The land isn't what you would call multiple-use land for that reason, at least beyond the multiple uses established by humans. Omnivorous garbage eaters, like us. And occasionally a bear finds a bit of rotten carrion or maybe he eats a live range cow just for the hell of it. You find the bear at daybreak among the rocks and ponderosas and he has almost stripped the large-jawed trap off his foot from running and jerking and bounding back and forth against the chain. The foot is peeled forward over the toes like a glove half-removed from a naked hand.
Freedom is scant.
You recall the look before - old coyotes you've killed in traps, reading your thoughts, querying your intent through careful study of your eyes, looking for something familiar there. But the coyotes seldom acted frantic, were only resigned to something inevitable, but with a flicker of recognition the moment they interpreted your intent. For you and the bear and the coyote, it's like growing up too fast. From here along the highway, the mountain doesn't look like bear country - you think it's cow country.