(NY) Charging bear killed by homeowner 10-14-03
Date: Oct 15, 2003 1:57 AM
http://www.bergen.com/page.php?qstr=eXJpcnk3ZjcxN2Y3dnFlZUVFeXkxNCZmZ2JlbDdmN3ZxZWVFRXl5NjQzODkzMQ==
Another bear, another shooting, another inquest
Tuesday, October 14, 2003
By JEFFREY PAGE
THE RECORD
THERE ARE SOME animal lovers who would give bears the right to vote and
hold political office. Bears are that wonderful and deserving.
But then there are other people who also genuinely like animals but who
understand that maybe people are more important. And they realize that
as the contact between bears and humans increases, there's a place to
draw the line on animal rights - at Duane Sanders' doorstep.
Sanders of Warwick, N.Y., must explain to a judge why he killed a black
bear that twice chased his children and some neighbor kids, and then
rushed directly at him.
Sanders, 48, a corrections officer at Mid-Orange state prison in
Warwick, lives with his wife and two children in a heavily forested area
of town immediately north of Sterling Forest State Park, where bears are
common.
"You see three, four a day around here," Sanders says. "They go through
and usually just keep going. Ordinarily they don't bother anybody, and
we stay clear of them."
Recently, Sanders and his neighbors noticed a young male, maybe 2 years
old and weighing about 150 pounds, in the neighborhood, which is a group
of homes on a back road that itself is off a slightly larger back road.
They were aware of this bear because it had some kind of growth on its
side, "about the size of a pint container," says Vadnee Jefferson, who
lives next door to Sanders.
Recently, as some kids rode their bikes, the bear appeared and headed
toward a garbage pail. The kids happened to get in its way, and the bear
charged them. That was very unusual - not to mention terrifying -
Sanders says, because bears generally avoid people.
Sanders heard the commotion and ran out of his house. He saw what was
happening, and dashed back to get his hunting rifle. Just then,
Jefferson, a chiropractor with a practice in Englewood, yelled for the
children to get up onto her porch. The kids ran - the bear chasing them
a second time. She got them into her house and closed the door moments
before the bear charged onto the porch.
Soon, the bear trudged off into the woods behind another neighbor's
house but circled around and reappeared in that house's backyard.
Sanders wanted that bear out of there, and says he did all the things
you see on nature shows to make it leave. He shouted at it. He made
scary sounds. He threw rocks at it.
Sanders swears the rifle was for last-ditch protection. It's a good
thing he thought of it.
The bear turned and started for the tree line.
Sanders, relieved, also turned and started back to his house, his back
now to the bear.
Then he heard his wife Laura and Vadnee Jefferson yelling for all they
were worth. The bear had turned again and was pursuing Sanders.
"I saw it and shouted, 'Duane, shoot that bear!' " Jefferson says.
Sanders spun around. The bear was about 10 feet away and closing.
"I aimed and squeezed the trigger," he says. "I hit him." The
bear
retreated behind the house next door, where it let out a terrible cry of
pain.
"It was a horrible thing to hear," Sanders says. He edged a little
closer and administered the coup de grace.
He called the New York Department of Environmental Conservation, one of
whose officers issued Sanders a summons charging him with discharging
firearms within 500 feet of a residence, which is kind of preposterous.
What was Sanders supposed to do, yell "time out" and politely invite the
bear to join him 500 feet away for the final showdown, and may the
better mammal win?
That 500-foot rule is usually applied to careless hunters, not to a man
protecting himself from an angry carnivore with deadly claws and
well-developed teeth.
Sanders got a second ticket - for taking a bear out of season. "Taking"
is an unbloody word for "hunting."
"I wasn't out there hunting," Sanders says in quiet exasperation.
He does hunt, but for deer and in season.
"There are no trophies in my house," Sanders says. "I hunt for the
meat,
nothing else. Hunt bear? Not likely. The meat stinks, and if I ever need
a warm blanket, I'd sooner buy one at Kmart."
Since his bear encounter in late July, Sanders has received four phone
calls from people identifying themselves as animal admirers. All four
calls have been supportive.
"One woman said she loved animals and hated hunting, but understood what
I was up against," Sanders says.
Now, like Patrick Flynn of West Milford who is accused of illegally
shooting a bear that had tried to get into his home, Sanders must try to
convince a judge that he acted in defense of himself, his family, and
some kids from the neighborhood.
New Jersey officials came down heavy on Flynn because, they say, he shot
the bear from behind. That was an easier call for them, of course, than
it was for Flynn. They didn't have a bear on their porch, terrorizing
their families.
