Florida bear hunters accused of taking cash payoffs from activists to skip tagging bears during state population hunt

Claudia Nichols of FOX10 News says the official count is now locked in for Florida’s black bear hunt, and the final number is lower than many people expected. Nichols reports the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission, known as the FWC, confirmed 52 bears were killed during a 23-day hunt.

Nichols also points out the bigger context: 172 permits were issued through a lottery system. That means the state authorized far more possible harvests than what actually happened.

Grace Velez of WMBB News 13 tells it in a similar way. She reports the hunt was Florida’s first black bear hunt in nearly a decade, and it ended with the same final harvest number—52 bears.

Both reporters frame the result as a story of two forces colliding. On one side, state wildlife officials pushing a population-management hunt. On the other, animal advocacy groups pushing back in a way that didn’t look like protests in the street, but more like strategy and money.

And that’s where this story takes a sharp turn, because the “hunt” wasn’t only happening in the woods. It was also happening in bank transfers, tag purchases, and private conversations between activists and permit holders.

The Cash Offer That Changed The Math

Nichols says opposition “really ramped up” after the FWC approved the rules for another hunt in August and permits went on sale. In her FOX10 report, Nichols describes bear advocates stepping in and buying up dozens of tags, and she says one nonprofit even offered hunters thousands of dollars to give up their permits.

Nichols identifies that nonprofit as Bear Warriors United, and she names the group’s founder, Katrina Shadix, as the person who led the effort.

Nichols reports Shadix and her group offered hunters $2,000 before the hunt, asking them to turn in tags and spare bears. Nichols then shares Shadix’s estimate of the response: “Over 37 reached out and were interested in taking the money,” Shadix says in Nichols’ reporting, adding that “tens of thousands of dollars was paid out.”

Velez gives the same idea but with more detail and tighter numbers. She reports Shadix said she paid 14 hunters who received permits, totaling $31,000, to not use their tag.

Velez also reports Shadix confirmed 43 additional bear advocates entered the lottery and successfully got permits with the goal of limiting harvests. That’s not hunters being “bought,” exactly – it’s activists playing the same lottery game, then sitting on the permits.

Nichols includes a quote that almost sounds like it belongs in a different kind of story: “Even bear hunters are willing to take a few bucks to not kill a bear.” It’s a blunt line, and it captures the strange reality here—money was used, not to encourage killing, but to discourage it.

It’s important to say this cleanly: based on Nichols’ and Velez’s reporting, the payments were described as buyouts to surrender or not use permits, not secret bribes to break rules. 

Still, when cash starts moving around a state-sanctioned wildlife hunt, you can understand why people on every side start asking hard questions about ethics, fairness, and what a permit is really worth.

The Shadow Of 2015 Still Hangs Over This

Nichols and Velez both bring up the same comparison, and it’s doing a lot of work in their reporting: 2015.

Nichols describes the decade-ago hunt with a phrase Shadix uses on camera: “In 2015, it was an absolute slaughter fest.” Nichols reports that in 2015, over 300 bears were killed in a span of two days.

That old hunt is clearly the emotional reference point for activists. Even if you support hunting in general, “300 in two days” sticks in people’s minds as the kind of headline that can haunt an agency for years.

Nichols says Shadix credits the FWC’s lottery system for limiting the damage this time. Instead of a fast stampede of kills, the system restricted permits and stretched the season, which in turn seems to have lowered the body count.

Velez also reports that only about one-third of permit holders killed a bear during the hunt. In other words, even among people who won the lottery, most didn’t end up harvesting an animal.

Some of that may be normal hunting reality—weather, access, skill, luck. But Nichols and Velez both say advocacy pressure clearly played a role, especially with paid tag turn-ins and activists buying permits simply to keep them unused.

My own take: if Florida wanted a controlled hunt that didn’t look like a public-relations disaster, then the lower number is going to be used as a shield. But for critics, the lower number is going to be used as proof that the hunt wasn’t necessary in the first place, or that the state’s data and planning were shaky.

Same number. Two totally different stories.

What The State Says And What Critics Hear

Velez says the controversy wasn’t only about the killings themselves. She reports many advocates were frustrated over a lack of updates from the FWC during the hunt, and that officials released the final harvest number after weeks of little to no public information.

Velez also reports the FWC maintained the hunt would be an effective way to manage the bear population in the state. She names FWC Executive Director Roger Young, who called the hunt a success.

She also names FWC Chief Conservation Officer George Warthen, who said the hunt is the way to help bears “succeed in the long run.” That’s the agency argument in plain language: fewer conflicts, healthier management, controlled harvest, long-term stability.

Nichols, in her FOX10 report, adds details on enforcement and compliance. She says the FWC reported only one hunter received a warning for a minor violation, and there were no citations. Nichols contrasts that with 2015, when there were 20 warnings and six citations.

Velez repeats that enforcement picture too, reporting only one warning and no citations, and describing interactions between officers and hunters as “pleasant.”

From the state’s point of view, those details matter. Low harvest, low violations, calm enforcement – officials can present that as a regulated season that didn’t spiral.

But from the critics’ point of view, it can sound like the state is grading itself on behavior during a hunt they believe never should have happened. If you think the data was incomplete, if you think the hunt was rushed, then “pleasant interactions” is not the standard you’re looking for.

The Lawsuit And The Bigger Fight Ahead

Nichols reports Shadix says the hunt might be over, but the fight is not. Nichols says Shadix is now taking legal action, and she quotes Shadix saying, “We want to honor those 52 bears that were slain,” and that her legal team and members are “working harder than ever” to win a lawsuit against the FWC.

Velez adds that Bear Warriors United filed a lawsuit after the hunt was approved in August. She reports that although the lawsuit didn’t stop the hunt, the results encouraged activists to keep pushing.

Velez also includes another voice: Chuck O’Neal, president of Speak Up Wekiva Inc., who says, “We put a sizeable dent in their kill numbers.” That line matters because it shows how these groups are framing the outcome as a tactical win, not just a sad ending.

Nichols ends with a forward-looking note from the state side too. She reports the FWC says a full report and analysis of the data collected during the hunt will be released in the coming months, and wildlife officials warn residents that conflict prevention and bear management practices still need to continue.

So this isn’t closing. It’s just shifting phases.

Here’s what I think is most interesting – and honestly, most unsettling – about the whole thing: both sides now have a blueprint. Activists learned that buying permits and paying hunters can dramatically cut harvest numbers. State officials learned that a lottery, long season, and tight checks can keep a hunt from turning into a chaotic bloodbath headline.

That means the next fight won’t just be about bears. It’ll be about systems. If permits can be bought to stop a hunt, agencies may try to change rules. If agencies can restart hunts with “management” language, activists may keep building bigger war chests to block harvests indirectly.

And somewhere in the middle sits the average Floridian who just wants fewer dangerous bear encounters near homes, fewer sensational stories, and a wildlife policy that feels honest.

Nichols and Velez make it clear the 2025 hunt ended with 52 bears harvested. But the real story may be what happens next – when both sides show up for the next round with money, lawyers, and lessons learned.