ÂÒÂ×ÄÚÉä

That’s one of the takeaways photographer Kenny Kemp and I took away from hiking the Sewell Road Trail in Babcock State Park one day last month.

About halfway down the trail, which follows the route of an old road and an older railroad into the New River Gorge from Babcock’s famous Glade Creek Gristmill, we encountered the first of several fresh piles of No. 2 from the state’s No. 1 big game animal, in terms of size.

While I have yet to earn my Master Naturalist’s certificate, it seemed obvious that the black bear scat had been very recently deposited. Shortly after resuming our hike after making a stop to admire the waterfall and new bridge along the trail at the Flanagan Branch, my peripheral vision detected movement up the steep slope to our left.

Sure enough, maybe 30 yards away, a black bear — quite likely the trail tread poop-etrator — was sitting on a boulder, facing away from us. But before we could get a long look at it or frame a suitable photograph, it sensed our presence, turned, and began scrambling uphill and out of sight.

As black bear encounters go, this one was about par for the course for me. I have come across a half dozen or so of the apex omnivores over the years while hiking or fishing, So far, thankfully, the bears have all responded by either turning tail and jogging away, warily padding their way past me from a distance, or splashing through the stream I’m fishing in, with little apparent interest in my presence.

In recent days, however, two other West Virginians have experienced unexpected bear encounters — one at the front door of his home, and the other at the back door of his workplace. Both incidents were recorded by security cameras.

The first encounter occurred May 1, when James Marsh, principal at Zela Elementary School in Nicholas County, started his workday by opening the dumpster at the rear of the school. As he pulled out the bar locking the container, Marsh was startled by a black bear growling, then poking its head out of the dumpster before jumping out and running away in the opposite direction that Marsh was fleeing the scene.

“If you’re not already awake, let me assure you, that will wake you up,� Marsh said of the 7:15 a.m. encounter in an interview with WOWK.

On a dark and stormy night in Fairmont on May 8, the Dustin Smith home got a surprise visit from a black bear that crossed the lawn, climbed onto the porch and rang the front doorbell shortly before 11 p.m. The doorbell tone, which prompted a dog inside the home to start barking, startled the bear. It turned tail and disappeared into the darkness.

Smith, who initially thought the doorbell ring was caused by wind-driven debris from the storm, discovered that a black bear was the culprit when he played his security camera’s video the following day.

“We were a victim of a good old-fashioned ding dong ditch, but this time it wasn’t performed by a teenager,� he posted on social media the following day.

If Smith’s door rings again late at night in the not-too-distant future and he finds a flaming paper bag on his porch, he would be well advised not to stomp out the flames.

This is bear country.