Bear necessity
He was young and wild, showing off for the paparazzi in downtown Orlando and causing a stir as perhaps the only adolescent male in the city to refuse a tasty pile of doughnuts. Countless local residents tagged him on Facebook, Twitter and other platforms.
But the juvenile bear who spent three days tree-hopping in Lake Eola Park finally succumbed to the lure of pastry after wildlife officers added syrup, and his teenage dream of an influencer career ended with the snap of a trap door closing.
As the Sentinel’s Jeff Weiner reported, the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission plans to release him safely in the Ocala National Forest and, presumably, into the humdrum life of doing whatever it is that bears do in the woods.
That’s where he belongs. But the ultimate plot twist of his brief brush with fame is that he really isn’t that unusual. A map listing hundreds of bear sightings over the past five years on the FWC website reveals that bears go pretty much everywhere.
The same goes for other once-shy wildlife. It was once a rare wonder to glimpse sandhill cranes engaged in their graceful, leggy mating dances; now they get their groove on in the parking lots of Hobby Lobbies. And it’s not uncommon to be confronted by gangs of cute but vaguely menacing raccoons.
Nice hamburger you got there. Be a shame if something happened to it.
This may not be the way things should be. But it’s the way things are, and humans have to learn to live with it.
Like the 1,000 new humans that arrive in Florida each day, many species of wildlife have developed a taste for the Margaritaville suburbs and have begun to move into downtowns across the state.
Part of that is necessity. Efforts to conserve habitat are racing against new, sprawling developments to accommodate those people. But when land is cleared for new growth, it can leave wildlife with nowhere to go. So it stays put—and learns that co-existence with humans has its perks, including overflowing garbage can buffets and backyard swimming pools that beckon frogs, snakes and the occasional alligator.
In some cases—such as the astonishing adaptation of wood storks—rapidly evolving to thrive in human-dominated spaces may have led to some species’ survival. But co-existence isn’t always peaceful. Too many wild animals become roadkill. Others succumb to diseases, become prey for domesticated cats and dogs, or suffer from poor nutrition.
Environmental officials are becoming more skilled at managing wildlife in human-inhabited areas, and we doubt we’ll see a return of measures such as 2015’s disastrous plan to curb bear populations with a statewide hunt.
But all Floridians should remember that the wildlife was here first. Protective measures, such as garbage cans with locking lids and careful driving in areas where wildlife is commonly spotted, can help minimize the danger. But it’s only part of a greater responsibility of conservation, including a renewed commitment to fight the careless sprawl into areas that should be protected.