A short while after researching that article, I went camping with my friend John in the Adirondacks, to a place where black bears are known to roam. On the first night, sitting by the campfire, I had bears on the brain. I wasn't looking forward to the long night alone in my tent. My goal was to keep John awake and talking for as late as I could--but the only thing I could seem to talk about was bears. I rattled off all the disturbing facts I'd learned and retold a few of the more gruesome attack stories. After a while, John casually agreed that being eaten by a black bear would not be fun, and then strolled over to his tent.