bear tranquilizers

banora-white-aka-dumbapple  asked:

The minute I saw "That time a bear broke into the house while I was stoned on cold meds." I knew I had to search your family lore tags to see if you mentioned it before. Whenever you're up for it, mind telling about it? I'm actually curious how did you realize it? Were you alone the entire time?

Ok, so it actually happened ON my 16th birthday, so October of 2006, two years after we moved to CO. I was attending the Germ Pit of Public High School, and got sick about a month in.  I was the sort of phenomenally boring child that didn’t have a curfew because I never went anywhere, and we had Cody, the Gentleman Shepherd at the time, so my parents felt it was OK to leave me alone for a few hours while they did errands.  

There’s something up with either the Bipolar or my allergies, but pretty much all respiratory medications make me hallucinate.  Doesn’t matter if it’s benadryl, nyquil or nasal spray, twenty minutes in I’ll be out of my goddamn mind.  But it beats not being able to breathe. So I’m in my bedroom upstairs bedroom, convinced I’m growing an exoskeleton, While Cody sits on the bed next to me, doing the Shepherd Thing where he plants his ass in front of my face and watches all the doors and windows.

I have nearly passed out when I think I hear a weird popping noise outside, but assume that it’s just me developing mandibles, so I don’t think much of it.  Cody, being the Responsible Adult, gets up to investigate.

A moment later, I hear him Barking, and know something is Amiss.  This dog Does Not Bark.  he didn’t bark when we picked him up at the shelter, he doesn’t bark at the door or the foxes or anything, but he is barking now.  I warp myself in the Extra-Soft Rainbow Unicorn Blanket for protection, and stumble downstairs.

For some context, the downstairs has an office, with a large set of sliding glass doors and a concrete porch, then a large wall with a heavy door that leads to a mudroom, which has a shitty little screen door leading to the outside.  It was in this room that we kept the cat food and littler box, because 1. they stank. 2. Cody would occasionally want to play with the cats Too Much and they could hide in there.  

Out on the porch is the Department Of Wildlife sharpshooter, pointing her tranquilizer gun into the Mudroom.  I squint through the haze of dayquil through the heavy door (which has a window) at…

It took me a good minute to realize that was a Bear eating the cat food, because my first thought was “When did we get a shag sofa?”.  Then DOW guy shot him in the ass in the dart, and I watched as a 300lb black bear dove THROUGH the door shitty screen door he’d gotten in through (It was the kind that closes behind you) and run off to the field across the street, pursued by four agents with dogs and bear mace.

The DOW sharpshooter, named Debbie, apparently couldn’t see the wall between us from where she was standing, and was very relived that neither of us had been mauled.   She stayed with me while I called my parents, and even gave me some stickers.  The bear had apparently gone though my whole neighborhood in a fit of hyperphagic madness, chowing down on garbage, cat food, a small vineyard’s worth of grapes and a couple of Mrs. Chin’s goldfish.

They successfully tranquilized the bear, and took him up to Pingree to be hazed and released, where he would hopefully leave people alone.

BTW, if you ever have to call your parents in a situation like this, leaving a voicemail of “Hey mom, I’m okay now, but a bear broke into the house and the Department of Wildlife wants to talk to you.” is not going to help your parents remain calm.


Lordy, Lordy!!! 

I Am Truly Thankful For The 27,000+ Followers Of My Tumblr! 

In Gratitude, May I Present A Few Of My Favorite Things:

Sexy Muscular Hindquarters…

Sexy Chris Robshaw And His Mates…

Sexy Men in Tight Uniforms…

Sexy Treasure Trails…

Sexy Bears…

And Sexy Sportsmen The World Over!

Woof, Baby!



It had been any other normal spring morning when Vandar had figured out he was being hunted and tracked. He lead them on for a few days until he grew bored of the games. But these were not with the Russians, the government having an agreement that anyone who hunted him could be hunted back. No these people were prepared, bear traps, shotguns, tranquilizers. 

After two weeks and several tries on their part he was shot with eight different tranqs. It was enough to keep him down. Six hours later and he is on a plane, stupid humans leaving him unmuzzled. Finishing eight of them off before he was down again. Just as he would come into awareness he was pumped with more drugs, each time it worked less and less. 

