It’s okay to admit it: you wish you could pet a bear.
Sure, we’ve all heard the stories about mauling hikers and stealing food from campsites. But, surely, that’s not all the bears right? Most of the bears are kind spirits of nature, happy to receive some pats from a friendly camper in exchange for a chewy granola bar.
That description might seem dangerously ignorant, but it’s the perspective maintained by the National Park Service for the first 20 years of its existence. Bear feeding — by both visitors and staff — used to be the norm. Like the firefall in Yosemite, it became a particularly popular form of entertainment in Yellowstone National Park.
But, of course, you can’t see a ranger feeding a grizzly bear trash today. In fact, you’re much more likely to receive a stern warning for approaching any wildlife too closely. So how did this popular, deeply ingrained habit come to an end?
Bear feeding from the beginning
The practice of feeding bears was not a conscious policy decision made by the National Park Service. Rather, it was a habit inherited from a time when there was no real regulation — and much less understanding — for how humans should interact with wildlife in the national parks. Before the establishment of the Park Service in 1916, the military administration of Yellowstone reported on the dangers of bear feeding:
“When [the bears] are fed and petted, as some of them have been in the past, they lose all fear of human beings and are liable to do considerable damage to property and provisions at the various hotel and camp kitchens.”
Despite this warning, reported in 1902, bear feeding continued after the establishment of the NPS. It was a common practice in Yellowstone when Horace Albright became superintendent. Near Old Faithful, there was an established “Lunch Counter for Bears.” Albright himself could be seen sitting at a table with black bears, grinning from ear to ear.


Photographer unknown;
No date Credit: NPS.

Photographer unknown;
No date Credit: NPS.
Though the official policy of the NPS was that tourists should not feed the bears, the implicit endorsement of the park staff made it impossible for visitors to resist. In a behavior trained by regular feedings, bears lurked around campgrounds and garbage dumps looking for a meal. “Beggar bears” were so bold as to stop cars on the park roads, soliciting tourists for savory delights and sweet treats.
Though bear feeding occurred to the greatest extent at Yellowstone, it was not the only national park where bears got regular snacks. Yosemite, Crater Lake, and Mount Rainier also reported frequent interactions between tourists and bears. Like Yellowstone, some parks went so far as having designated feeding areas. In Sequoia National Park, tourists could regularly see bears at the aptly named Bear Hill.

Bear feeding policy far from practice
For a national park visitor in the 1920s and 1930s, it would have been hard to determine the true NPS bear feeding policy. Signs were posted discouraging handouts, much like what a visitor may see today. This was directly contradicted by NPS practice. With established feeding areas, regular dumping of concessionaire leftovers to attract them, and superintendents suppering alongside the bears, it was a true epidemic of double-speak.

Naturally, tourists followed the example of park rangers — and their own intrusive thoughts. Candy was sold in Yellowstone gift shops specifically to feed to the bears. As was predicted, bears eating out the hands of tourists resulted in injuries, to both man and beast.
In his autobiography, The Birth of the National Park Service, Horace Albright described his course of action when an incident occurred:
“Occasionally the bear would bite or scratch the visitor in trying to reach the food. Then, of course, we would get an impassioned complaint about the ‘vicious’ bear. I would answer such complaints by first telling the visitor that he or she should not have held out to the bear; second that the wound was only superficial; and third, that the bear’s bite was actually a souvenir to take home. The third point rarely failed to convince the visitor that the bear bite or scratch was really something worthwhile.”
It’s an astounding policy, handed down straight from the top of NPS leadership.

Despite this de-facto deference to the bear, animals were harmed by the NPS prioritization of entertainment over ecology. Across the park system, bears became too comfortable and too reliant on human handouts. Serious personal and property damage occurred. Bears were the ones to pay the price — no human paid a life penalty for feeding them.
New knowledge creates new policy
In 1933, a major move in the direction of a proper human-animal relationship in the national parks was made. A report titled Fauna of the National Parks of the United States was released with several sections devoted to the bear feeding issue. “The bears travel a vicious circle,” it states, “but obviously it is man who keeps them running on that path.”
The authors of the report recognized that the entertainment-based interactions between bears and humans needed to end. The bears were becoming increasingly dependent on tourist treats — but that was just one of a host of harms. It was noted that young bears may not properly learn how to forage for food outside of human garbage. The tourist season also didn’t coincide with when bears needed to be putting on pounds for hibernation. In addition, feasting in garbage heaps portrayed bears to the public as nothing more than oversized raccoons.

The report encouraged a complete makeover of how the NPS viewed bears. They couldn’t be exploited for entertainment any longer. “Man will have to learn that in this new situation wild animals are still wild; and that, even though the animals are there for man’s benefit and enjoyment, he will have to learn how to enjoy them.”
The report recommended a study of the issue, as well as initial strategies for curbing the bear feeding habit. It suggested more stern public education, bear-proofing of structures, and removing food from human areas.

Despite this comprehensive and science-based report, change would be slow. The practice was deeply ingrained in what people expected from a visit to Yellowstone or Sequoia. Eventually though, public practice would catch up with the newly budding field of wildlife ecology.
Today, the NPS has strong messaging and guidance around how visitors should interact with bears. “Seeing a bear in the wild is a special treat for any visitor to a national park,” reads a statement on the NPS website. “While it is an exciting moment, it is important to remember that bears in national parks are wild and can be dangerous.”
In no case will you find that the National Park Service encourages offering delicate morsels to the wildlife.
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