Who's afraid of bears, rattlesnakes and spiders? Not this ‘Grizzled' Pennsylvania author.

PITTSBURGH - A Murrysville, Pa., science author is not afraid of bears or rattlesnakes and wishes more people understood maligned and mysterious wildlife.

Jason Bittel, 42, is the author of "Grizzled: Love Letters to 50 of North America's Least Understood Animals" (National Geographic, $28).

The book is snappy with easily digestible scientific nuggets of insight about bears, bats, alligators, skunks and more.

Bittel grew up in the Laurel Highlands in Acme with an outdoorsy family. He has the kind of mother who made plaster casts from bear prints during a family outing on Chestnut Ridge.

A nationally known nature writer and father of three children, Bittel is the associate director of research communications for Carnegie Mellon University's Dietrich College of Humanities and Social Sciences.

He graduated from Mount Pleasant High School in 2002 and earned a bachelor's degree in English from Allegheny College and a master's degree from the University of Pittsburgh's Creative Nonfiction Program. He was also a project fellow in the Knight Science Journalism Program.

He has written for National Geographic publications and other national media outlets, and is the author of five children's books. In the interest of science and curiosity, Bittel admits in his bio to sniffing sloth turds and recording the anal temperature of an elk.

Bittel aims to understand nature, even the annoying parts, like being swarmed by wasps while eating.

"Who hasn't been stung by yellowjackets?" he asked.

Flailing and swatting at them might make it worse. The angry little wasps survive on sugar water from flowers, excretions of some insect larvae, soda pop, watermelon and other sweet liquid treats, according to Bittel.

"Once you understand why they are in your face, you will fear them less. Knowledge is power."

Why are some skunks just jerks? In a book chapter titled "Chemical Warfare in the Derriere," Bittel writes that skunks, like people, have different personalities, and some are just trigger-happy. Skunks don't just emit a foul odor; they can launch their globular musk 15 feet at you.

There are many misconceptions out there. Bittel recently saw a Facebook post purporting that porcupines can "shoot" quills - they can't.

In his chapter "Licensed to Quill," Bittel likens a single porcupine's prickly armor to 30,000 Swiss Army knives. It gets worse, too. The quills have microscopic barbs that can snag a foe like a fishhook.

Bittel takes issue with the public knowing about, say, charismatic penguins waddling on a frozen hellscape while oblivious to the critters in their own backyards. And it's more than knowledge for knowledge's sake: Being educated in the ways of nature helps ensure safety for people and wildlife.

Wild boars and black bears

Bittel got himself into some trouble when he let his curiosity lead to a close encounter with a black bear.

While volunteering with the Student Conservation Association in the Great Smoky Mountains, Bittel's job duties included trapping and shooting wild boar. The National Park Service has been culling wild hogs because the invasive animals cause extensive damage to the environment and spread disease.

Bittel has always been interested in how animals decompose. He returned to the site where he had shot a boar the day before. It was gone, but Bittel noticed fresh drag marks on the ground.

Then he saw it - a 200-pound black bear with one of the pig's legs in its mouth.

"It was clearly dragging the animal away. I was shocked," he said.

Bittel knew he was too close and slowly backed away, but was still only about 20 feet from the bear.

He stopped, and the bear started to clack its jaws and stomp the ground with its front paw. He realized that the animal was trying to scare him away, so he backed away farther. But it was too little, too late.

The bruin charged him but fortunately stopped abruptly before reaching him. It was a bluff charge. The bear wanted to dine alone. Bittel retreated to safety.

"The lesson is context. I know I made a mistake," he said.

"I should have backed up farther but I was interested in seeing this bear. I should have made myself look bigger by putting my hands in the air and yelling. You want to be big and loud to scare them away."

The bear didn't want to eat him; it already had a meal.

"Bears are not killing machines. Knowing more about an animal and its lifestyle helps us interpret animal behavior," he said.

Bittel's research into grizzly bears sheds light on a different evolutionary trajectory and behavior, which is different from black bears. Grizzlies evolved on treeless plains where they defended their cubs with absolute brute force, he said.

"If you happen to scare a grizzly bear, you are in more danger of being attacked than with my black bear."

Up close with a rattler

He's also had close calls with rattlesnakes. He has almost stepped on them before hearing their warning rattle.

"That sound goes straight down your spine, and everything else around falls away," he said. "Potential death is near, and that is real."

Bittel doesn't pretend that rattlesnakes aren't dangerous. They can be, but people have to remember the context of these reptiles. They often are motionless as they lie in wait for prey.

