A week later, Dr. Albert W. Erickson came over from the University of Minnesota to collect milk and blood samples from lactating mother black bears. 
I would be working with the world pioneer of black bear field research. “Doc,” as I came to call him, had pioneered live capture methods at Cusino Station 12 years earlier. He was energetic, lean, and personable. I never thought to ask what his middle initial stood for, but an old co-worker told me they called him Al “Wildman” Erickson. I kept that in mind.
Things started out calmly enough as we checked dumps for lactating females and darted bears that might fit the bill. His capture methods were similar to El’s except that he didn’t chase darted bears. After firing a dart, he stood still. “If we don’t move, they won’t associate the dart with us, and they won’t make us haul the equipment as far.” His calm approach worked. Darted bears usually ran to the edge of the woods, stopped, and often started back to the dump before the drug took effect. When bears became tranquilized, Doc showed me how to take blood and milk samples. Back at the Experiment Station, he showed me how to process the samples for use by his colleagues at the University of Minnesota. He didn’t seem like a “Wildman.”
Then one moonlit night things got a little out of hand and he showed me capture techniques I hadn’t seen before. We darted a bear and watched it move off through an open forest. The bear passed a charred stump and disappeared. Our eyes fixed on the stump thinking it was the bear. Many minutes later, we realized our mistake and moved in. By then, the darted bear was getting up. Doc tried to scare it up a tree. The bear lunged at Doc. Doc lunged back. The bear turned toward me. I did what Doc did. An onlooker joined in, and the bear scrambled ten feet up the tree. Doc swished the bear’s behind with a sapling to keep it up there while I filled a syringe, put it on a stick, and jabbed the dark mass of its rump. In a couple minutes, the bear descended. We thought it was drugged, so we grabbed it, but it started to run. Doc leaped on, straddling the bear and grabbing the fur on each side of its head. The bear twisted to bite one leg and then the other, but Doc steered its head away each time. I gave a booster shot in a muscle by hand, and the bear soon ceased struggling.
I had seen the “Wildman” in action. I wondered if I’d ever have to use his techniques myself. The summer was fast coming to an end. I wished I could continue. No intern had ever been allowed to return a second summer. Then I learned that my work with bears was going to get a major boost and extension.
Bear research was in its infancy back then, despite the ear-tagging studies of Doc, El, and a few others. Most aspects of black bear life were poorly known, so I probably should be sorry for pestering El and Doc with questions they couldn’t answer. However, I will be eternally grateful for one of Doc’s answers, “Lynn, I don’t know, but what would you think about being my graduate student at the University of Minnesota and seeing what you can discover yourself?”
Back to the present: the first Black Bear Field Course starts tomorrow. Today was major house cleaning with Team Forward here spotting things needing to be done while I sat at my computer working feverishly to get on top of things before tomorrow. Bears came and went, but I could hardly look, counting on Team Forward to cover things. Meanwhile, Scott fixed the van that now has over 258,000 miles on it. He keeps it going.
I’m thankful over and over.
Thank you all for all you do.
Lynn Rogers, Biologist, Wildlife Research Institute and North American Bear Center