Date: Oct 15, 2003 1:57 AM
http://www.bergen.com/page.php?qstr=eXJpcnk3ZjcxN2Y3dnFlZUVFeXkxNCZmZ2JlbDdmN3ZxZWVFRXl5NjQzODkzMQ==
Another bear, another shooting, another inquest
Tuesday, October 14, 2003
By JEFFREY PAGE
THE RECORD
THERE ARE SOME animal lovers who would give bears the right to vote and
hold political office. Bears are that wonderful and deserving.
But then there are other people who also genuinely like animals but who
understand that maybe people are more important. And they realize that
as the contact between bears and humans increases, there's a place to
draw the line on animal rights - at Duane Sanders' doorstep.
Sanders of Warwick, N.Y., must explain to a judge why he killed a black
bear that twice chased his children and some neighbor kids, and then
rushed directly at him.
Sanders, 48, a corrections officer at Mid-Orange state prison in
Warwick, lives with his wife and two children in a heavily forested area
of town immediately north of Sterling Forest State Park, where bears are
common.
"You see three, four a day around here," Sanders says. "They go through
and usually just keep going. Ordinarily they don't bother anybody, and
we stay clear of them."
Recently, Sanders and his neighbors noticed a young male, maybe 2 years
old and weighing about 150 pounds, in the neighborhood, which is a group
of homes on a back road that itself is off a slightly larger back road.
They were aware of this bear because it had some kind of growth on its
side, "about the size of a pint container," says Vadnee Jefferson, who
lives next door to Sanders.
Recently, as some kids rode their bikes, the bear appeared and headed
toward a garbage pail. The kids happened to get in its way, and the bear
charged them. That was very unusual - not to mention terrifying -
Sanders says, because bears generally avoid people.
Sanders heard the commotion and ran out of his house. He saw what was
happening, and dashed back to get his hunting rifle. Just then,
Jefferson, a chiropractor with a practice in Englewood, yelled for the
children to get up onto her porch. The kids ran - the bear chasing them
a second time. She got them into her house and closed the door moments
before the bear charged onto the porch.
Soon, the bear trudged off into the woods behind another neighbor's
house but circled around and reappeared in that house's backyard.
Sanders wanted that bear out of there, and says he did all the things
you see on nature shows to make it leave. He shouted at it. He made
scary sounds. He threw rocks at it.
Sanders swears the rifle was for last-ditch protection. It's a good
thing he thought of it.
The bear turned and started for the tree line.
Sanders, relieved, also turned and started back to his house, his back
now to the bear.
Then he heard his wife Laura and Vadnee Jefferson yelling for all they
were worth. The bear had turned again and was pursuing Sanders.
"I saw it and shouted, 'Duane, shoot that bear!' " Jefferson says.
Sanders spun around. The bear was about 10 feet away and closing.
"I aimed and squeezed the trigger," he says. "I hit him." The
bear
retreated behind the house next door, where it let out a terrible cry of
pain.
"It was a horrible thing to hear," Sanders says. He edged a little
closer and administered the coup de grace.
He called the New York Department of Environmental Conservation, one of
whose officers issued Sanders a summons charging him with discharging
firearms within 500 feet of a residence, which is kind of preposterous.
What was Sanders supposed to do, yell "time out" and politely invite the
bear to join him 500 feet away for the final showdown, and may the
better mammal win?
That 500-foot rule is usually applied to careless hunters, not to a man
protecting himself from an angry carnivore with deadly claws and
well-developed teeth.
Sanders got a second ticket - for taking a bear out of season. "Taking"
is an unbloody word for "hunting."
"I wasn't out there hunting," Sanders says in quiet exasperation.
He does hunt, but for deer and in season.
"There are no trophies in my house," Sanders says. "I hunt for the
meat,
nothing else. Hunt bear? Not likely. The meat stinks, and if I ever need
a warm blanket, I'd sooner buy one at Kmart."
Since his bear encounter in late July, Sanders has received four phone
calls from people identifying themselves as animal admirers. All four
calls have been supportive.
"One woman said she loved animals and hated hunting, but understood what
I was up against," Sanders says.
Now, like Patrick Flynn of West Milford who is accused of illegally
shooting a bear that had tried to get into his home, Sanders must try to
convince a judge that he acted in defense of himself, his family, and
some kids from the neighborhood.
New Jersey officials came down heavy on Flynn because, they say, he shot
the bear from behind. That was an easier call for them, of course, than
it was for Flynn. They didn't have a bear on their porch, terrorizing
their families.
