner. You have to decide for yourself, and every trigger pull carries its own tragic risks and triumphant rewards.
In closing, there’s a few things I did feel good about, despite my mistakes:
- I have a sense of righteous satisfaction that the bear never got any goat meat. He went through all that trouble, risked exposing himself, got so close, but went away emptyhanded. Take that, bear.
- I felt that I was able to make Latte’s final moments as comfortable as possible. She definitely sensed our protection and care, and I’m thankful I was able to give her a swift, clean death.
- Chasing a hungry bear in the woods at night is probably a very stupid thing to do, and I probably should list this among the mistakes. However, I’m kinda proud that I did, and that I had no fear in that moment. It was definitely exciting, facing off with a creature that was physically capable of killing me and scaring it off. For the purposes of responsible journalism, I must once again remind my readers to carefully weigh these risks for themselves before trying this at home.