They do have some endearing traits, he said. Rattlesnake mothers dote on their babies and protect them from predators.

"I'm not particularly afraid of them, but I realize that a rattler can kill me,"

What it can't do is important to remember; they can't leap across the room or chase you, he said.

If you are 10 feet away, you are probably safe. But accidents do happen, Bittel conceded.

"Putting yourself in a safer mindset helps. They are not trying to eat you and don't want to waste their venom on you."

Basically, don't mess with them and get out of their way.

"If you go to Ohiopyle in the summer and go hopping along boulders below Cucumber Falls, there are rattlesnakes all over," Bittel said.

"Be careful where you jump. You can be 10 feet away from one and enjoy yourself and be safe. That is part of living in southwestern Pennsylvania."

One of Bittel's goals in writing this book is to encourage the public to recalibrate its relationship with wildlife.

"You are not going to cuddle a rattlesnake, but you could not kill them either – there's a middle space."

Not what you think

There is unappreciated cuteness out there as well, including North American ringtail, the "night ninja" as Bittel calls it.

The elusive, raccoon-sized mammal with big eyes is found in the south and southwestern United States.

"It should be a plushie on your kids' bed, and most people have never heard of it," he said.

Bittel used to think that the white-tailed deer was one of the most boring animals out there. But there's much more to the doe-eyed mammal than a rack of antlers on the wall.

"We think of deer as they are now, in our backyard, embodying innocence," he said.

Deer have competed with and survived dire wolves and saber-toothed cats. Their range is huge, from the Arctic Circle to Argentina.

Bittel interviewed Jeannine Fleegle, a deer biologist with the Pennsylvania Game Commission, about this seemingly ordinary mammal's distribution range.

"The only place they can't live is in water," she notes in Bittel's book.

"We don't think about the evolutionary trajectory that got the deer here," he said.

They are hardy, too. In winter, deer can fast for up to a month at a time, according to Bittel's book.

He is not afraid of grizzlies, which are unpredictable and "over the top with their ability to commit violence," he said. But he acknowledges that attacks happen and bad things can happen to people even when they are doing everything right.

He doesn't think people should wantonly kill things because they can, such as the spiders known as daddy long legs.

"It's unfortunate so many animals get killed because we fear them or don't properly appreciate them," he said.

Growing up outdoorsy

Bittel is doing what his parents, Kathleen and the late Mark Bittel, envied when they were reading National Geographic magazines at night while their kids slept.

When National Geographic published Bittel's first article a dozen years ago, Kathleen Bittel, 70, of Murrysville, was over the moon.

"He has achieved what we thought was an unattainable goal," she said.

"Jason's forte is that he is careful but carefree at the same time. His writing gives you a chuckle along the way and you don't expect that with science stories."

She is from the generation whose kids went outside in the morning and didn't return home until lunch. The same tradition held when she raised her three children.

"I was that kid who was curious and lifted rocks in streams. I was always in love with nature and animals," Bittel said.

He grew up next to a cow farm, a corn field and the woods, always looking for signs of animals. At his school library, he would check out one of the only two shark books available and rotated borrowing them.

More wildlife information came from his father, a technician for Pitney Bowes, who handled an account with the Pennsylvania Game Commission. His son pored over pamphlets on ring-necked pheasants, ruffed grouse and black bears, and what their droppings look like.

He grew up camping, hiking and whitewater rafting. When he got older, his father taught him how to hunt.

"I've never been very good at it, but loved being in the woods," he said.

Bittel's hunting skills are unchanged, but it doesn't stop him from going out and trying.

When he was young, camping was the ultimate family getaway to places like Cook Forest, which was always affordable. The scene unfolded into a commune with 55 people coming and going, half of them children under 12.

"It was the grandest time of the year. We always had 10 days cutting the cord back when there weren't many cords and electronics," his mother said.

Bonfires and forest stargazing were standard.

"These were experiences unfettered by the world. To be out in nature, you can forget that the rest of the world exists," she said.

"Snipe hunts" were fun and near-annual pranks. The children chased a mythical bird while their fathers and uncles secretly threw objects into the brush to fool the kids into thinking it was a snipe.

The tradition continues to this day as the extended Bittel family is planning a cabin vacation at Keystone Lake State Park in Derry, Westmoreland County, this summer.

Some things never change, which is a joy for the entire extended family.

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Bittel will discuss his book at the Greensburg Barnes & Noble on June 12 at 7 p.m. Information: stores.barnesandnoble.com.

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