Still watching;

Looking at polar bears for thirty years has not diminished that welcome tremor of excitement felt when spotting a familiar face amongst the fall gathering along our coast. The old guy that spends a few months lounging around Brian’s dogs is always a welcome sight. He is a gentle soul with the patience and indifference that old warrior's carry so well, at ease with their surroundings, knowing the skills developed after long years on the ice will help him navigate through another winter.

Then another pleasant surprise. A few years back a small confused and without a doubt, hungry polar bear cub showed up at the dogs compound. The cub was worried and scared in amongst the dogs and bigger bears that hangout but managed to dodge the big guys and suffer the abuse a few of the dogs laid upon him if he got to close. He watched and learnt how to get a few scraps of food without getting a whack from the grown ups or a bite in the butt from a husky dog. There was a determination and a will to survive that this little guy possessed that had us who watched this drama unfold cheering for him. He made it to freeze up that fall and followed the big boys out onto the new ice where the biggest challenge to his survival awaited.

This would be his first winter out on the ice without the guidance and protection of mom so when he showed up at the dogs compound around this time of the year last fall, still skinny and hungry but very much alive we were overjoyed. One tough little bear. A bit more savvy although still cautious he managed well enough to find his place amongst the giants and his share of whatever happened his way.

Another winter out on the ice and just the other day he, for the third time,showed up at the compound. Not a worried cub anymore but a strong young polar bear that showed the intelligence and strong will to survive that these amazing animals possess.

Over the years this group of bears that end up here come October and November have become familiar to us that watch them. We are encouraged by the most part of the continuing well being of the bears. The evolving of skills needed to survive and adaptation to a changing environment gives them what is needed to continue on. All the shocking claims of starvation and doom that conservation organisations and all those who benefit from a vanishing polar bear are releasing on a gullible public, we can ignore as we can see for ourselves the truth.

onemanspolarbear: No ordinary polar...

onemanspolarbear:                                  No ordinary polar...:                                  No ordinary polar bear.  Dancer was a great bear friend who, other than being one of the most intelligen...

                                 No ordinary polar bear.


 Dancer was a great bear friend who, other than being one of the most intelligent beings I know, had a great sense of humour.


As far as polar bears go Dancer was a near perfect specimen. He was a lump of a bear with muscle well defined even below a thick layer of fat. His ponderous behind, the true measure of a polar bears health and stature, I'm sure was eyed with envy and caution by other males and no doubt convinced more than a few ladies, come spring courting time out on the ice, that he was the one. If the polar bears hunting prowess is directly related to the size of his rear end then Dancer took a back seat to no others.

 Although I could only offer an educated guess I would say he was around eight years old when he made the trek from the Cape to visit for the first time. The scars on his broad face from battling over the ladies or protecting a kill told me he was a warrior approaching his prime, already the respect shown by other bears was evident and the many challenges to his authority were quickly dealt with. It was how he dealt with these challenges that set him apart.

Polar bears are cautious by nature and never waltz into the unknown without a lengthily analysis of the situation, no chances are taken when approaching another bear of similar size. But caution is not enough to override the innate curiosity these animals have. If something is going on they want to know about it.

The usual procedure when one male bear approaches another is a type of slow tango that sees both animals delicately circle one another, head slung low to the ground, making sure all their assets are in full display by turning broadside to each other to show the true seat of power, their rear ends. Eye contact is never broken, huge yawns displaying a full set of teeth shows everything is in working order at that end. The dance varies in length but as an observer seems to go on and on. The dance ends when one bear figures his assets didn't match up to the others and trundles off. Size is a factor but not necessarily the rule, it is not uncommon to see a large bear give ground to another of less stature. I can only think the reason for this is the degree of intimidation seen in the eyes. In some cases during the dance the bears realise that they met before and settle down if not to enjoy each others company at least tolerate each others presence.

Dancer wouldn't tango, he had his own way of dealing with intruders. The first time I seen him in action I went from shock to amazement to spasms of laughter within seconds.

The window Dancer used to visit in the old camera buggy slid open wide enough so when standing on his back legs he could shove his head through to his ears. We were having one of our early morning get togethers over a cup of coffee, one of his favourite smells, when looking over the top of his head I noticed a big male bear making his way toward us. His cautious approach brought him within a hundred feet where he stopped to collect his thoughts. He was figuring out if it was in his best interest to check out whats going on or use prudence and alter his course leaving it all well enough alone. He couldn't let this go, something was going on.

