Bears, Wolves, and Cougars

Last September, as we were hiking down a mountain trail in the Pacific Northwest, my husband suddenly stopped and put a finger to his lips, indicating we shouldn’t talk. The underbrush was lush, still verdant green with hints of the autumn color to come –tinges of gold and crimson red. I couldn’t see anything, so I gingerly glided to where he stood. Was it a grouse? No, it wasn’t a grouse but a mama brown bear with her cinnamon cub less than thirty feet away. Mama was ambling up the trail, her cub close to her heels. She had seen us but had no intention of stopping and didn’t seem stressed or agitated. We quickly turned around and started to climb back from where we came. The bears kept coming. We kept hiking, too.

My husband whispered. “Let’s get to that small river we passed. There’s a log bridge. I doubt they’ll cross there.”

We waited on the bridge only a few minutes before the bears wandered off the trail and onto the riverbank, all the while watching us. They looked so healthy—mama with her gleaming brown-black fur, the little one with grass and old berries sticking out of its mouth. I could see the mama’s claws, as long as my hand.

With the decreasing bear population in the northwest due to hunting and habitat loss, it felt extraordinary to have witnessed such a sight. I tried to take a few photos of the mama with her baby, but they scrambled up the adjacent slope and vanished into the forest before I could adjust my camera.

Wild animals hold a special place in my heart. They represent forces beyond human control, that connection to untamed wilderness, evoking a sense of awe and wonder. I grew up hearing wolf packs howling in the distance but rarely saw them up close. In Alaska, I saw a wolf pack running on the other side of a raging river in hot pursuit of some prey. I needed binoculars to see them well and focus on the color of their fur or the differences between them. Little tingles went up and down my spine as I watched them hunt.

Several years ago, I encountered a cougar hovering over a deer kill on a mountain trail. It was January, and the temperature hovered around 0 Fahrenheit. I’d been snowshoeing after a recent snowfall and had stayed out longer than intended. The light had just begun to fade when we rounded a switchback and, to our amazement, the cougar. It sat beside the dead deer, perfectly still watching our every move. My friend mimed to back up and head down the slope by a different route. She couldn’t wait to get out of there, but I was transfixed by the cougar’s eyes—big, round, golden, powerful. It didn’t blink. I’ve yet to face anything as magnificent or imposing as those moments holding that mountain lion’s stare.

Seeing a mountain lion, let alone next to a kill, is a rare and unexpected event. They are elusive and, like most wild animals, don’t particularly care for humans.

A recent 2024 study shows that global wildlife populations have declined by 73% since 1970. Washington state has approximately 10 – 20 grizzly bears, 260 wolves, and 3,000 cougars. By contrast, in 2023, there were 260 human births globally per minute, 4.5 births every second. The global human population has surpassed 8 billion, and as it grows, so will its need for resources and habitat. I wonder what the wildlife population will look like 50 years from now. I won’t be around, but I sincerely hope there will be wild lands for wildlife to grow alongside us and that someone you love can still experience moments of awe and wonder.

“The mountains are calling, and I must go.” John Muir

Enjoy the Passage of Time.

Sharon

© 2025. Sharon Kreider. All Rights Reserved.