Bears!

Field Notes IV.XXIII: Photographs of black bears near the Great Smoky Mountains, Tennessee in June 2026

Jun 21, 2026

Welcome to Field Notes!

Some of the family arrived a day earlier. We learn by text and photos that a momma bear and three cubs walked past the cabin that evening and went up the road. Dang it! I would have loved to see them. Maybe they will be back!

This trip is a family vacation. A reunion, of sorts, of Heather’s side of the family. Uncles, aunts, cousins, nephews and nieces, grandchildren, all coming here for a rare week of time together. The “cabin” is actually a massive three story building with plenty of room for the families, a large kitchen, community area, and even a billiard room downstairs for the kids. It sits on a hillside in a gated community outside of Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, overlooking the Great Smoky Mountains just to the south.

In all honesty I’d prefer my tent and immersion in the wild, but this trip is not about me. I look forward to catching up with family and simply enjoying the week.

We arrive mid day. The bears have not returned. After settling in, I spend a long time, hours, on the second floor back deck. The view of rolling hills leading up to Mt LeConte in the distance is incredible. Despite my vigilance, no bears present themselves emerging from the forest below.

By late afternoon a boredom sets in. It’s a restlessness conjured by hours in a car followed by hours sitting on the deck. I need to walk. A hand drawn map of the neighborhood indicates that just beyond the neighborhood “lodge” is a nature trail with a view; a one mile loop.

Announcing to the family that I’m going exploring, Heather’s niece says she wants to go. She and my son are pretty close, working at the same establishment, so he’s coming along as well.

The driveway climbs steeply from the cabin and then becomes a narrow road that contours the edge of a steep hillside. Other cabins to our left are built on massive pylons, holding them suspended in the air as they protrude from the side of the mountain.

Bears! I freeze in place. I’m leading the way as we round a curve to the right. About 50 yards ahead, just a few houses away, a momma bear and her three cubs are milling about at the edge of the road.

I suppose I had been secretly hoping to encounter bears on this walk. I did bring my camera, after all. But I had not considered encountering them with two young 20-something kids in tow. Kids whose safety I’m responsible for.

“Hey bear!” I call out in a low voice, waving my arms overhead. She looks. She sees me. And she is totally unconcerned. That is not normal bear behavior.

I take a few photos, calling out several more times. We begin slowly backing away.

Neither momma nor the cubs care. They pace around, sniffing and exploring. Then they begin walking towards us. We back up more. I clap loudly several times.

The young ones disappear in some shrubbery and do not re-emerge. I believe they’ve gone downhill between cabins. Perhaps to the forest. Perhaps to climb a tree.

But momma keeps walking towards us.

I keep the kids behind me as we continue backing away. Momma is undeterred. There’s a vertical cliff to our right and a steep drop between the houses to the left. Nowhere to go but back.

The bear checks a trash can. Empty. But now I see her purpose. She’s checking every trashcan at every house and she’ll keep coming our way to do so.

Trash here is only to be deposited within a narrow window in the late morning, and then is immediately collected by property management. Still, it is alarming to me to realize they do not have bear resistant trash bins here. This momma has learned to be comfortable in proximity with people, feasting on refuse. That can only have terrible consequences at some point, for both people and for the bears.

One house did not comply with the trash schedule. Momma finds a bag, pulls it out, and descends about 25 feet down the hill beside the house to tear into it.

While she’s preoccupied we are able to walk past.

This day’s bear encounters do not end here. We walk past the lodge, heading towards the start of the nature trail. A small, maintained lawn leads up to the wood line, where the trail climbs the hilltop. Just as we begin to approach the forest, a massive crashing through vegetation races away. It is undoubtedly another bear, but the leaves are so thick we cannot see it.

We wait and when we can no longer hear movement we proceed with caution. It is gone. And the trail is also gone. A short distance uphill it becomes a freshly bulldozed track and the beginning of an area of new construction.

The way back home is uneventful, though my son an niece are excited about their story to tell.

I’ve been an early riser my whole life, and that doesn’t change on vacation. I creep downstairs, wincing at the creaking floorboards. With coffee in hand, its out to the back deck to sit in darkness as the whippoorwills sing and the owls comment in the distance. Dawn emerges slowly, but it is one of the most vivid skies I’ve seen in a long time.

Commotion arises in the house as people awaken, breakfast is made and eaten, and everyone prepares for the day ahead. I find myself back out on the deck again when someone says there are bears out by our trash bin.

The cabin has a side deck with a view to the parking lot and trash bin. I can scarcely see it from there. Downhill, on the ground beyond the trash bin and obscured by tree branches is the white bundle of a shredded trash bag. It was just taken out within the allotted time frame, but the trash collector has not yet arrived.

The bag is moving. And through the leaves black fur is visible, too. And a muzzle nosing through the trash. Supposedly its the same momma with cubs, but I don’t see the babies. Or do I? Now the mass of fur has moved away and, in fact, I can make out a small bear or two at the bag.