Once his mind was made up the newcomer's approach changed. Like a sailing ship beating into the wind he started tacking, changing course every so often angling his way closer, giving careful thought to every step. His progress slowed even more by long pauses to watch for any reaction from Dancer. He had worked his way close enough that any other bear would have taken notice and either high tailed it out of here or turned to meet the challenge head on and begin the tango.

Not Dancer, he knew he was there but ignored him completely and the bear kept coming. It got to a point where I thought I should break our visit short and close the window so Dancer wouldn't be caught off guard but at that moment my friend let out a big snort that dampened the air inside the buggy then pushed his big body backwards away from the window to sort things out.

Like a reluctant ballerina Dancer balanced himself on one leg and did a wobbly pirouette to face his adversary, the momentum of such a manoeuvre caused him not to drop to all four legs but to plop down on his greatest asset with such force I'm sure I felt the buggy shake. There he sat, looking like a fuzzy white Buddha waiting to dish out a bit of enlightenment to the bear now frozen in mid stride not forty feet away.

The next move was left entirely up to the uninvited visitor who I could see was giving great thought as to how he should handle this unexpected and tenuous situation. The choice of backing away should have been given more consideration. The nervous bear give a great yawn and ever so slowly lowered his front paw to take his last step forward.

In a explosion of unimaginable power and fury Dancer drew his head in close to his massive shoulders and flew at the unfortunate beast ramming him broadside with such force it lifted him off his feet and sent him tumbling through the air in a slow arc landing in a confused heap. Recovery was quick and in a heartbeat the terrified bear was upright and running flat out for his life, his back legs reaching well past his front shoulders with every stride.

No, Dancer was no ordinary bear.

........................................................................................................................................

onemanspolarbear: Young mans polar bear ...

onemanspolarbear: Young mans polar bear ...: Young mans polar bear Hello friends....please check out the link...and thank you http://ww...

                        Young mans polar bear                

   
                         Young mans polar bear


There is a weight to long winter nights. Once the radio was turned off
and the house went dark I could feel it pressing me down into my bed
pushing away sleep. Good thoughts faded quickly carried away by the
banshee wind that found new strength at night. Familiar trouble brewing in
the back of my mind. Unstoppable for a child. With no escape, dread
floods the room and once again the battle with "The Bear" begins.

I had no choice what form of beast visited my bedroom and invaded my dreams; in this town you couldn't get away from it. Polar Bears have always been here; the town was built where they live.

Churchill has been at war with the polar bear for hundreds of years. A
dangerous intruder who owns the night. This community of hunters and
trappers, railroad men and dock workers, soldiers from the war who looked
north to start new, seldom gave a second chance to a bear who found
itself caught amongst the snow banked houses and icy streets. Shoot them
before they get someone... before they get me.

Come morning and with the promise of a new day "The Bear" was all but
forgotten, there were games to play, a quick breakfast, a tussle over
the best set of mitts and out the door.
"Bear on James street last night so you boy's be careful" mom warned.
A side trip to look for tracks, then over to Sonnys' for road hockey.
"Mervin said he seen one the other day on Thompson street," says'
Sonny.
"Mervin is always seeing them, Mervin is full of crap," I say, anyway
day bears don't count, it's the one who visits in the night that worried
me.

Daylight was precious, what little there was of it. Seemed you just got
into whatever you were doing, building forts, endless games of road
hockey or leaping off roof tops into fresh snow when it was dark again. No
street lights then. Luck would provide the moon on a rare night. We
would take advantage of it and stay out longer than we should, excuses
firmly in place before heading home.

It was one of those nights, clear, cold, with the wind slackened off
just enough. Bare bulbs lit over porch doors, moon, stars, a tinge of
colour in the northern sky was all we needed for the game. No one
remembered the score , we were playing for hours. It was late. My brother had
left for home long ago...I should have went with him. Mom will be
mad...I didn't care.. we were cooped up in the house for days during the
storm. Storms always brought "The Bear' to wrestle sleep away... didn't
they know that.
Johny Eleven decided he had enough and was on his way home, I could
walk with him halfway. We called him Johny Eleven because his nose was
always runny.
Things were OK until Johny split off and disappeared into the
dark.That's when I heard the dogs acting up, they usually howled a little at
dusk and then quiet for the night unless something was going on.
They were really howling now...something was going on... better run!
Fear was starting to percolate in the back of my mind. The light in
moms' kitchen came into view as I rounded Allens' house... almost there.
The next instant an implosion of dread and panic washed through my body
almost bringing me to my knees as the reason for the dogs' dismay
materialized before my eyes, I was running straight towards my nightmare,
"The Bear" was on the road, the road I had to cross to get home. My short
life was over.
Although my mind yielded itself to the fact I was a goner the message
never reached my legs. They recovered from the shock and a
new found force, alien to me,  lifted me up over the road, passing so
close in front of "The Bear" I felt I could touch him, depositing me
on the step leading into the porch of my house.

