We had a mother black bear and two little cubs--one black, one cinnamon phase--come to our campsite early one morning near Mount Baldy in Philmont Scout Ranch, near Cimarron, New Mexico, back around late June in, I think, 1985 or so. We were camped at the edge of a clearing, just next to some woods where the bears apparently came from. We'd taken seriously the warnings to put ALL of our stuff that potentially smelled like bear food--toothpaste, bandaids, deodorant, etc.) up in the burlap bear-bags we hung in trees outside the main tent area. Mama bear apparently left her cubs in the woods, then knocked over a few backpacks. My tentmate and I, who were the Scouts leading our crew, got up before everyone else, and thus were the first ones to encounter the bear. I was in front of the tent, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and trying to figure out what I had to make happen to get breakfast under way, when my tentmate shouted, from near the trees from which he'd just retrieved the bearbags, "THERE'S A BEAR BEHIND ME!" I looked, and there was a bear, about 15-20 feet behind him, stopped on the dirt road that went past the campsite. Tentmate Danny, still holding a burlap bearbag over each shoulder, walked a few paces back toward the camp; the bear likewise took a few steps, then stopped. This happened about twice. The fog clearing from my mind, I shouted, "DROP THE BEARBAGS!" Danny ignored this, and continued his slow, un-panicked return toward the campsite.
Meanwhile, the other, sleeping Scouts had begun to wake up, had figured that there was a bear at the campsite, and were reacting. One of the adult leaders had also awakened by then and was standing in front of his tent, holding his hands out toward the Scouts, saying, "Don't panic! Don't panic!" Actually, panic was the last thing on anybody's mind. I was surprised to see that every single Scout was frantically rummaging through his pack for his camera. I could see the she-bear getting worried as Scout after Scout emerged from the tents, all obviously with attention focused on her, some slowly advancing as they took their pictures. She wheeled around and retreated into the forest. Only after she had left the campsite and returned to the forest did we notice her little cubs with her. The three made their way with apparent unconcern back into the trees and out of sight.
I'm very happy that all ended as well as it did--for a good deal of the time, the mama bear was actually on the far side of our tents from the treeline, where her cubs were. It was also food for thought that none of us saw the two cubs, with our attention focused so much on the mother bear. Another interesting observation: though of course I was very concerned about the bear following Danny, it was also very obvious that she was not stalking him. Curious, yes; hungry, yes--but her demeanor toward him was plainly not that of predator toward prey. Interesting that you could tell. Also interesting was the fact that, though the bear was apparently fairly unintimidated by one or two people, having a dozen or so of them appearing from different quarters did unnerve her enough to make her depart. (The paparazzi-like flicker of camera flashes probably enhanced this effect.)
Finally, it hammered deep into my mind the fact that it is a VERY GOOD IDEA to keep all of one's interesting-smelling-to-bears stuff in such a way that it can easily be removed from one's other gear and hoisted high into a tree a ways away from one's main camp. Ever since, I've always tried to keep my food and food-smelling things like toothpaste, etc. in its own bag, or in a couple of bags, so that I won't forget and leave some yummy-smelling thing deep down in my pack, where it'd attract bears. One reason I don't oil my knives with clove-scented tea oil, as I've heard some people do, for example.