KTLA’s Jillian Smukler reported a story that sounds funny for about five seconds – until you picture it happening to you. A massive California black bear, estimated at about 550 pounds, had been living under a home in Altadena for more than a month, tucked into the crawlspace like it owned the deed.
Smukler framed it as the kind of “unwanted house guest” nobody can ignore, because you don’t just shrug off the sound of a bear shifting around beneath your floors at night.
And for homeowner Ken Johnson, she made clear it wasn’t a cute wildlife moment anymore – it was a daily stressor that lingered through the holidays and dragged on long enough to wear him down.
Johnson told Smukler he felt “relieved” once the bear finally left, because there was “no more banging under the house and smelling him and wondering what’s going on under there.”
That one sentence captures the reality better than any dramatic music ever could: the constant noise, the constant smell, and the constant question of what might happen next.
And if you’ve ever had a raccoon in an attic, multiply that anxiety by about five hundred pounds and add claws.
A Month Of Attempts, And A Lot Of Agencies
Smukler said this situation didn’t end quickly because multiple agencies were involved and it turned into a long-running struggle. She noted the bear had essentially been “living its best life” under the house, while Johnson was the one paying for it in stress, disruption, and fear of property damage.
In her reporting, Smukler described how the state’s wildlife officials had already tried to remove the bear several times and came up empty. Johnson told her those early efforts felt like a stop-and-start process – people would show up, try tactics, and still the bear wouldn’t budge.
According to Johnson’s account to Smukler, California Department of Fish and Wildlife used tools like paintball guns and other “irritation” tactics to try to push the bear out.
Smukler also described how the state’s efforts took time, and yet they still didn’t get the result the homeowner desperately needed.
Then there was a twist that made Johnson sound even more frustrated: he told Smukler the state team pulled away after being told by “top dogs in Sacramento” to stop. In other words, it wasn’t only about the bear being stubborn – Johnson felt like bureaucracy became part of the problem too.
That’s the part that would make most homeowners feel powerless, because you’re staring at a real problem in your real house, but the decision-making is happening somewhere far away, in offices you’ll never see.
The Bear League Shows Up, And The Whole Thing Changes
Smukler reported that the breakthrough came from a nonprofit wildlife rescue group called the BEAR League, based in Lake Tahoe. Johnson told her they contacted him directly and offered to help at no cost, which is not something most people expect when they’re stuck in a months-long wildlife mess.
In Smukler’s telling, the BEAR League came down, went into the crawlspace area, and moved fast. Johnson said they used similar methods to what the state had used – paintball guns to irritate and motivate the bear – yet the difference was stunning.
Johnson told Smukler that once the BEAR League team crawled in behind the bear, it was “boom, he was out,” and the whole exit took about 10 minutes. Smukler highlighted how the speed almost shocked Johnson more than the bear itself, because he had been watching drawn-out attempts for weeks.
He told her he “couldn’t believe it was so fast,” and even missed getting video because it happened so quickly. That detail matters, because it shows the outcome wasn’t just “the bear eventually left.” It was “the bear left immediately once the right people showed up with a plan that worked.”
Smukler explained that the BEAR League specializes in these situations, and that their bigger goal is often to prevent bears from being euthanized by helping people handle the conflict in a way that doesn’t end with an animal being killed.
That goal makes sense, and it’s also practical: once a bear becomes “a problem bear,” pressure rises fast.
The Moment He Came Out: Cute Face, Massive Body
One of the most vivid parts of Smukler’s report came when she asked Johnson what it looked like when the bear finally emerged. Johnson described that moment like a reminder slap—he said he had almost “forgot how big he was” until he saw the full “mass” come out.
Johnson told Smukler that it’s easy to focus on the bear’s face, because bears can look almost cartoonish when they’re peeking out. But once the whole animal is moving, the tone changes instantly: it’s big, fast, destructive, and powerful enough to do real harm without even trying.
Smukler’s coverage leaned into that contrast in a smart way. The story is not “a bear is cute,” and it’s not “a bear is a monster.” It’s that wildlife conflicts are messy because both things can be true depending on the moment you’re watching.
A 550-pound bear isn’t a villain, but it also isn’t a neighborhood pet. It’s a wild animal that can rip apart a crawlspace, damage gas lines, and scare a homeowner into turning off basic utilities just to feel safe.
The Bear Came Back – And Hit A Shock Surprise
Just when it seemed like the story was neatly wrapped, Smukler reported the bear came back later, which honestly feels like the most believable part of all. Animals follow habits, and if a crawlspace felt like a safe den for weeks, it’s not shocking that the bear tried to return.
