Three-year-old RC (stands for right check for the blaze on the right side of her chest) probably did not have cubs. 

We had hoped for cubs when she denned up in September, which is a typical time for pregnant females to begin hibernating here.  However, after she apparently was disturbed from that den during deer hunting season in mid-November, we wondered if she would burn too many calories finding a new den to still be able to produce cubs in January.  She spent the next several weeks moving about trying to make dens. 

She moved a couple miles in late November and settled in an area where she raked a nest of leaves and conifer needles.  She next tried to excavate a burrow, but she hit too many rocks a couple feet down. 

In late December, she moved a couple hundred yards to the edge of a cedar swamp that was protected on three sides by rock outcrops.  By that time, though, the ground was too frozen to dig a burrow and the snow was too deep to rake an insulative bed of leaves. 

Today, we set out to learn what she did at that location.  It was a crisp day (zero fahrenheit) that was unusually beautiful.  Hoar frost made every twig sparkle as the sun rose.   We hiked a four-wheeler trail until the signal direction made us leave it.  

The beeps from her collar grew louder as we slowly approached, straining for any glimpse of black--fur or a den entrance.  In a thicket of cedar and young balsam fir trees, it looked unusually dark under a fallen aspen.  There she was.  This was our first good look at RC out in the forest. 

In the three years that we have known her, we have never been able to see her in the woods except for a glimpse at her first den this fall.  At the Field Station in summer, she allows us to fit her with radio-collars and get her onto a scale.  In the woods, all we detect is a fading radio-signal.  We watched quietly from 20 feet away for over 20 minutes as she lay shivering on the bare ground, burning calories, huddled near the upturned roots of the fallen tree.  She kept her head tucked under her chest, conserving heat, and did not raise her head to look at us.  We heard no cubs. 

Most cubs are born in mid-January, but a few are born in early February.  It is also possible that she was brooding cubs that were sleeping.  We returned to the Field Station and marked the den on the aerial photo that covers one wall.  We'll return and listen for cubs again in a couple weeks.