Alaska Bear Tales By Larry Kaniut Pub. 1990 / 285pp Paperback "COME QUICK! I’M BEING EATEN BY A BEAR!" "Bears usually will kill humans only when surprised or super hungry." (Captain Robert Penman, Alaska Department of Public Safety, personal interview, Anchorage, February 1977) I first heard about Cynthia Dusel-Bacon over a local radio newscast August 13, 1977. She had been frightfully mauled by a bear while working for the United States Geological Survey somewhere up north, around Fairbanks. My interest in her experience led me to write her at the University of Stanford Medical Center. This courageous lady sent me a tape with her story. She was more than eager to offer her experience in hopes of helping others avoid a similar situation, and she wrote in her letter (typed while holding a stylus between her jaws), "I couldn't be more pleased about your efforts to amass all available information about bear maulings in Alaska. I can't think of a greater contribution one could make to educate people about the potential danger of a bear encounter. I believe very strongly in what you are doing." A short time later I received her tape and her story.     "The summer of 1977 was my third summer in the Yukon-Tanana Upland of Alaska, doing geologic field mapping for the Alaskan Geology Branch of the U.S. Geological Survey. I began working for the survey in the summer of 1975, making helicopter-assisted traverses in the highest terrain of the 6,000-square-mile Big Delta quadrangle. The second summer, as our budget did not provide for helicopter expenses, the project chief and I found it necessary to map the geology by backpacking, usually a week at a time. Last summer we were again funded for helicopter transport after an initial month of backpacking. All five geologists in our group, after being transported by air to the field area, usually mapped alone. I personally felt quite comfortable.     "Every summer in the upland area we saw bears. The first one I saw was walking slowly along on the far side of a small mountain meadow, and I froze. It didn't see me and disappeared into the forest. Another time I was walking through a spruce forest and saw a black bear moving through the trees some distance away. Again I was apparently not noticed. The second summer while I was backpacking, I encountered a small black bear coming along the trail toward me. I had been busy looking down at the ground for chips of rock, when I heard a slight rustling sound. I looked up to see the bear about 40 feet in front of me. Startled, it turned around and ran off in the other direction, crashing through the brush as it left the trail. This particular experience reassured me that what I had heard about black bears being afraid of people was, in fact, true. I See My First Grizzly     "During my third summer, I saw my first grizzly, but only from the air while traveling in the helicopter. Although other members of our field party had seen them on the ground, I felt myself fortunate to have encountered only black bears. Grizzlies were generally considered to be more unpredictable and dangerous.     "All three summers I had hiked through the bush unarmed, as it was the belief of our project chief that guns added more danger to an encounter than they might prevent. A wounded, angry bear would probably be more dangerous than a frightened one. She had therefore strongly discouraged us from carrying any kind of firearm. We all carried walkie-talkie radios so as to keep in constant touch with one another and with our base camp. And we were warned against surprising bears or getting between a mother and her cubs. Whenever I was doing field mapping, I always attempted to make noise as I walked so that I would alert any bears within hearing and give them time to run away from me. For two summers this system worked perfectly.     "Last summer we were scheduled to complete the reconnaissance mapping of the Big Delta quadrangle. Since it covers such a vast area, we needed helicopter transportation in order to finish traversing all the ridges by mid-September.     "At about 8:00 A.M. of August 13, 1977, Ed Spencer, our helicopter pilot, dropped me off near the top of a rocky, brush-covered ridge approximately 60 miles southeast of Fairbanks. I was dressed in khaki work pants and a cotton shirt, wore sturdy hiking boots, and carried a rucksack. In the right-hand outside pocket of my pack l carried a light lunch of baked beans, canned fruit, fruit juice, and a few pilot crackers. My walkie-talkie radio was stashed in the left-hand outside pocket, complete with covering flap, strap and buckle. I was to take notes on the geology and collect samples by means of the geologist's hammer I carried on my belt, record my location on the map, and stow the samples in my rucksack.     "Standard safety procedure involved my making radio contact with the other geologists and with our base camp several times during the day, at regular intervals. The radio in camp, about 80 miles south of the mapping area, was being monitored by the wife of the helicopter pilot. Plans called for me to be picked up by helicopter at the base of the eight-mile-long ridge on a designated gravel bar of the river at the end of the day. A Nice Narrow Trail     "After noticing, with unexpected pleasure, that I was going to be able to use a narrow trail that had been bulldozed along the crest of the ridge, I started off downhill easily, on the trail that passed through tangles of birch brush and over rough, rocky slides. The ridge was in one of the more populated parts of the quadrangle, as there are a few small cabins about 15 or 20 miles downstream along the Salcha River, and a short landing strip for airplanes about 10 miles from the ridge. Fishermen occasionally come this far up the river, too, so the bears in the area have probably seen human beings occasionally. This particular morning I wasn't expecting to see bears at all; the hillside was so rocky, so dry looking and tangled with brush, it just didn't seem like bear country. If I were to see a bear that day, it would more likely be at the end of the day, down along the river bar and adjoining woods.     "I descended the ridge slowly for several hundred yards, moving from one outcrop of rock to another, chipping off samples and stowing them in my pack. I stopped at one large outcrop to break off an interesting piece and examined it intently. A sudden loud crash in the undergrowth below startled me and I looked around just in time to see a black bear rise up out of the brush about 10 feet away. My first thought was 'Oh no! a bear. I'd better do the right thing.' My next thought was one of relief: 'It's only a black bear, and a rather small one at that.' Nevertheless, l decided to get the upper hand immediately and scare it away. I shouted at it, face-to-face, in my most commanding tone of voice: 'Shoo! Get out of here, bear! Go on! Get away!' The bear remained motionless and glared back. I clapped my hands and yelled even louder. Even this had no effect on the bear.     "Instead of turning and running away into the brush, it began slowly walking, climbing toward my level, watching me stealthily. I waved my arms, clapped, yelled even more wildly. I began banging on the outcrop with my hammer, making all the noise I could to intimidate this bear that was just not acting like a black bear is supposed to. I took a step back, managing to elevate myself another foot or so in an attempt to reach a more dominant position. But as I did this, the bear darted suddenly around behind the outcrop, behind me.     "My sensation was that of being struck a staggering blow from behind. I felt myself being thrown forward and landed face down on the ground, with my arms outstretched. I froze, not instinctively but deliberately, remembering that playing dead was supposed to cause an attacking bear to lose interest and go away.     "Instead of hearing the bear crashing off through the brush though, I felt the sudden piercing pain of the bear's teeth biting deep into my right shoulder. I felt myself being shaken with tremendous, irresistible power by my shoulder, by teeth deep in my shoulder. Then it stopped, and seemed to be waiting to see if I were still alive. I Tried For My Radio     "I tried to lie perfectly still, hoping it was satisfied. 'I've got to get at my radio in the pack, I've got to get a call out,' I thought. My left arm was free so I tried to reach behind myself to the left outside pocket of my rucksack to get at the walkie-talkie. The strap was buckled so tightly I realized I couldn't get the pocket open without taking off my pack. My movement caused the bear to start a new flurry of biting and tearing at the flesh of my upper right arm again. I was completely conscious of feeling my flesh torn, teeth against bone, but the sensation was more of numb horror at what was happening to me than of specific reaction to each bite. I remember thinking, 'Now I'm never going to be able to call for help. I'm dead unless this bear decides to leave me alone.'     "The bear had no intention of leaving me alone. After chewing on my right shoulder, arm, and side repeatedly, the bear began to bite my head and tear at my scalp. As I heard the horrible crunching sound of the bear's teeth biting into my skull, I realized it was all too hopeless. I remember thinking, 'This has got to be the worst way to go.' I knew it would be a slow death because my vital signs were all still strong. My fate was to bleed to death. I thought, 'Maybe I should just shake my head and get the bear to do me in quickly.'     "All of a sudden, the bear clamped its jaws into me and began dragging me by the right arm down the slope through the brush. 1 was dragged about 20 feet or so before the bear stopped as if to rest, panting in my ear. It began licking at the blood that was by now running out of a large wound under my right arm. Again the bear pulled me along the ground, over rocks and through brush, stopping frequently to rest, and chewing at my arm. Finally it stopped, panting heavily. It had been dragging me and my 20-pound pack -- a combined weight of about 150 pounds -- for almost a half-hour. Now it walked about four feet away and sat down to rest, still watching me intently.     "Here, I thought, might be a chance to save myself yet -- if only I could get at that radio. Slowly I moved my left arm, which was on the side away from the bear, and which was still undamaged, behind me to get at that pack buckle. But this time the pocket, instead of being latched tight, was wide open -- the buckle probably tore off from the bear's clawing or the dragging over the rocks. I managed to reach down into the pocket and pull out the radio. Come Quick! I'm Being Eaten By A Bear     "Since my right arm was now completely numb and useless, I used my left hand to stealthily snap on the radio switch, pull up two of the three segments of the antenna, and push in the button activating the transmitter. Holding the radio close to my mouth, I said as loudly as I dared, 'Ed, this is Cynthia. Come quick, I'm being eaten by a bear.' I said 'eaten' because I was convinced that the bear wasn't just mauling me or playing with me, but was planning to consume me. I was its prey and it bad no intention of letting the 'catch' escape.     "I repeated my message and then started to call out some more information, hoping that my first calls had been heard. 'Ed, I'm just down the hill from where you left me off this morning...' but I got no further. The bear by this time had risen to its feet; it hounded quickly over to me, and savagely attacked my left arm, knocking the radio out of my hand. I screamed in pain as I felt my good arm now being torn and mangled by claws and teeth.      "It was then I realized I had done all I could do to save my life. I had no way of knowing whether anyone had even heard my calls. I really doubted it, since no static or answering sound from someone trying to call back had come over the receiver. I knew I hadn't taken time to extend the antenna completely. I knew 1 was down in a ravine, with many ridges between me and the receiving set. 1 knew there was really no chance for me. I was doomed. So I screamed and yelled as the bear tore at my arm, figuring that it was going to eat me anyway and there was no longer any reason to try to control my natural reactions.     "I remember that the bear then began sniffing around my body, going down to my calves, up my thighs. I thought, 'I wonder if he's going to open up new wounds or continue working on the old ones.' I didn't dare to look around at what was happening -- my eyes were fixed upon the dirt and leaves on the ground only inches below my face. Then I felt a tearing at the pack on my back, and heard the bear begin crunching cans in its teeth -- cans I had brought for my lunch. This seemed to occupy its attention for a while; at least it let my arms alone and gave me a few moments to focus my mind on my predicament.     "'Is this how I'm going to go?' I remember marveling at how clear my mind was, how keen my senses were. All I could think of as 1 lay there on my stomach, with my face clown in the dry grass and dirt, and that merciless, blood-thirsty thing holding me down, was how much I wanted to live and how much I wanted to return to Charlie, my husband of five months, and how tragic it would be to end it all three days before I turned 31.     "It was about 10 minutes, I think, before I heard the faint sound of a helicopter in the distance. It came closer and then seemed to circle, as if making a pass, but not directly over me. Then I heard the helicopter going away, leaving me. What had gone wrong? Maybe it was just a routine pass to transfer one of the other geologists to a different ridge, or to go to a gas cache to refuel, and not an answer to my call for help. No one heard my call.     "The bear had not been frightened by the sound of the helicopter, for now having finished with the contents of my pack it began to tear again at the flesh under my right arm. Then I heard the helicopter coming back, circling, getting closer. Being flat on my face, with the remains of the pack still on my back, and both arms now completely without feeling, I kicked my legs to show whoever was up above me that I was still alive. This time, however, I was certain that I was to be rescued because the pilot hovered directly over me. Silence     "But again I heard the helicopter suddenly start away over the ridge. In a few seconds all was silence, agonizing silence. I couldn't believe it. For some completely senseless, heartless, stupid reason they'd left me for a second time.     "Suddenly I felt, or sensed, that the bear was not beside me. The sound of the chopper had undoubtedly frightened it away. Again I waited in silence for some 10 minutes. Then I heard the helicopter coming over the ridge again, fast and right over me. I kicked my legs again, and heard the helicopter move up toward the crest of the ridge for what I was now sure was a landing. Finally I heard the engine shut down, then voices, and people calling out.     "I yelled back and tried to direct them to where I was lying. But the birch brush was thick, and with my khaki work pants and gray pack I was probably difficult to see lying on the ground among the rocks. Ed was the first to spot me, and he called the two women geologists down the slope to help him. Together they managed to carry me up the hill and lift me up into the back seat of the helicopter.     "I remember the feeling of relief and thankfulness that swept over me when I found myself in that helicopter, going up and away over the mountain. I knew that my mind was clear and my breathing was good and my insides were all intact. All I had to do was keep cool and let the doctors fix me up. Deep down, though, I knew the extent of my injuries and knew that I had been too badly hurt for my body to ever be the same again.     "They flew me to Fort Greely, an army base in Delta Junction, about an hour's trip. There emergency measures were taken to stabilize my condition. I was given blood and probably some morphine to deaden the pain. An hour or so later I was flown to the army hospital in Fairbanks and taken immediately into surgery. For the first time that day I lost consciousness -- under the anesthesia. My left arm had to be amputated above the elbow, about halfway between elbow and shoulder, because most of the flesh had been torn from my forearm and elbow. To try to save my right arm, which had not been so badly chewed, the doctors took a vein out of my left thigh and grafted it from underneath my badly damaged right shoulder, through the torn upper arm, and out to my lower arm. This vein became an artery to keep the blood circulating through my forearm and hand. Four surgeons continued working on me for about five hours, late into the evening. They also did some 'debriding' -- that is, removing hopelessly damaged tissue and cleaning the lacerated wounds of leaves, sticks and dirt. l stayed at Fairbanks overnight and then at three o'clock Sunday afternoon was flown to San Francisco.     "By this time our branch chief had managed to notify my husband, Charlie (also a geologist for the U.S. Geological Survey), of my accident. They were waiting for me when I arrived at the San Francisco airport at one o'clock Monday morning. I was taken immediately by ambulance to Stanford Hospital and put in the intensive care ward. Another Amputation     "Then began the vain attempts to save my right arm. For more than a week I held every hope that the vein graft was going to work. But a blood clot developed in the mangled arm and circulation stopped. The pulse that had been felt in the right wrist and the warmth in my fingers disappeared and the whole arm became cold. Although another amputation was clearly going to be necessary, the doctors felt that they should wait until a clearer line of demarcation between good tissue and bad tissue became evident. Then they would amputate up to this point and save the rest.     "But before that line appeared, I began to run a very high temperature. Fearing that the infected and dying arm was now endangering my life, the doctors took me immediately into the operating room, found the tissue in my arm to be dead almost to the top of my shoulder, and removed the entire arm.     "As if this was not trouble enough, my side underneath the right shoulder had been opened up when the bear tore out and ate the lymph glands under my right arm. This area was raw and extremely susceptible to infection. It eventually would have to be covered by skin grafts, skin stripped from my own body. But before the skin graft could be done, new tissue would have to be regenerated in the wound to cover the exposed muscle and bone. I stayed for weeks in the hospital, absorbing nourishing fluids and antibiotics intravenously and eating high-protein meals of solid foods. Slowly, new flesh grew back to fill the hole, and the plastic surgeon was able to graft strips of skin taken from my upper right thigh to cover the raw flesh under my right shoulder. The thigh skin was laid on in strips like rolls of sod, kept clean and open to the air for many days, until it 'took.' Those operations hospitalized me for a total of six weeks. It Had Been August 13 "During my long days and weeks in bed I had lots of time to review my experience and ponder some of the questions that had puzzled me on that unlucky day of August 13. Why didn't I simply bleed to death after the bear had torn both my arms to shreds and chewed through the main arteries in each? My doctor explained that because I had been in excellent physical condition and my arteries were young and elastic, the blood vessels constricted and cut off the flow of blood very quickly after the flesh was mangled. Even the open ends of the arteries closed themselves off and kept me from losing all my blood, and my life.     "Had my call for help over the walkie-talkie really been picked up? Or was the helicopter merely making a routine run over the area when Ed spotted me on the ground? I learned later that my first call for help had been heard by the helicopter pilot's wife, Bev Spencer. She understood it clearly, and immediately radioed her husband that I was in trouble. She gave him what little information I had been able to transmit about my location, and he started right toward my ridge. He had also heard my call, but not clearly enough to be sure of the message. But why did he leave my ridge after he flew over me the first time? And where did he go?     "Actually, Ed hadn't been able to spot me from the air the first time, and realizing that he couldn't fly the helicopter and look for me at the same time, he decided to pick up another geologist first.     "The second time over he did spot the bear, and hence, me, from the air, but he also saw that the terrain was too rough for only two to get me up the ridge to a landing spot, so he flew back to pick up a third geologist from another area. Finally, with two assistants, he made his landing and led the successful search and rescue. I only wish I'd known why that helicopter kept leaving me again and again, though. I didn't need that additional mental torture. Why Was I Attacked?     "But why did the bear attack me in the first place? I see three possible reasons: 1) the bear may have been asleep in the brush and I startled it; 2) the bear may have seen me as a threat, not only to itself but also to any offspring that might have been nearby; or 3) the bear was very hungry. I do not even consider a fourth possible one that has often been suggested as a reason for discriminating against women in similar situations -- namely, the possibility that wild animals, particularly bears, are often attracted by the scent of menstrual blood of women at times of their periods. For the three summers I worked out in the bush, I was never approached by any wild animals, and my periods came and went regularly. On the day of the attack I was not menstruating.     "Regarding the first possibility, which I believe is the most likely one, bear may have been asleep in the brush and woke up startled when it heard me chipping on rocks. It should have had plenty of time to collect its wits, however, as it stared at me and circled me before charging. Although the terrain seemed rather unsuited for a comfortable lair -- large, rectangular blocks of broken-off rubble covered the ground and were almost covered by birch brush -- this hidden spot may have seemed ideal to the bear.     "It is also possible that the bear was instinctively fearful for the safety of a cub in the area. I never saw any other bear that day, but the helicopter pilot, after he left me off at the Fort Greely hospital emergency treatment, asked Fish & Game officials to find the bear that had attacked me so that it could be checked for rabies. They did, and shot what they believe to be the guilty one -- a 175-pound female. They reported the presence of a year-old cub in the area, but left it to take care of itself. If the mother encountered a strange creature in its territory and simultaneously noticed the absence of its cub, it could have reacted violently out of rage for fear of its cub. The fact that I saw no cub, it may have felt, in sudden panic, that I had something to do with its disappearance.     "As to the third possibility, extreme hunger of the bear, the post-mortem analysis of the bear's stomach revealed only a few berries and 'unidentifiable substance' that may have been parts of me. I hadn't noticed any blueberry patches on the ridge, so the bear could have been tired of hunting for berries and decided to try for larger game, since it came upon me, either unexpectedly or deliberately, at a distance of only 10 feet.     "One fact is certain: that bear wanted me for dinner -- my flesh and blood -- and once having tasted it, did not intend to let me get away. But I did get away. But I did get away. Furthermore, I’m up and around again. The bites on my head have healed and my hair has grown back to completely cover the scars. My right side is covered with new skin my left stump is strong and bas good range of motion. I'm fitted with artificial arms and am ready to resume my interrupted careers as wife and geologist.     "It will be difficult for me to operate a workable arm on my right side, where I have no stump, and to manage the use of the arm and hook on the other side, where I have no elbow. But with practice I know that I will eventually be able to make my prosthetic devices and my feet and mouth do many of the things my hands did for me before.     "I plan to continue in my job with the U.S. Geological Survey. Both Charlie and I have loved our work there, and our colleagues have been tremendously supportive of me throughout the ordeal. I'd like to stay with the Alaskan Geology Branch, perhaps specializing in petrography -- the examination of sections of three-hundredths-of-a-millimeter-thick wafers of rock under the microscope to determine their mineral composition and texture. With only minor adaptations to the microscope, I should be able to do this work as effectively as I was able to do it before my accident.     "I am determined to lead as normal a life as possible, I know that there are certain limitations I can't get around, having to rely on artificial arms. But I'm certainly going to do the best I can with all that I have left. And that's a lot!"

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