Florida’s bear necessity: Learn to live with wildlife, and leave it room to roam | Editorial

He was young and wild, showing off for the paparazzi in downtown Orlando and causing a stir as perhaps the only adolescent male in the city to refuse a tasty pile of doughnuts. Countless local residents tagged him on Facebook, Twitter and other platforms. Two of the area’s most popular politicians gave him hashtag-worthy names — with Orlando Mayor Buddy Dyer opting for BooBoo and State Rep. Anna Eskamani going for Blaze.

But the juvenile bear who spent three days tree-hopping in Lake Eola Park finally succumbed to the lure of pastry after wildlife officers added syrup, and his teenage dream of an influencer career ended with the snap of a trap door closing. As the Sentinel’s Jeff Weiner reported, the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission plans to release him safely in the Ocala National Forest and, presumably, into the humdrum life of doing whatever it is that bears do in the woods.

That’s where Blaze McBooBoo really belongs. But the ultimate plot twist of his brief brush with fame is that he really isn’t that unusual. A map listing hundreds of bear sightings over the past five years on the FWC website reveals that bears go pretty much everywhere — hanging out like the world’s shaggiest Uber Eats driver on the porch of a Winter Garden apartment; chilling by a pool near the Orlando International Airport or side-eyeing a sleek black SUV in Maitland.

The same goes for other once-shy wildlife. It was once a rare wonder to glimpse sandhill cranes engaged in their graceful, leggy mating dances; now they get their groove on in the parking lots of Hobby Lobbies. Wood storks and roseate spoonbills can be spotted hanging out in roadside ditches, opossums stand their ground in apartment laundry rooms and it’s not uncommon to be confronted by the OG urban wildlife: Gangs of cute but vaguely menacing racoons.

Nice hamburger you got there. Be a shame if something happened to it.

This may not be the way things should be. But it’s the way things are, and humans have to learn to live with it in two ways.

Leave room to roam

The bigger-picture task is to fight hard to save Florida’s remaining areas of wild habitat. There’s a lot to be proud of already: State officials have identified a “conservation corridor” that spans 18 million acres where bears, birds, bobcats and other iconic Florida wildlife can roam. Through programs such as Florida Forever, 10 million of those acres have already been protected through public ownership or long-term conservation easements, with the rest privately owned but undeveloped. Securing as much of that land as possible makes sense, and Sen. Jason Brodeur, R-Longwood successfully pushed through legislation in the recent session to do exactly that.

But recently, we’re seeing a potential Achilles heel. Conservation easements are supposed to protect wildlife habitat by paying a landowner for the future development rights to property, while allowing low-impact uses like tree farms or cattle grazing. Those deals, once signed, are supposed to remain in place forever and are currently protecting millions of acres of land. With some parcels, however, those rights have been given back, opening the land for development again. Florida lawmakers should close any loophole that allows these permanent easements to be abandoned: As vast as this preservation effort sounds, it’s not enough to support healthy populations of the wildlife that once had free reign over the entire state.

Be a good neighbor

That brings us to the second challenge: Like the 1,000 new humans that arrive in Florida each day, many species of wildlife have developed a taste for the Margaritaville suburbs and have even begun to move into downtowns across the state.

Part of that is necessity. Efforts to conserve habitat are racing against new, sprawling developments to accommodate those people, but when land is cleared for new growth, it can leave wildlife with nowhere to go. So it stays put — and learns that co-existence with humans has its perks, including overflowing garbage-can buffets and backyard swimming pools that beckon frogs, snakes and the occasional alligator.

In some cases — such as the astonishing adaptation of wood storks — rapidly evolving to thrive in human-dominated spaces may have led to some species’ survival. But the co-existence isn’t always peaceful. Too many wild animals become roadkill. Others succumb to diseases, become prey for domesticated cats and dogs or suffer from poor nutrition. Trapping and releasing wildlife doesn’t always work, and some species pose a threat to human safety.

Environmental officials are becoming more skilled at managing wildlife in human-inhabited areas, and we doubt we’ll see a return of measures such as 2015’s disastrous plan to curb bear populations with a statewide hunt.

But all Floridians should remember that the wildlife was here first. Protective measures, such as garbage cans with locking lids and careful driving in areas where wildlife is commonly spotted, can help minimize the danger. But it’s only part of a greater responsibility of conservation, including a renewed commitment to fight the careless sprawl into areas that should be protected. That’s the best way to safeguard the lives of all Florida’s inhabitants — including those with fins, feathers, fur and scales.

The Orlando Sentinel Editorial Board consists of Opinion Editor Krys Fluker, Editor-in-Chief Julie Anderson and Viewpoints Editor Jay Reddick. Contact us at insight@orlandosentinel.com