My Brief Career as a Bear Wrangler



Photo Credit:Chris Wyman

One summer after I graduated high school, I worked at a resort in Northern Wisconsin wrangling bears and mowing lawns, but truth be told I spent most of my time collecting garbage.

An older, German gentleman, Hans, and I drove around in a blue late 1980s F-150 truck, picking up garbage from assorted cabins around the property. He would play polka music on cassette tapes and tell me stories about his younger days. On the days that he was off work, I would drive without music and collect the beer cans that vacationers left in the cabins. If they left food or beer behind, it was fair game, so I had a seemingly endless supply of cheap beer that summer. I did not buy light beer like Keystone, Coors, Busch, Miller, and others, given that I was a Heineken and Newcastle man in my misspent youth. My friends were pleased when I always had extra beer that no one had to purchase.

The bear wrangling was less dangerous than it sounds because they were leery of us. When we rounded the loop of the cabins, we came to a turnaround with several dumpsters. These dumpsters were fair game for the black bears in the area. Many times I saw black bears of all shapes and sizes waiting for us to unload. Usually, they would hang back and come lumbering up once the truck left.  Or we would see their black butts juxtaposed against the foliage as they hauled ass into the woods. They loved the kitchen garbage the best because the bags were full of grease, sausages, and syrupy goodness culled from large breakfasts and dinners. Undoubtedly, once we left they would be back at the dumpsters taking what they wanted. Part of our job was to clean up after them, hauling the garbage they dragged out back and putting it in the dumpsters.

One day, however, bears were in the dumpster, and they were loud. I did not want to get too close because I was scared it might be a huge, mother bear. Soon curiosity got the better of me when even loud shuffling near the truck did not dissuade them to leave. I did not want to honk the horn but would have if I needed to. I approached cautiously to find three cubs frolicking in the dumpster like it was their playpen. One cautiously looked over the rim and saw me. Soon they all took off toward the woods. It felt like a comic caper with small bears stumbling over themselves to escape. I felt a little bit like the ranger chasing Boo Boo. I wish I had been able to take pictures.

That was one of the last times I wrangled bears. I only worked there one summer before going back to school and staying at college over the summers. I bet some of those bears are still there, digging through the dumpsters in search of a picnic basket or a stray donut.

Read about some dumpster bears.

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