When my son Spencer was just a few months old, he spiked a mysterious fever. Being the well-informed new mother that I was I knew the fever represented something catastrophic. Of course, these things only happen in the middle of the night and on weekends so my husband, being the absolutely clueless new dad that he was, suggested a wait and see approach. I, on the other hand, knew the only rational approach was a medi vac transport to the nearest trauma unit. We compromised with a trip to the after hours clinic. After a long sleepless night, we were sent home with instructions to keep an eye on him and follow up with our pediatrician on Monday. With his very best “I told you so” face my husband handed me the paperwork where the doctor had clearly written under diagnosis the word “Reassurance.”

That was nearly 15 years ago and still every time I am prone to “overreact” I am (not so) gently reminded of that reassurance diagnosis. Still, old habits die hard so when I suggested my husband call the campground and inquire about wildlife (specifically bears) before our summer camping trip to Black Rock Mountain State Park in Georgia, I was absolutely seeking reassurance. Word came back from the husband that he was assured while there were bears in the area they hadn’t had any sightings in the campground. Ahh, how reassuring. Which is why upon arrival when I inquired a second time about wildlife and the ranger responded Black Bears, Bobcats, and Raccoons and then gave me that stern park rangery look like she just knows before the week is out she’s going to be sifting through bear scat for my dental remains. I was not feeling very reassured.

After strategically searching for a site least likely to be invaded by bears we settled on the perfect spot flanked by a bathhouse to one side and larger campers surrounding all other sides. Per the Rangers instructions we stored food and anything with a scent in the vehicle. Unfortunately, the ranger was not clear about where to store two teenage boys and trust me they do not have an “unscented” version.

Having not been immediately mauled to death and noticing no one else in the campground seemed alarmed I began to relax, a bit. Still, though, I do like my reassurance so I started chatting up our neighbors. The couple to the left hadn’t seen any wildlife and after the first night stopped storing items in their vehicle. Encouraged, I continued to the nice old guy in the camper parked in front of us. Turns out they meet the kids and grandkids at Black Rock every year. Jackpot, surely this wise grandpa wouldn’t bring his entire family to the campground infested with bears. Reassurance to commence in 4, 3, 2…

Not so fast. Again I ask about wildlife in the area when Grandpa takes a big belly laugh and says “Funny, story…” and proceeds to tell me about how his wife loves to cook pots and pots of boiled peanuts…

I need to pause for just a moment, for my northern friends boiled peanuts are raw peanuts soaked and then boiled for several hours in salt and water. They are often referred to as the caviar of the south sometimes eaten with hot sauce and generally best when purchased from a roadside vendor along a desolate highway in backwoods nowheresville. If you haven’t tried them, your life is incomplete.

Okay back to the story… Grandma has her pots of boiled peanuts outside the camper and Grandpa is woken up in the middle of the night by a loud noise he opens the camper door and wouldn’t you know it a big black bear is just sitting there eating Grandmas peanuts. Oh, that’s so funny a real knee-slapper, right? Oh, right here as he motions from the bathhouse directly through our campground to his door, this is here is the “bear trail”. Then he Giggles and admits that yeah his wife probably should stop making the peanuts and leaving them outside but darn it she just loves them so much. My eyes landing on the giant pot of boiled peanuts sitting by their front door and I wasn’t feeling anything like reassurance.

After a brief panic. That’s not true, it was a long drawn out panic. I googled “how to survive a black bear attack” and “statistics on recent attacks including fatal versus nonfatal”. Did you know that some recommend shouting “Hey, Bear!” loudly over and over to scare them away. That seems foolhardy to me. Why would I say hello to anything that wishes to make me its dinner? Seems like “I have a high-powered rifle and an NRA membership.” Or, “Look, boiled peanuts over there.” would be more effective.

While I never found any real reassurance I also never found any Bears, Bobcats, or other wildlife. In fact, the scariest thing we encountered were the campground showers.

As it turns out, reassurance isn’t all it is cracked up to be. What is assuring to one may illicit shear panic in another and when you do find it most of the time it is merely a placebo.

My assurances came in the form of information. Taking the time to better understand my surroundings quelled the panic and gave me all the comfort I needed.

The Real Danger

Humans are the real danger. When garbage and food are not stored properly, bears view it as a food source which can lead to dangerous encounters between bears and humans and some cases lead to the animals being destroyed by wildlife officials. According to the Georgia Department of Natural Resources Wildlife Resource Division, Georgia is home to 5,100 Black Bears. There are no recorded bear attacks on humans in Georgia and no fatalities.

Now, that’s reassuring.

Until next time, happy camping.

 

Dylan’s bear strategy was to “blend in with the locals”.

  This is exactly why we camp. Bears and all.
 Spencer sketching the scenery.

Camping, family travel, travel adventures, outdoors, Georgia mountains, black bears, Georgia State Parks, Black Rock Mountain State Park