Not quite sure what just happened; flushed with joy and a love for all mankind I dared to
look back. "The Bear" hadn't moved, his massive head, slung low to the
ground, was turned my way, his weary eyes watching me. For a dozen
heartbeats our eyes locked then with a faint "huff "he turned away and started
down the road; a wisp of frozen breath caught by the moon and carried
by the wind trailed behind him. I was pardoned by The Bears
indifference.
Mom opened the porch door and with a sternness that couldn't hide
the worry asked "where were you" ,  I bravely ignored her
question, pointed and said "Bear on Herne street."

onemanspolarbear: Wildlife Rehabilitation's ultimate goal is to retu...

onemanspolarbear: Wildlife Rehabilitation's ultimate goal is to retu...: Wildlife Rehabilitation's ultimate goal is to return the healed back to the wild. The keeping of polar bears in zoos is being challenged ...

Wildlife Rehabilitation's ultimate goal is to return the healed back to the wild.

The keeping of polar bears in zoos is being challenged around the world. While they may still be popular display animals, they are among the worst candidates for captivity.

Debbie had died , she was forty two. Forty one of those years in a cage at Assiniboine Zoo in Winnipeg, Manitoba. I remember seeing her down in her grotto, possibly the only thing sadder than her was me. Nothing in my mind dampens the human spirit more than looking into a cage at a captive animal. When she died Debbie held the record for the longest living polar bear in captivity. The zoo carried that distinction around like a badge of honor. Now Assiniboine Zoo wants to breathe new life into the antiquated facility. With a whack of money the building has begun; the crowning piece being a multi million dollar Polar Bear Conservation Center. The proposed Center will have more than a few components, one being a row of refurbished cages that is designated as the “rehabilitation” area where needy polar bears are kept once “rescued” from the wild. A pious deception.

Another component will be the brand new polar bear exhibit with captured wild polar bears from Churchill as the main attraction. The new and improved exhibit claims to be twenty times bigger than the old exhibit. A bit of trivia puts things in perspective; Lions and Tigers have around 18,000 times less space in zoos than they would in the wild. Polar bears have one million times less space. Twenty times nothing is nothing.

A few years back polar bears from Churchill were found languishing in a touring Mexican circus. It struck a nerve and there was a renewed demand by Zoo Check Canada on Conservation Manitoba, a branch of the Provincial government in charge of wildlife, to find out how this happened and to make sure Churchill bears will not be found all beat up in some third world lock-up... or the equivalent, again. In response the department drafted a set of standards that laid out the parameters of an acceptable holding facility ( cage ) before any bear would be handed over. This set of standards applied to the facilities in Manitoba as well; hence the new improved polar bear cages.

I met the man who had drafted up the standards, a biologist for Conservation Manitoba, we were looking at a polar bear through the window of the Polar Bear Lodge in Churchill, he was there as a guest of Polar Bears International, an organization that has no problem with capturing wild polar bears and putting them in cages. He remarked to me how amazing the polar bears were... even more so now that he finally got to see them in their natural surroundings....??? I was thinking that if this nice man had spent time observing polar bears in the wild before he worked on the standards; watched how they moved through an arctic landscape of ice and snow, how the clear magical light that can only be found in northern latitudes gets caught in the fur of their great coat, I am sure he would have grabbed a map and a marking pen and traced the outline of the whole Canadian Arctic and handed that to his superiors explaining the size of containment for the polar bear has already been determined!

But that didn't happen, so now the bears of Churchill are going to be closely monitored for signs that they need to be rescued and rehabilitated. What makes it all a slap in the face is that no rescued bear will be returned to the wild no matter how much rehabilitation the animal received. A life sentence.

The website for the Center says they will take the injured, abandoned and troublesome. But they really want the abandoned. Specifiably abandoned cubs...oh my do they ever want the cubs....polar bear cubs are the holy grail of zoos throughout the world, like hitting the lottery, grabbing the golden ring.....nothing, with the exception of Panda bears, can haul the people in and get their wallets open like cute polar bear cubs. Remember Knut. There will be huge pressure on Conservation Manitoba to find bear cubs that need saving. So the question has to be asked ... other than the enormous entertainment value why do these cubs need saving ?

