Over the years, I’ve had an appreciable number of encounters with the wild inhabitants of the Allegheny National Forest and the surrounding area.

A good many of these remain etched in my memory as unique experiences which would never have occurred in the suburban environment where I spend most of my time.

(I have cited some of these experiences before but here is a brief rundown.)

Virtually all these encounters I had when alone, as a solitary person is apt to be more aware of his or her immediate environment, and the wildlife one might view are less apt to scatter beforehand at the approach of more than one person, particularly if they are chatting.

An exception to this was one of the two times that I came across a black bear while on excursions.

This was during an outing with the Allegheny Outdoor Club somewhere south of Heart’s Content. The bear made a noisy passage through the brush as it headed off to the right of where the group was headed.

However, it encountered a tall chain link deer exclusion fence which it climbed with alacrity, dropped to the other side, and continued its flight. I, for one, was amazed at the ease (and speed) with which this large animal accomplished this.

The only other time when I encountered a black bear was actually at the conclusion of a short outing up the Tanbark Trail from a trailhead on Route 62 north of where we, at the time, had a camper trailer at Cloverleaf Campgrounds to the south.

It was midmorning, and I was just down off the trail, and had entered my car and was starting to drive back south on Route 62 when a large bear crossed in front of the car after it had probably had a drink from the river below.

I stopped the car and pulled to the side and watched as the bear climbed a short distance up the river bank where it stood on its hind legs next to a tree and looked down at me.

I motioned for a car coming behind me to stop and remarked to the solitary driver through our mutually open windows “Do you see the bear?”

“What bear?” he inquired. “That one right there,” I replied pointing to the bear.

Well, I’ll be doggoned,” remarked the driver before continuing on his way as the bear got back down on all four legs and moved on up the bank of the river.

The shoreline of the Allegheny River off Cloverleaf Campgrounds was the scene of what was probably the most amazing and even poignant incident involving wildlife I have ever witnessed in all my years of seasonal residence along the river.

I had taken my usual canoe ride down the river from our cabin at Althom and had just crossed the river to the east side when I noticed a small but very disturbed flock of Canada geese gathered a few feet off the shore.

All the geese but one moved a few feet off as I approached. I noticed that the solitary goose appeared to have its head stuck below the river’s surface.

Since the water was fairly clear, I quickly saw what the problem was when I reached the stricken bird.

A foot or so below the surface, a large snapping turtle, apparently intent on having goose for dinner that day and beyond, held the goose’s beak in its jaws.

As I stared down at it, the turtle released its hold on the bird, which must have been close to drowning, and disappeared into the depths, whereupon the freed bird rejoined its flock where it received a joyful reception.

That incident and one other made me realize that my habit of swimming in the Allegheny might not be as safe as I had heretofore believed.

The second incident happened on the other side of the river from where the turtle snagged the goose. It is where Conklin Run enters the river.

While paddling along the west shore, I noticed a large sinuous shape making its way toward the shoreline.

I, at first, thought that it was too large to be a snake, but it was indeed a large snake, and as I approached it reached the shore and slithered up to a small plateau where it formed itself into a coil and looked out at me.

Its coloration was very dark from being in the river, but I imagine that it was a rattlesnake. Whatever type of snake it was, it certainly was a more ominous presence than the mink, muskrats, wood ducks and the occasional beaver that I often see along this stretch of shoreline below Game Lands 86.

This incident reminded me of an encounter my wife and I had while vacationing a good many years ago at Lake George, that beautiful and pristine lake at the edge of the Adirondacks Mountains north of Albany.

While staying at a cabin close to the busy commercial southern end of the lake, we would occasionally load our canoe on our car and travel half way up the shore of the lake where we would launch the craft and paddle north along the lake’s scenic western shore.

The weather was warm, and I would occasionally go for a swim off the canoe.

During one of these swims, a fellow in a motorboat stopped alongside me and remarked that what I was doing was risky.

“Rattlesnakes come down off the mountain and hunt along this shore,” he said, referring to the low ridge of the Adirondacks that rose above where we were canoeing.

I thanked him and continued my swim, thinking that he was probably just repeating a local “old wives’ tale.” However, after we resumed our canoe ride, I did see some sort of snake swimming along the shore.

The snake I saw at the mouth of Conklin Run was certainly one of the most impressive creatures I have seen in my Allegheny River valley jaunts.

But undoubtedly the most beautiful was the red fox I came upon while walking along the edge of the so-called “bean field” in Irvine, part of the former Newbold Estate.

The fox was intent on hunting mice, and didn’t see me until I was quite close to it.

It then took off at high speed toward the woods that border Althom Road to the west. The grass in the field was not yet too high, and I could follow the fox’s flight with ease, particularly since the animal was closer to being a bright yellow than red.

I have never heard of a “yellow fox,” but I had seen one.

Robert Stanger has lived seasonally for over 40 years along the Allegheny River and has the stories to tell about it.