In addition to the engineering cleverness of Yellow-Yellow described above, there are others in the Adirondacks. "Cliff", a bear in the High Peaks region was known to steal backpacks and deliver them to his favored spot at a rocky cliff before destroying them. In some regions you are advised not to hang a bag using a white rope because one or more bears have learned that if they make a paw swipe at a white rope attached to a tree, food will fall from heaven.
In reality, the worst offenders are mice, chipmunks, and squirrels (especially red squirrels as described above) if you camp in a well used campsite, especially at a leanto, then you can expect late night visitors looking to ruin your favorite easily reached bag which may or may not recently have held food inside. They don’t care. Even when I primitive camp in a pristine zero used site that I choose, I will at the very least support my backpack a few feet off the ground up on a small tree within sight of me.
During BSA high adventure trek guide leadership training, the first night out with a group of students was always a treat to observe. The first designated "leader of the day" student being observed in the skills scoring hotseat, among other duties, had to organize all the "smellables" bags of food and crew personal items into one or more bags to hang. Finding the right tree with an outstretched right height acceptably heavy branch at the right distance from our campsite area was the adventure to behold. OK, so who can throw the rope over the branch? Find a suitable throwing weight to tie to the rope. Throw overhand or underhand.? The jocks would attempt a throw overhand first, how many tries and misses? NEXT…
Maybe underhand would work better. Don't get your (or someone else’s) water bottle, worse yet a boot (I have seen these), a stick or rock get stuck with the rope wedged in the tree crotch. The best one ever was when a fellow instructor, my buddy Keith came up with the ultimate solution. He tied a heavy metal washer to fishing line and with a slingshot fired it at great speed, heading to nicely to go over a good branch. When the slack ground line got stuck on something, the washer returned at equally great speed, right onto poor Keith's forehead. Ouch. After that I gave Keith the nickname of "Shiffer". Why you might ask? Because he was really smart. He had shiffer brains.
