I’d never been to Ocala National Forest before but I heard it was THE place to see Florida black bears and I needed to photograph them for my new Florida wildlife book, so there I was. Reports of increased bear activity in the Juniper Wilderness area led me to the Hopkins Prairie campground and as I set up my tent, I overheard the camp host tell neighboring campers that there’d been five bear sightings in camp over the last two weeks. One was a female with two cubs that frequented a tree between that campsite and mine. Relief washed over me; It seemed I would get my bear pictures on my very first attempt, and cubs at that.  

I awoke to a rosy glow filtered through distant pines and reflected on adjacent waters. Knowing dawn was one of the peak activity periods for bears, and therefore one of my best chances for seeing one, I dragged myself from my cozy sleeping bag to brave the cold. Pine trees clacked in the wind above like sparring woodstork beaks as I ventured down the Florida Trail into the Juniper Wilderness area.

I hadn’t gone far when I heard a loud exhale from the bushes to my right, the type of noise my dog makes as she settles in for a nap. I froze, holding my own breath as I stared in the direction of the sound. Whatever had made it was large, probably my bear. I took a step closer, trying to see through the wall of vegetation. It was too thick. I walked along the edge looking for a chink, but it was impenetrable. Another exhale came from inside the shrub fortress. I moved along the edge again, seeking some overlooked view, until it occurred to me that snooping around a potentially unaware bear was maybe not the wisest thing I’d ever done. If this were indeed a bear and it decided to emerge, we would be in close quarters and this narrow trail probably wasn’t a sufficient escape route. I stepped back to what felt like a more reasonable distance, but I couldn’t bring myself to entirely abandon the quest. Folly it may be, but I was here to see a bear. I waited. And waited. The only sounds now came from a twittering chickadee. I finally gave up.

As I continued down the trail, I saw signs of bears everywhere – fresh digging and large piles of seed-filled scat – but no bears. I spent the rest of the day exploring other areas, hiking trails and driving unpaved roads but these lacked even a hint of bear. It was clear that first trail was the right place, I just needed to persist. But what was the best method? I’d likely been within a few feet of a bear on the trail in the morning but saw not even a glimpse. There was a hefty pile of bear scat behind the tent site adjacent mine, perhaps I should see if the bears would come to me.