I killed two yotes, yesterday, in a restart field. Pelts ain't prime, but they needed killin'. They were on a neighbor's ranch, about 1/4 mile from pastured beefers. Just happened to be goin' fishin', and they met my gaze. Clean kills- one stood, the other didn't run far.
Now, see there? You didn't KNOW you were gonna need to do that, but you went out there prepared anyway; and had the right tool close at hand. If everyone were as levelheaded as you, we wouldn't read many stories like this one.
You go up into the Sierra Nevada to camp, you'll go prepared to sanitize your campsite of all traces of food before you bed down, or you'll be rudely awakened by a local bear stopping by for a midnight snack. If you're fortunate, your ursine guest will be satisfied with your careless offerings and leave your soft, but crunchy body alone, cowering in your tent. As a last-ditch, maybe the fould smell from your freshly soild Fruit of the Loom's will deter the interloper. Only a fool would risk it, though. Down in the campgrounds in Yosemite, they've got heavy-gauge welded steel lockers with complex latching systems that require two hands and opposable thumbs to operate. You stow your edibles in those lockers or else.
Feral animals are called "wild" for a very good reason and people get hurt 'cuz they get caught unprepared to deal with that fact. Bottom line: If you head out into the backcountry, go prepared to fight and win, or go prepared to die.