Florida’s Most Civilized Rebellion: The Great Bear Permit Buyout

Florida, land of hurricanes, sinkholes, and legislation inspired by a fever dream, has done it again — and this time, it involves bears, bureaucracy, and a level of pettiness that deserves a standing ovation.

In preparation for the upcoming Florida black bear hunt, more than 160,000 lottery chances were sold at $5 each for a mere 172 permits statewide. But instead of camo-clad hunters lining up to claim their furry trophies, something magical — and deliciously ironic — happened: animal lovers out-hunted the hunters.

The Great Permit Heist

Led by Speak Up Wekiva, the Sierra Club, and a league of righteous suburban warriors armed with credit cards and a moral compass, thousands of bear-hunt opponents bought up as many lottery chances as they could — just to sit on the permits like dragons guarding a hoard of unused bear tags.

They estimate they snagged between 40 and 50 permits, effectively turning the state’s bear hunt into an expensive group protest. It’s the eco-activist version of scalping concert tickets — only this time, the headliner is “Mother Nature,” and everyone’s trying not to get backstage.

“It Was Worth It If I Could Save a Bear’s Life”

Meet Arlene Marie of Orlando, patron saint of woodland creatures and Visa points. She dropped $200 on forty lottery entries and won a permit in the southern “Bear Harvest Zone.” Instead of heading for the woods with a rifle, she’s proudly keeping it framed — a certificate of moral superiority.

“It was worth it if I could save a bear’s life,” she said, eyes glistening with conviction (and possibly the glow of her computer screen after hours of FWC website refreshes). She adds that since the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission (FWC) won’t finish its bear population study until around 2030, the hunt isn’t justified.

Translation: “You don’t get to declare open season on Yogi until you know how many Yogis you’ve got.”

Enter the Science Guy

Then there’s Thomas Allison of Ocala, who apparently majored in Biology and Baller Moves. He spent over $600 on entries and proudly won a permit — which he also refuses to use. Instead, he’ll let it sit in a drawer, perhaps next to his “I Told You So” mug.

“I’m a science guy,” Allison said, which is how you know he definitely has a telescope somewhere in his house. “Their scientists said the population study won’t be done until 2030. So I figured, let’s wait.”

He’s not wrong — but it’s also the kind of logic that makes hunters grind their teeth loud enough to scare off wildlife.

Flashback to the 2015 Bear Hunt Disaster

For those who blocked it out, Florida’s last bear hunt in 2015 lasted about as long as a TikTok trend — two days. Hunters hit the quota so fast it made national headlines and local biologists’ blood pressure spike. Cubs were orphaned, lactating females were shot, and the general consensus was, “Wow, that escalated quickly.”

This time around, environmentalists are making sure history doesn’t repeat itself — by quite literally buying up the opportunity to prevent it. Capitalism has never been used so beautifully against itself.

The Real Winner: Irony

So here we are in 2025 — in a state where saving wildlife means outbidding hunters in a government-run lottery. You can’t make this up.

Somewhere, a bear is happily pawing through a garbage can in peace, blissfully unaware that its life was spared by a credit card transaction from an Ocala science enthusiast and an Orlando woman who really, really likes nature documentaries.

And honestly, if this isn’t the most poetic act of civil disobedience in Florida history, I don’t know what is.

Moral of the story: In Florida, the pen may not be mightier than the sword — but the debit card definitely is.