Finally he was moved from one tight enclosed cage to being dumped into another. The drugs had worn off and the collar against his thick neck had a cool metal, he knew it was a shock collar. He had already managed to take the muzzle off with his claws. His wrists were crossed as he laid in the tarp covered barred cage.

“Well he’s in there for ya Mister Frost. My boss hopes you will find this in good favor for the business, eh.” The man was clearly uneasy about what was in the cage. “J-Just be careful ya…” He scurried away and his nose wrinkled at the prey going away.

Vandar’s ears pivoted forward as he listened to to footsteps on the floor.

O Brave Norwegian Polar Bear Milkers, We Salute You

WADTT: This is probably my favorite story from @geekhyena about the ridiculous things people do for science. 

“So a professor I know was contacted to create a polar bear milk replacer for rehab/zoo situations. But he needed data on polar bear milk composition. So he found this team of Norwegian researchers that were collecting samples of polar bear milk to study their diets, because if they were eating more fish/ocean-based food versus land-based prey, it would change the fatty acid composition.

When I first told the WADTT mod this, they were like wow, how did you get polar bears to be trained to be milked? 

The answer: they didn’t. They found female lactating polar bears, tranquilized them very carefully, milked them in the wild, and then made sure the females were ok and woke up ok….from a safe distance. All to study wild diets of polar bears and their response to climate change. And then they had a lot of milk composition data my professor could use to develop a realistic replacement for baby polar bears.

O brave Norwegian polar bear milkers, we salute you!”

[in the dark of the night demons will find her]

Merry Christmas, @accioecho! It was a lot of fun to be your Secret Santa! And here’s your gift: almost six thousand words (because I have no self control) of Captain Swan x Marvel, because we’re both MCU fans, yay. The prompt was “lovers on opposite sides of the war.” Hope you enjoy it! Hugs!


It started, as most things destined to go well did not, in a dive bar in Moscow three days before Christmas. Zero fahrenheit would have qualified as a heat wave. The city was buried in a foot-thick layer of deceptively beautiful white cement, tea poured piping hot was somehow only lukewarm when you lifted it to your lips, and hard as Emma tried to blend in with the impervious comrades thronging past, she was increasingly convinced that the weather was far more of a hazard to her health than any number of ex-KGB commandos with Kalashnikovs, and she was expecting quite a few of those if this didn’t go well. Maybe this was SHIELD’s way of throwing her into the deep end and seeing if she could swim. Now that she thought of it, probably. Kind and gentle job training wasn’t exactly their thing. She had finally decided to go straight after years working around, over, behind, and below the law, only to find herself doing essentially the same thing all over again, this time for them. The big difference, she supposed, was that if she got herself killed, someone would retrieve the body. Plus the money. She’d done fairly well as a freelancer, but never six figures a paycheck.

Not that she did intend to screw this up. She was, after all, a professional, and had tracked down rogue vigilantes, Hydra agents, mad scientists, and wealthy tech entrepreneurs a lot more dangerous than this guy. Not that she was underestimating him. The only name she had was Hook. He appeared in their files here and there, financing illegal weapons deals in the Gulf or rebel organizations in Sokovia (well, before Ultron had wiped it off the map), connected to a mysterious computer virus called “Neverland” that had taken the entire Internet hostage, and rumored to have bought or stolen an Infinity Stone – to name the very least of the reasons why SHIELD was keenly interested in putting him out of business. They’d tried to investigate his background, but he or whatever black hat he was working with had taken care to erase all records of his past before he embarked on his global crime spree. The only thing Emma had to go on were a few brief video clips and eyewitness descriptions. That line about being tall, handsome as hell, and so good at being so bad apparently fit him to a tee. English accent, not that that meant much in pinning down his origins. Incredibly charming, intelligent, witty, and ruthless – by that description, probably a textbook psychopath. And, assuming their intelligence was correct, going to be here at this no-account bar in Russia in the assblast of winter, tonight, to pick up some unspecified material for his next and greatest scheme.

And she, Emma Swan, was going to be waiting for him.

Keep reading

“You said, ‘No one can interview Spider-Man, you dipshit, because he’s not a real character.’ And to that, I said, 'I know a guy who sells experimental bear tranquilizers.’”

