It was a crisp autumn morning in the northern Japanese region of Akita, and people were on edge.
Commuters — some wearing bells, some carrying cans of repellent spray — walked gingerly down leaf-covered streets. Children had been warned to stay indoors. Parks were sealed off with yellow tape — “Do Not Enter!” — and a menacing silhouette. Troops patrolled nearby mountains, brandishing shields and setting traps. Drones flew overhead.
Akita was on a war footing against a 400-pound, persimmon-loving foe: the Asiatic black bear. The animal has been linked to more than 50 attacks and four deaths in the region this year, part of a nationwide surge of aggression by bears that is testing Japan’s traditional belief in harmonious coexistence with nature.
Bears have injured elderly residents in Akita who were taking out the trash and delivering newspapers. They have sneaked up on mushroom hunters and rice farmers, broken into supermarkets and been spotted on school grounds. One widely circulated video showed an 82-year-old woman being attacked from behind during her morning walk.
“When you cross the street in Akita now, you look right, you look left and then you look for bears,” said Akihiro Suzuki, 65, a retired government worker, as he made his way to the library on a recent day. “You never know when a bear might be around.”
Akita Prefecture, home to about 880,000 people, is on the front line of Japan’s bear crisis, which has penetrated the national psyche and drawn an all-out response from the government. Across the country, nearly 200 people have been attacked by bears this year and 13 have died, a record. Bears have been spotted in northern ski towns and southern villages, and on the outskirts of cities like Tokyo and Kyoto. The United States, Canada and the United Kingdom have recently issued travel warnings about bears in Japan.
Experts have attributed the rise in attacks partly to climate change, with storms wreaking havoc on vegetation like beech trees, which produce the nuts that bears depend on. Bears have grown increasingly brazen in their quest for calories, venturing into urban centers in search of scraps.
Japan’s demographic changes have also exacerbated the problem. Farming communities used to serve as buffers, separating the mountains from more densely inhabited areas. But as Japan’s population shrinks and ages, and as young people move to cities, some rural areas have hollowed out. Bears are moving in, inching closer to human settlements.
In Japan, where mountains and forests make up about 70 percent of the land, bears are considered sacred beings. In Hokkaido, Japan’s northernmost island, which has also seen a spike in attacks, the brown bear is revered as a deity living in the human realm.
But concerns about tradition and conservation have largely been set aside as public anxiety has swelled. The Japanese government sent troops this month to hard-hit areas like Akita to help set traps. Riot police have joined forces with the thinning ranks of hunters to track and kill bears. Drones — including some that emit the sound of barking dogs — have been deployed over parks. A prominent Japanese university recently released a “Bear Encounter AI Prediction Map” to forecast bear activity.
Japan amended its strict gun laws this fall to make it easier for hunters to shoot in residential areas. In Tottori Prefecture, in western Japan, a group of hunters gathered recently to practice shooting a bear in an emergency. Two hunters, holding fake rifles, homed in on the “bear,” which was actually a government worker dressed in black and wearing a mask.
Encounters between humans and bears in Japan are likely to continue, especially in the fall and spring when bears hungriest, before and after they hibernate. The population of bears in Japan has risen in recent years and now exceeds 50,000, experts say, in a country of about 124 million people.
In Akita, the public is learning to adapt. Stores now open later and close earlier. The delivery of mail has been suspended in some areas. Commuters leave their apartments each morning armed with pocket-size bells and bear spray, which contains chili pepper extract that irritates mucous membranes and eyes and can stop a bear’s charge within seconds. Children no longer walk alone to school.
The attacks have brought a somber note to the peak of the fall foliage season, when the region’s fiery maple trees and gold-tinged forests typically draw crowds of carefree, selfie-snapping visitors.
“People have to live their daily lives not knowing when they, their family, co-workers or friends might be attacked,” said Maki Koyama, 50, who works at a cultural center in Akita. “The current situation is one of fear and confusion.”
The government’s effort to exterminate bears — by setting live traps that resemble steel cages and then shooting them — has troubled some traditional hunters, known as matagi. They follow ceremonies meant to return the bears’ spirits to the heavens. In Akita, bear meat is a local specialty at hot pot restaurants, and bear parts were once sold as medicine.
“Both we and the bears are in trouble,” said Hideo Suzuki, 78, a matagi hunter in Akita. “I feel sorry for the bears.”
The ranks of hunters have dwindled in Akita in recent decades, contributing to the rise in the bear population. There were once hundreds of hunters in Mr. Suzuki’s group; now there are only about three dozen. He said it has been difficult to recruit young hunters as rural areas empty out.
“There’s nothing for young people to do here,” he said, “so there’s no need for them to come.”
The arrival of reinforcements in Akita this month is meant to help restore a sense of security and calm. Bears have dominated the national news recently; television channels routinely broadcast safety videos showing what to do in case of an encounter.
Victims of bear attacks are also speaking out, urging a forceful response. Keiji Minatoya, the owner of a confectionery store in Akita, was attacked by a bear in his garage two years ago. The bear tore off a piece of his earlobe; when he looked in the mirror, he could see part of his skull. The bear attacked four other people in his neighborhood that day.
Mr. Minatoya, who still feels some numbness and tingling in his head and has a scar across his face, said that culling the population of bears was a “necessary evil.” He said he wished he could kill and eat the bear that attacked him.
”They’re more aggressive than I thought, and incredibly strong for their size,” he said. “They’re extremely fast, powerful and aggressive.”
In Akita, business owners have seen a decline in foot traffic because, they said, people are too scared to go out. Tourists are still making the trek to the region, but they are shortening itineraries or staying indoors.
“It’s not worth the risk of being eaten,” said Teresa Liu, a visitor from Taiwan.
Senshu Park, known for its cherry trees and cypresses, has been repeatedly closed this fall following bear sightings. Traps have been set up in the park, and workers have flown drones overhead to search for bears.
Around the corner, Rumi Uematsu, 55, manages a toy store and after school program. She worried about the impact of the bear crisis on young children, who already endured the restrictions of the Covid-19 era.
“They have finally regained their freedom,” Ms. Uematsu said, “and now they have to live with anxiety again.”
Ms. Uematsu was awakened one night last month by the growl of a bear outside her home. She nervously opened her window, but the bear was gone.
“We need to think of new countermeasures,” she said. “Right now, all we can do is take emergency steps and hope.”
Javier C. Hernández is the Tokyo bureau chief for The Times, leading coverage of Japan and the region. He has reported from Asia for much of the past decade, previously serving as China correspondent in Beijing.
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