Smukler described how Johnson had boarded up the opening and placed an electrified mat over the entrance. Johnson explained to Smukler that it’s similar to an electric fence setup used for livestock – uncomfortable, startling, and designed to teach an animal, “Nope, not here.”
Johnson told Smukler the bear stepped on the mat, got that “little surprise,” and immediately backed off and ran. Smukler made it clear this wasn’t about hurting the bear; it was about creating a strong enough deterrent to stop the repeat behavior.
Then Smukler added another tense image: Johnson filmed the bear outside the home afterward, including a moment where the bear came up near the house and even looked through a window. Johnson told her it had been near his bedroom door and then came right up to the den window.
That’s the kind of thing that makes people’s stomach drop, because it turns the bear from “under the house” to “right there.”
Johnson also mentioned to Smukler that his cat—named “Ground”—played a role in that moment, and that the cat’s movement seemed to help break the bear’s focus before it wandered off. It’s an oddly normal detail inside a completely abnormal story, and it makes the scene feel real.
Damage, Disruption, And The Hidden Cost Of “Just A Bear”
Smukler didn’t treat this as a quirky nature clip. She emphasized how much disruption the bear caused, especially because Johnson said he had turned off his gas on Christmas Eve and had been avoiding normal hot water use, relying on sponge baths instead.
That’s not a small inconvenience. That’s living around the problem, day after day, while hoping nothing gets worse.
Johnson told Smukler that under the house, there was major damage: ductwork ripped up, and he said the bear stepped on gas lines and twisted them near the meter. He described needing someone to come out and check everything once lines were strapped back up, because he didn’t even know what else might be damaged beneath the floor.
He also addressed one of the classic internet hot takes – people telling him he should have covered the opening better. Johnson told Smukler the hole was covered, but the bear “ripped it out,” which is exactly what you’d expect from an animal built like a wrecking ball with a fur coat.
Smukler also used this part of the story to underline a practical takeaway: in bear country, crawlspaces and access points matter. If a bear finds a quiet, protected spot under a home, it can turn into a den before you realize what’s happening.
And once a bear decides, “This is home,” you’re not dealing with a casual visitor anymore.
What This Says About Living With Wildlife Now
Smukler’s report quietly points to a bigger reality that’s hard to ignore: human neighborhoods and wildlife territories overlap more than people want to admit. Bears aren’t reading city lines. They’re following food, shelter, and safety.
This is also why the BEAR League’s approach matters. As Smukler explained, their mission is partly about teaching coexistence and preventing euthanasia, which sounds soft until you realize it’s often the only workable path in densely populated areas. If every conflict ends in killing an animal, you don’t solve the underlying issue – you just repeat it with the next bear.
At the same time, Johnson’s experience shows why “coexistence” can feel like a slogan when you’re the one stuck without gas, worried about structural damage, and waking up to sounds beneath your floors.
It’s easier to preach patience when you’re not the homeowner calling repair people and wondering whether a 550-pound animal will come back tonight.
Smukler balanced that tension well by letting Johnson’s frustration show while still emphasizing that the bear was removed safely and appeared unharmed.
A Happy Ending – With A Big Asterisk
By the end of Smukler’s coverage, the central win was clear: the bear is no longer living under Ken Johnson’s house, and that alone is a huge relief. Johnson called it a “late Christmas gift,” and you can hear why – this was a problem that hijacked his home life for weeks.
But Smukler also made it clear the aftermath is still unfolding. The bear returning once already proves that eviction isn’t always permanent, and Johnson still has to deal with whatever damage sits hidden beneath the floorboards.
For now, the bear is out, the crawlspace is blocked, and the deterrents worked when the bear came back. That’s the kind of “victory” that feels real in the moment, even if it comes with the nervous thought every homeowner in bear country has: Please don’t let this be round two.
And if nothing else, Smukler’s report leaves you with one blunt takeaway – if you ever hear heavy “banging” under your house and smell something you can’t explain, you might want to check sooner rather than later. Because sometimes the thing living under your home isn’t a stray cat.
Sometimes it’s a 550-pound bear that decided you were the one who needed to move.
Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, John developed a love for the great outdoors early on. With years of experience as a wilderness guide, he’s navigated rugged terrains and unpredictable weather patterns. John is also an avid hunter and fisherman who believes in sustainable living. His focus on practical survival skills, from building shelters to purifying water, reflects his passion for preparedness. When he’s not out in the wild, you can find him sharing his knowledge through writing, hoping to inspire others to embrace self-reliance.