4 Things About Spider-Man That Don’t Make Any Damn Sense

#4. With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility

Spider-Man: I’m really sad about my uncle dying.

Cracked: Are you, though? Are you really?

Spider-Man: Of course! He was my mentor, he taught me … uh … actually, now that I think about it, he was clearly trying to be a mentor to me, but he sucked at it. He would say stuff like, “If you could do good things for other people, you had a moral obligation to do those things” and “Ever since you were a little boy, you’ve been living with so many unresolved things. Those things send us down a road. They make us who we are.”

Cracked: That advice sounds like something my drunk uncle would say, only translated into Fortune Cookie.

Read More

Field Journal: Tracking and Trapping a Bear

Rae Wynn-Grant is a conservation science research and teaching postdoctoral fellow jointly appointed with the Center for Biodiversity and Conservation and the Museum’s Education department. Her work explores the influence of human activity on large carnivore ecology. Dr. Wynn-Grant is currently studying the impacts of human activity on landscape use, habitat suitability, and habitat connectivity of black bears in Nevada, where she was conducting her research when she wrote this field journal last month. This is her third Field Journal, check out the first and second in the series. 

We’ve trapped a bear! It took quite some time and a lot of patience, but when we checked one of our bear traps recently, it was occupied by a bear who had been exploring the area—which is near one of the popular ski resorts in the region—and apparently couldn’t pass up a free meal in one of our traps.

The caged bear was a cinnamon-furred male, about five years old and weighing around 250 pounds. Though this animal was cinnamon in color, it was still a black bear—many people don’t realize that as a species, black bears can display a variety of colors, including grey, brown, and even occasionally white. Despite the fact that he had just emerged from a long hibernation, this guy was in excellent physical condition. 

We tranquilized the bear, then carried him out of the trap in order to take measurements, collect hair and blood samples used in DNA analysis, and place an identification tag on his ear, as well as a GPS collar around his neck. These collars emit a signal that connects with a satellite, giving us a reading of the animal’s longitude and latitude every 3 hours. This information is stored in a database that helps in the development of habitat selection models.

GPS collars are especially useful during the winter months, because they can tell us where bears are making their winter dens, which is a priority for our research. We’re extremely interested in what type of habitat is preferred by black bears for dens, especially in terms of the proximity to human-dominated areas. We are also curious about what different bears look for in dens. Are there significant differences between the locations of dens for males and females? What about females with cubs? Having all of this information is important to creating effective models for managing human-bear relationships in the area and minimizing conflicts between the two species.

Also notable was the fact that this bear didn’t have an ear tag, which means it had never been trapped before. This is always exciting because it means that we’re getting information from a brand new individual to add to our database. We’re all eager to see where this bear spends most of his time, and now we’ll be able to track his movements throughout the year.

Read the first and second posts in Dr. Wynn-Grant’s Field Journal series. 

“ Can people, so comfortable to living unchallenged in the food chain, peacefully coexist with predators?”

J. Weston Phippen writes in Can Bears and Humans Coexist?:

It was 9:45 in the morning, high in the mountains of Flagstaff, Arizona, on a ranch road that runs alongside a dried-up lake named Dry Lake, when a bear wandered into town. The Arizona Game and Fish Department is responsible for managing wildlife, and sometimes that means killing them. For three hours last Friday, agents chased a black bear across roads, through thickets of pine trees, down hills, and over neighborhood fences. The bear was a male, three years old, and so considered an adult. A fatal category. Agents shot the bear with a tranquilizer near a busy highway, then they killed it.

It’s a precarious thing to live near the wild. Most people move to places like Flagstaff, known for its ponderosa pine forests and the red rock buttes to the south, precisely because of its proximity to nature––to be able to walk out the door and become lost in country that feels as raw as it did 200 years ago. But part of living so close to nature means living in wandering distance of animals that can kill, like mountain lions or black bears. After the agency killed the bear, it was not the town’s safety that concerned the most vocal residents. Instead, it started a conversation across the state that’s also come up recently in Los Angeles with a mountain lion named P-22, with wolves in rural Oregon and anywhere around Yellowstone National Park, and also with black bears in a gated community in central Florida. Can people, so comfortable to living unchallenged in the food chain, peacefully coexist with predators?

Read more about the tenuous relationship between bears and humans here.