Speculation peaks, but then the momma emerges from the trees. She’s clearly the same chonky beast I saw yesterday. Now she is returning for more. Rounding the trash bin, she peaks inside. She uses a rail to climb up and, with butt to the sky, plunges her head down into the bin. It’s empty now, but she must have a prize. Momma grabs the empty plastic trashcan, pulls it out of the bin, and drags it away into the forest.

Just then a white truck pulls down the steep hill of our driveway and stops at the bin. Its the trash collector. A middle age man steps out of the driver’s seat. I call out to him- “hey, those bears are right there on the other side of the bin!”

He nods, but doesn’t seem as concerned as I think he should be. Perhaps this is a daily nuisance for him. The man looks down the hill at our trash bag and trash can and the bears are still right there, just about 15 yards away.

That trash collector then whips out an empty white trash bag and thrashes it violently in the air. A huge scrambling clamor erupts below. All four bears, cubs followed by momma, race up a mighty pine tree standing nearby. At first it is just the sound of furious scraping of claws on bark, but in a moment they become visible as they make their way vertically up the tree.

The trash collector says something on a handheld radio, gets in his truck, and drives away.

The bears settle down in the pine. The cubs are way up high, probably three stories, in the treetop. They shift and jockey for perches and cling to branches, but generally seem content. Momma remains much lower in the tree, wedged in between some thicker branches. She’s there as a guardian against anything that might try to climb up after them.

They aren’t coming down anytime soon, and we have an agenda of things to do in Gatlinburg today. Our family is able to get into cars without issue, and we leave the arboreal bears behind.

Rain comes in the afternoon. We pull back up to the cabin wondering, but momma bear and cubs have gone and do not return.

We have no fixed agenda on day three. After a late breakfast and relaxed morning, I’m trying to figure out how to make an escape into the Smoky Mountains National Park. The big problem is that I didn’t get a parking pass for the park ahead of time. There are a limited numbers of locations to purchase one in the park, but these spots can get so crowded that you cannot find a parking space to park at the places that sell parking passes. A true conundrum!

In the meantime, my son has decided he’s going golfing. Not long after he’s left, Heather tells me he encountered a bear in our driveway. Apparently it was on the other side of his car as he got into it. When he put the car in reverse, half of the back up camera was obscured by black fur. He didn’t hit the bear, but was right next to it as he was pulling out.

I step out onto the side deck to look, but there is no sign of this bear.

I decide to just try to go to the Sugarlands Visitor’s Center and attempt to get a parking pass. Maybe I can get passes for the upcoming days, as well. My daughter comes with, just for something to do.

Driving out on the narrow road leading out of the subdivision, who do we see? The bear. This one looks smaller, no babies around. It is walking in the middle of the road and all we can do is follow slowly behind it until our paths diverge at an intersection.

The parking pass attempt is a fail. We circle through the Sugarlands parking lots numerous times and cannot find a place to park. We did, however, continue on for a scenic drive with a few brief stops along the way.

Back at the cabin, its a relaxed afternoon of sipping coffee and reading on the back deck. Then, in the evening, hamburgers and hotdogs are on the menu. Two gas grills on the deck make quick work of the food prep. Most of us are chowing down on the enormously long table with benches adjacent to the kitchen when Uncle Tommy says that a bear has come out of the woods below the back deck.

Sure enough, it is there, standing in a small expanse of lawn between the house and the forest. I can’t tell if this bear is a male or female, but it is alone. Its standing fairly still, breathing hard in the summer heat. Smelling the grill.

I photograph this bear from the safety of the second floor porch. Then, as it meanders away around the side of the cabin, I scramble halfway down a spiral staircase to the first floor deck for more photos. The spot is still elevated from ground level and separated by a railing below.

The bear isn’t frightened by my contortions, though. It is just hungry and hot. It slowly makes its way around our parked cars, past the empty trash bin, and vanishes again into the woods.

Some of the family who stayed at the cabin during the day over the next few days saw more bears. Maybe a different momma, possibly with four cubs. But this bear on this evening was the last I saw on the trip.

I am left with uncertain feelings about these bears. These are undoubtedly the closes bear encounters I have ever had. Seeing them at this proximity gives rise to a visceral recognition of their power and an awe filled appreciation of the majesty of nature. They are inherently wild creatures, forced out of their element by the circumstances of the modern world. In that sense I feel a strong kinship with them.

I am glad for the opportunity to witness these bears. To photograph them. To share the images that hopefully inspire others to appreciate them. But at the same time, I also recognize that this opportunity is also the bears’ tragedy. They’ve learned to encroach on humans for food. Those cubs have already learned this. Every bear I have encountered in the wild has fled instantly upon contact with me. These bears’ comfort around humans is alarming. At some point some human will do something dumb and get hurt. And that will be the bear’s death sentence. And it is not the bear’s fault.

So, in the end, I look deeply into the eyes of the bears. Sister bear. Brother bear. Sublime messengers of nature’s wisdom, more ancient than human memory. Thank you, and I am sorry.

I do hope these photos of bears gives you a deeper appreciation for these truly remarkable animals. The pictures from the first day aren’t tack sharp as I was photographing on the move while back pedaling, but I think they turned out ok. Questions, comments, thoughts on bears living around people, your bear encounters? Let’s discuss!

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