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The problem for the people of Idaho and Montana has been teaching the federal government (and state departments funded in part by federal funds) that reintroducting grizzly bears into the Selway Bitterroot Frank Church Wilderness is not good for grizzly bears and certainly not good for people. When a dry year comes along, such as the summer of 1998, bears leave the wilderness to avoid being underweight going into hibernation. They do what bears do; they look for food whereever they can find it.

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"Teaching the bears is 10 percent of it," Wenum said. "The other 90 percent is teaching people."

But it's the 10 percent with the bears that gets all the attention.

"We're trying to get these bears to do a kind of loose cost-benefit analysis," he said. "We want them to consider 'how much food did I get and what did it cost me?' We teach the bear two basic things; one, 'people have the ability to reach out and harm me, even from a distance,' and two, 'it's not worth messing with people to get a handful of birdseed.'" Of all his teaching tools, he most effective is "on-site releases," a theory pioneered in the Flathead. The idea, Wenum said, is that rather than relocating the bear to some remote site, he can teach the bear that human habitations mean trouble.

So far, with three years and 60 on-site releases behind him, Wenum is boasting a 100 percent success rate, with no repeat offenders. Even the cubs of mama bears who were conditioned are staying away from humans.

"All the bear's positive associations have been made at that site," Wenum said, "and if I can make that place negative enough, that's the last type of place he'll want to return to. "The trap door comes up and there are three or four fast and furious seconds. The bear runs out, gets shot in the butt by some rubber bullets, maybe some beanbag rounds, cracker shells are popping behind him, people are shouting, dogs are barking and chasing him. He knows right off this is not the place to be, and the next time he hears people or dogs, he'll remember that day as the day his life went to hell in a handbasket." Relocation efforts, by comparison, are highly unsuccessful, with 65 percent of bears relocated finding trouble again on down the line.

One reason the old relocation method doesn't work, Wenum said, is that bears placed in new territory don't know the food sources - the best berry patches - in their new home. As a result, they're more likely to turn to easy, alternative foods, such as garbage, livestock and birdfeeders.

In addition, a young bear dropped into a strange place will often be run off by the native bears, and when it runs, it tends to run home, and right back into trouble.

Wenum wants bears to stay home, and to stay out of trouble, which is where On-site releases and aversive. conditioning come in.

"If every time you went to the mall," Wenum said, "I gave you a $100 bill, you'd go to the mall all the time. But if every time you went to the mall, I whacked you over the head with a shovel, at some point you'd stop going to the mall. It's pretty simple."

Bouncing along a rural road, culvert trap in tow, Wenum emphasizes again and again the importance of getting rid of the "$100 bills" - securing anything a bear might consider food. Especially frustrating, he says, are those people who like to put out food to attract wild deer and turkeys.

"The people who are feeding some wildlife are doing the greatest disservice to all wildlife," he says.

At the end of the road, he stops at a small home tucked neatly into the trees on the western slopes of the Bob Marshall Wilderness. He has been here before, four or five times, to work different bears.

As the owner walks out to meet him, Wenum looks to a piece of plywood scattered with sunflower seeds. To his right, a garbage can with oats spilled on the lid stands next to the door. Stale hotdog buns lie along the walkway, birds pecking at the bread. Below the house, wild turkeys feed on grain the owner put out to attract them. In the fall, the owner says, he likes to toss elk bones over the bank so he can watch bears eat.

Today, however, he is concerned about a "nuisance" bear that has become a bit too bold. After measuring a grizzly track in the flower bed, Wenum again talks to the owner about securing attractants, and then moves on to the next home.

"Ah, the frustration," he says, pulling out of the driveway. "And the problem continues. But at least that's a mild case.'

A half-mile away, a rural farmer who has always kept food locked safely away has a culvert trap parked in the yard. The same grizzly that tracked the flower garden stopped here two nights before and tried to rip the doors off several buildings, Wenum says. "The problem didn't start here," Wenum says, "but it's here now. This is what it escalates to. The neighbors end up paying for someone else's disregard." And the bear pays,

"The future of this bear... I'm not sure," he says. "I'm not sure if-he has a future. He's already testing structures even ones that don't have any -food inside. That's not a good sign."

To protect people from the actions of their neighbors, the Flathead County; attorney has investigated the possibility of prosecuting those who persistently feed wildlife under a broad blanket law such "creating a public nuisance" or "endangerment."

So far, however, such a plan is all talk, and no one has been held accountable the results of attracting a bear into a neighborhood. "The change won't necessarily happen with new laws," Wenum said. "It's going to take a philosophical shift. People need to value wildlife even when they can't see it in the backyard. They need to find intrinsic value just in knowing the animal is out there. Then, when they do see a bear, and it's out in the wild doing what bears do and not munching on groomed Kentucky bluegrass, then the experience has greater value because of the rarity of the moment."

Wenum believes his real favor to the bears may not be teaching bruins, but rather teaching people that new philosophy.

Teaching a bear the rules

When teaching a bear a lesson, it's important to know precisely what you would like it to learn. For Erik Wenum, that means knowing what kind of bear you're dealing with. Wenum, game damage specialist for the state Department of Fish, Wildlife and Parks, teaches bears and humans to avoid each other while living side by side

In his "classroom," Wenum encounters three different types of bear students.

• The food-conditioned bear - This pupil has realized houses represent an opportunity to find food. He is still shy, however, and generally slinks in beneath cover of darkness. He needs to learn that berries are better than garbage cans.
• The habituated bear - A student of humanity, the habituated bear has no fear of people. While he may not have tasted human food, he is nevertheless bold when in a crowd. One such bear was recently moved from alongside a popular hiking trail atop The Big Mountain, where he was innocently munching huckleberries. He needs to learn that while his food source is OK, his choice of dining companions is not.
• The food-conditioned/habituated bear - This bruin is the toughest student of all. He likes human food, and doesn't care who's around to watch him eat. He will stroll boldly into the yard in the light of day, ignoring shouting neighbors and barking dogs, to steal a meal of whatever's handy. He needs to learn that people, and their food, are bad news. Different teaching methods are used to work with each different kind of bear, Wenum said, but the best bet for all is prevention. By keeping a clean house, he said, and not leaving any food out and about, the humans don't teach the bears any bad habits in the first place.

"We really don't have a bear problem," he said. "What we have is a people problem."