scientists. Such a death sets our study back years.”
The North American Bear Center was familiar to me. Last year, a live online camera was placed in a den, letting viewers watch a hibernating bear give birth. The website had gone viral with Internet hits and the cub had become a cyberdarling.
“Is it possible that it’s hard to see the ribbons in dim light or deep brush?” the newspaper outdoors reporter asked. “Do we need to give hunters some slack here?”
The woman shook her head. “By law, deer hunters in the southern part of the state are required to count the points on a buck’s antlers before firing. This is much simpler.”
She shook the ribbons again. Close up, I could see they were made of fluorescent duct tape, well suited to survive north woods winters.
“Also,” Teresa continued, “most bear-hunting parties use baitto attract their prey, giving them ample opportunity to see the bears before pulling a trigger or releasing an arrow.”
She described how the bear center was dedicated to clearing up misconceptions regarding scientific facts about bears.
“People are the number one cause of death of black bears, yet our bear center is not opposed to hunting. In fact, our work helps manage bear populations. And hunters benefit from that data. But there are more than twenty thousand black bears in Minnesota. Surely we can spare a dozen.”
The closest I’d ever been to hunting animals was flushing pheasants out of cornfields as a child so my dad could shoot them. So while I’m not opposed to the sport, it made sense that the killing of these tagged bears should end.
“What is your next move?” I asked. “What do you hope to accomplish here today?”
“We’ve asked state wildlife officials for their support, but failed to get it,” Teresa said. “Now I’m asking the citizens of Minnesota to implore their lawmakers to make killing research bears illegal.”
All in all, her speech seemed like fine campaign rhetoric. I wondered why state wildlife officials rejected her proposal. So after the news conference ended, I drove about a mile to the Department of Natural Resources headquarters to find out.
I’m not a particularly outdoorsy news type, so the last time I’d spoken with the DNR was a year earlier after a burglary in one of their storage buildings. The break-in wouldn’t have attracted any attention except the thieves stole twenty animal head mounts from a traveling Wall of Shame display designed to encourage the public to report poachers. The haul included trophy bucks, a large walleye, turkey tail feathers, even a bear head.
Their communications director, Zach Loecher, was miffed when he heard about the crusade at the Capitol minutes earlier. “This is an issue with a lot of public emotion behind it. Not nearly as clear cut as the bear center is making it seem.” Then hewondered out loud why no other media were pressing him for answers.
“My guess is Channel 3 must be the only one that cares about getting both sides of the story,” I said.
But it actually crossed my mind that the other reporters might be dismissing the event as nonnews. The dead-bear tale fell into the category of discretionary news. It certainly wasn’t mandatory for coverage, except on a real slow news day. So the other newsrooms in town could be passing, simply phoning the DNR for a comment to include in the story tag, or have a much better story Channel 3 was missing.
But hunting research bears certainly could be made into an interesting issue story. That’s what I was hoping for, so I wanted to interview Loecher on camera before it occurred to him that keeping quiet might make his problem go away.
He got back to the matter concerning the bear center. “It isn’t that they love bears and we hate them. Our agency has to deal with a bigger picture.”
“I have no doubt Mother Nature can be complicated,” I said. “Let’s put you on camera to make sure we get it right.”
Loecher’s office
The North American Bear Center was familiar to me. Last year, a live online camera was placed in a den, letting viewers watch a hibernating bear give birth. The website had gone viral with Internet hits and the cub had become a cyberdarling.
“Is it possible that it’s hard to see the ribbons in dim light or deep brush?” the newspaper outdoors reporter asked. “Do we need to give hunters some slack here?”
The woman shook her head. “By law, deer hunters in the southern part of the state are required to count the points on a buck’s antlers before firing. This is much simpler.”
She shook the ribbons again. Close up, I could see they were made of fluorescent duct tape, well suited to survive north woods winters.
“Also,” Teresa continued, “most bear-hunting parties use baitto attract their prey, giving them ample opportunity to see the bears before pulling a trigger or releasing an arrow.”
She described how the bear center was dedicated to clearing up misconceptions regarding scientific facts about bears.
“People are the number one cause of death of black bears, yet our bear center is not opposed to hunting. In fact, our work helps manage bear populations. And hunters benefit from that data. But there are more than twenty thousand black bears in Minnesota. Surely we can spare a dozen.”
The closest I’d ever been to hunting animals was flushing pheasants out of cornfields as a child so my dad could shoot them. So while I’m not opposed to the sport, it made sense that the killing of these tagged bears should end.
“What is your next move?” I asked. “What do you hope to accomplish here today?”
“We’ve asked state wildlife officials for their support, but failed to get it,” Teresa said. “Now I’m asking the citizens of Minnesota to implore their lawmakers to make killing research bears illegal.”
All in all, her speech seemed like fine campaign rhetoric. I wondered why state wildlife officials rejected her proposal. So after the news conference ended, I drove about a mile to the Department of Natural Resources headquarters to find out.
I’m not a particularly outdoorsy news type, so the last time I’d spoken with the DNR was a year earlier after a burglary in one of their storage buildings. The break-in wouldn’t have attracted any attention except the thieves stole twenty animal head mounts from a traveling Wall of Shame display designed to encourage the public to report poachers. The haul included trophy bucks, a large walleye, turkey tail feathers, even a bear head.
Their communications director, Zach Loecher, was miffed when he heard about the crusade at the Capitol minutes earlier. “This is an issue with a lot of public emotion behind it. Not nearly as clear cut as the bear center is making it seem.” Then hewondered out loud why no other media were pressing him for answers.
“My guess is Channel 3 must be the only one that cares about getting both sides of the story,” I said.
But it actually crossed my mind that the other reporters might be dismissing the event as nonnews. The dead-bear tale fell into the category of discretionary news. It certainly wasn’t mandatory for coverage, except on a real slow news day. So the other newsrooms in town could be passing, simply phoning the DNR for a comment to include in the story tag, or have a much better story Channel 3 was missing.
But hunting research bears certainly could be made into an interesting issue story. That’s what I was hoping for, so I wanted to interview Loecher on camera before it occurred to him that keeping quiet might make his problem go away.
He got back to the matter concerning the bear center. “It isn’t that they love bears and we hate them. Our agency has to deal with a bigger picture.”
“I have no doubt Mother Nature can be complicated,” I said. “Let’s put you on camera to make sure we get it right.”
Loecher’s office
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