Lou’s View

By Lou Bernard

Central Pennsylvania is filled with wild creatures. You can’t glance in any direction without seeing a couple of squirrels at least. Out in the wilderness, I have personally encountered bears three times, which gives me something in common, I suppose, with Samuel Lebo.

Samuel H. Lebo was a forest ranger from up around Gallagher Township, and his incident was reported in both the Record and the Lock Haven Express on July 7, 1911. He was patrolling the forests around Pine Creek when it happened. The headline in the Record was “Mother Bear Turns Joke On Forest Ranger Lebo.”

While out on a fire trail, Lebo heard sounds coming from the nearby brush—What was described in the paper as a “commotion.” He waited until it got closer, and then saw a huge black bear come out of the brush. Lebo hid, watching, as the bear came back and waked down the path, followed by three small cubs.

Lebo decided to follow them, because obviously, that seemed like a great idea.
Let me add this note: Like Lebo, I love the wilderness and have encountered wild animals. Unlike Lebo, I am not foolish and reckless. The most terrifying time I ever saw a bear involved a cub, and I’m alive largely because I retreated and did not mess with the cub. In the woods, that’s the stupidest thing you can do. And I don’t want to be getting any hate mail from Lebo’s descendants because I called him out on this moronic stunt—You’re lucky you were ever born. I’m sure Lebo was a good man and a competent forest ranger, but this was a ridiculous action to take. To all my readers at home, I cannot stress this enough: NEVER MESS WITH A BEAR CUB.

I remember a Saturday Night Live sketch when I was young, where Dan Aykroyd played a scarred man promoting his new book “Mauled,” in which he gave advice like “Do not ride the bears.” I’m not saying you should take all your outdoor advice from Saturday Night Live, but in this case, it wouldn’t have been a bad idea.

The newspapers described Lebo’s next boneheaded move: He let out a loud shriek, frightening the bears. “The big bear broke into a run,” said the article, ”While the chaps in the rear did their best to keep up the pace. The ranger started in quick pursuit.”

Up ahead, a log had fallen over the trail. The mother bear leaped over it easily, and two of the three cubs crawled over. The third cub got stuck on the log, and Lebo ran toward it. The newspaper said,”Lebo was not slow on closing in on the little fellow.” The newspaper does not make it clear exactly what Lebo’s plan was.

Hearing the cub cry out, the mother turned around and charged at him, roaring. And, according to the papers, Lebo did the first sensible thing he’d done in this entire escapade.

“Lebo dropped the cub and started in the opposite direction, making great haste to get out of reach of the now enraged mother bear.”

Once Lebo had run, and the cub was safe, the mother bear turned away and walked down the path, cubs following. They disappeared into the brush up ahead, and Lebo let them go. The newspaper said he “returned to his duties rather a wiser man.”

Samuel Lebo died in Montoursville in 1934. The lucky part is that he’d managed to live another twenty-three years after the bear incident, and presumably no bears were involved in his death, which happened at home in bed, to everyone’s relief.