More than two million people visit Cades Cove each year. Traveling the one-way, 11-mile loop road, those visitors easily access restored home sites and churches dating from the 1800s and early 1900s, as well as trailheads to popular destinations such as Abrams Falls. Driving the loop road at a leisurely pace allows one to go back in time to the high point in Cades Cove history when it was a thriving mountain farming community of around 130 families. Even after the Cove became part of the Park in 1934, a few residents remained. But by 1944, most had moved out and the last remaining school in the Cove was closed. Long before the area was settled by whites, Native Americans--principally Cherokee--hunted deer, bear, elk and bison in the Cove. Some Cherokee trails into and out of the area are still visible.

Elk and bison are long gone from Cades Cove, but healthy populations of whitetail deer and black bear remain. Deer are much more visible, but glimpsing a bear represents the wildlife viewing highlight for many. Old Cherokees said that bears transform people, and some probably believed the legend. Regardless, it is no fiction that bears were valuable to the Cherokee. They ate the bears' flesh, and rendered their fat into a clear oil that they sweetened with herbs and sassafras and stored in pottery jars. The Indians dipped venison in the oil and also used it to anoint themselves. They used bear gut to string bows, and in cold weather, they covered themselves with bearskin blankets. Today, except for fear and anger that arise when a bear plunders a car or camper, the bears are generally viewed with amusement and affection. They can be dangerous, obviously, but they have never killed a human in the Cove.

Bears spend more time in the forests surrounding the Cove than out in the open. Nevertheless, they often visit open areas in search of food, such as acorns in fall. This cub, accompanied by its mom, were foraging for fallen nuts beneath a large oak. After consuming the easier-to-reach fallen acorns, and almost as if by unspoken agreement (or more likely, command from mom), they simultaneously ascended the tree, one on each side. Baby was distracted by the dozens of humans gathered near the base of the tree; mama bear ignored the gawkers and concentrated on the tree's tasty morsels. My primary photographic problem was avoiding being jostled by fellow humans, and finding a shooting angle to include the bear in context, while excluding human heads from the frame.