Our Bears - Ursula

Barely a bear Cub raised by humans faces tenuous future as she struggles with rehabilitation

By Amy McRary - News-Sentinel staff writer

Ursula is a6-month-old black bear with an uncertain future. Raised by humans for an unknown but critical length of time, this 23-pound cub prefers people to her own species.  Ursula acts more like a puppy than a bear - a rough strong puppy whose claws could rip open a tree or an arm. She craves human contact she can't have, crying and pacing so frantically and uncontrollably she bloodies her paws and hurts her head. Confiscated by the Tennessee Wildlife Resources Agency in May and now at the Knoxville Zoo, Ursula can't live in the woods.

The cub that obviously spent little time with her mother could never survive. Ursula's best chance - and perhaps only hope - is that she learn to live with and relate to other black bears.  The Knoxville Zoo is working diligently to rehabilitate the cub by introducing her to one of its young male bears, a gentle giant named Otis.  "If we can do that, she has a chance," said Knoxville Zoo Director Jim Vlna. Such socializations could take months, and there's no set time limit on its development, said Lisa New, the zoo's director of animal collections for mammals and birds.  "It's totally dependent on the animals."  The hope is that Ursula will adapt to living with Otis and then be introduced to the zoo's other young male bear, Alvin. 

But Ursula also must stop her anxious, hurtful pacing. If she were still in the wild, the cub would still be with her mother. TWRA Agent John Barham's investigation into how the bear was raised by humans is continuing.  It's illegal to take a cub from the wild, said Barham.  It can also be dangerous.  Now the size of and adult cocker spaniel, Ursula's diminutive looks disguise sharp claws, powerful jaws and a growing strength that is fast making her unable to be handled.  When grown, she could weigh from 250 to 400 pounds. Ursula's story emphasizes that bears aren't pets, said Appalachian Bear Center Curator Evan James. 

"I always have people tell me, 'I'd love to have a bear cub.' And she's adorable.  What they forget is she'll grow up to be 250 pounds.  And not knowing she's a bear, she could come up and hurt you bad." Vlna agrees.  "When she's 16, 20 pounds, she's fun," he said.  "She will fetch a toy, like a puppy.  But what happens when she's 30 pounds, 40 pounds, 100 pounds?  She'll go after a ball; she'll go after a leg."

Ursula was found by a couple driving on Highway 91 in Carter County one May evening.  The man and woman first thought they'd seen a dog.  They put the cub in their car, drove home and called authorities.  Barham said the bear was curled up sleeping in the couple's living room when he picked it up the next day.  Another person had apparently been raising the cub but released it. Barham took the cub to the Appalachian Bear Center in Townsend.  There, Evan James quickly realized the center couldn't keep the cub he named Ursula. 

The non-profit agency rehabilitates young bears that can be returned to the wild.  Those bears are afraid of people.  "They make a blowing sound.  They pop their jaws," James said.  "Even cubs we have here 30, 45 days are just as cranky and mean with people as when they came in." Ursula was different, "She had none of those behaviors.  She was crying and wanted to be held, wanted to be petted." The cub's options then, James said, were "to be euthanized right away because there is no chance for her or try to find her a place in a zoo." 

With TWRA's permission, James called the Knoxville Zoo. The zoo has four black bears in four bear dens, but officials agreed to keep Ursula while they looked for her a suitable home.  But no facility accredited to care for bears had room.  Ten orphaned bears were ahead of Ursula on a waiting list maintained byt he American Zoological Association's bear advisory group. And it was quickly apparent Ursula is what New calls, "a special needs bear" with a deep attraction to humans.  Housed in the zoo clinic, the cub hit her head against cage bars.  She cried.  She furiously, frantically paced for hours.  "She wouldn't even notice her paws were bleeding, and there would be blood all over the cage," New said. 

Keepers mulched Ursula's den to soften her path.  A canine separation anxiety drug didn't lessen her anxiety. Since her care required funds not in the zoo budget, Ursula came to the park's Zoofari fund-raiser.  Held by keepers and restrained on a leash, the cub was taken to the June event "as a way to tell her story in hopes of raising funds to care for her," Vlna said.  Some $2,700 was raised for her care. With no other suitable home for her, the zoo began to gradually introduce Ursula to its young bears.  Zoo workers hoped Ursula could learn to live with other bears and be weaned from her desire to be with humans.  "This is her only chance," said New.  "You can't keep her with humans; she has to be with bears."

So Ursula began to divide her time between the clinic and the zoo's Black Bear Falls exhibit.  At the clinic she receives 30 minutes of individual exercise time each morning and evening.  Keepers handle the cub but let her run and give her stuffed toys to shake and wrestle with. At Black Bear Falls Ursula was placed alone in an indoor den; Otis and Alvin were in an adjacent outdoor area.  A heavy mesh "howdy door" separated Ursula from the other bears.  The animals could see, smell and lick at each other through the door. 

Otis seemed the most interested in the cub; Ursula was first frightened and then curious. Ursula's rehabilitation took a big step early this month when she was placed in an off-exhibit bear den with Otis.  Ursula climbed the den bars in fear; Otis ignored her.  As Otis moved to sniff at her, Ursula fell to the den floor, stood on her back legs and hissed.  But Otis made no effort to hurt the cub, New said. Now Otis and Ursula are together in the den several hours a day four days a week.  Two keepers watch from outside the den; water hosed are near if the bears get too rough.  But the larger, stronger Otis is a tolerant creature that rolls on his back as if to play.  "If this succeeds, he's the one to thank," said New.  Soon Ursula will leave the clinic to spend all her time at Black Bear Falls. Evan if Ursula accepts living with bears, she must stop her frenzied pacing.  "It goes to her quality of life." New said.  "If she and Otis are living together and she still is hitting her head and pacing all day to the point of injuring her paws, it's not good for her.  Ultimately if she's still pacing like that, there are much more serious problems." Should such problems continue, the zoo and TWRA would discuss the few options left.  Vlna said one possibility would be that an accredited facility willing to have a solitary, emotionally challenged bear might then have an opening. 

Euthanasia would be a "last resort," said TWRA regional wildlife biologist Doug Scott.  "That may be necessary, but hopefully not." Scott said. "Even though none of us can stand to think about it, that is an option," New said. Ursula could never be released to the wild.  "In all good conscience, I would not release a bear that was habituated to humans," Scott said.  Said Vlna: "She doesn't have the tools she needs.  She would end up being one of those bears that goes into town and is labeled a bad bear . . . She has no fear of humans and, because of that, she's a danger to humans." There's hope Ursula will succeed.  "Hopefully she can be introduced to Otis and Alvin, her pacing will drop off and she'll live happily ever after," said New. "It's a waiting game," said Evan James. "I think it's going to be hard to say at this point what's going to happen to her.  We all hope for the best."

Amy McRrary can be reached at 865-342-6437 and amymcrary@comcast.net

Reprinted with permission from The Knoxville News-Sentinel