You will find no other mother on the planet regardless of species who will protect and nurture their offspring to the degree a polar bear will. The hardships this mother endures during the first year of the little ones lives to ensure their survival is extraordinarily severe. She has so much of herself invested in the cubs survival that the term abandoned does not apply. There are no abandoned polar bear cubs. Separated or orphaned yes. A mother separated from her cubs will never stop looking for them; she can't find them at the zoo. Or they may have been pushed away by the mother because she was mating or pregnant either way it was time for the cubs to go on their own.

Orphaned cubs for whatever reason are rare and implies the mother is dead. This happens in the wild and the cubs have a real fight on their hands to survive, but one cannot discount instinct at any age. It is known that other family groups will accept an orphaned cub but for the most part if the cubs are orphaned before their first season out on the ice hunting for seal with their mother the outlook is not good. A cruel fate but one that is part of the cycle of nature. And one that we have no business sticking our nose in.

If the cubs survive the first year they are well on there way;  having learned invaluable lessons from mom during the four months hunting seal out on the ice and the summer months on land. Who are we to say they are not capable of surviving on their own come fall. It would be hard but not impossible. This is what makes the polar bear what it is, their survival instinct is constantly evolving. If only a small percentage of the orphaned cubs survive that makes the species that much stronger, that much more capable of overcoming whatever mother nature has in store for them.

For those who think capturing polar bears and putting them in zoos will keep them from becoming extinct I say to you without any doubt in my mind that when the last trace of mankind is nothing but dust caught in a rock crevice.... somewhere on this banged up planet will be a polar bear. But only if we give them the chance to survive on their own.

onemanspolarbear: Old Warrior

onemanspolarbear: Old Warrior: Old Warrior I seen him coming from the East, small in the bi...

Old Warrior

Old Warrior

I seen him coming from the East, small in the binoculars, taking forever with his slow plodding, not wavering from the track he set. Closer I could see he was an old warrior, heavily scarred, patches of black skin showing through where thick underfur had been, the once great white coat now yellowed with age. I love these old bears, all banged up from a lifetime of struggle, living now mostly on wits and lessons learned, a face with character. He became weary of my presence the closer he got. I was parked along the coast and it looked to me that I was in his way.

He was still quite a ways off when he stopped. He just stood there looking, his tired eyes fixed on where I was. I watched him watching me, after an unreasonable length of time I got it; I started the camera buggy and put it in reverse and backed away from the old bears set track. He took another few minutes before he continued on his way eventually crossing where I was parked, passing without so much as a sideways glance.

The bear didn't get far. Along the coast a short distance from where I had been was a shallow bay, it was less than a bay, more an indent, an indent rimmed with stands of reddish dwarf willow, a break in the coast line where sea water, after a big tide, got trapped in a pool. This is where the old guy stopped, he found his spot; a small flat area on a raised hummock, partially hidden by the willows, close to the mouth of the break. From here he could rest and wait and watch. He knew this place, this was where he wanted to be.

The tidal waters of Hudson Bay and everywhere else in the world are influenced by the gravitational pull of the moon. Not wanting to get into the science behind all this I will just say when it is coming around to a full moon the tides are higher than normal. The mean high tide may be four meters, around the time of a full moon the tides' could reach 4.6 meters and if there is a strong north wind pushing the water ashore it will exceed this mark. On such an occasion the water will breach the tidal ridge and flood behind it. Depending on the severity of the storm the flooding can be quite extensive; more so in these low lying areas'. As it turned out the moon was soon to be full. The old bear's timing was good.

The day broke miserably, hard north wind, heavy overcast skies with driving rain. Not unusual weather for the end of October in these northern climes. With a full moon coming this was the perfect build-up to what could become a raging storm and as the day wore on it became obvious that was what we were going to get. For the second day the old bear stayed right where he first laid down, watching and waiting. I made the mistake of trying to get close to see what he was up to, he did not like this and moved away as I approached. I felt bad and moved back to a spot far enough away but close enough that I could see what was going on, if anything. In a short time he returned to his spot; the old guy didn't need me bothering him.

The coast was being battered by the wind and sea, highest tide of the month was on the rise, the moon was full. The wind rocked the camera buggy something fierce; sleep did not come easy if at all.

The storm blew itself out during the night, morning came and with the light I could see the extent of the flooding. The water had reached far inland and formed shallow lakes behind the tidal ridges. The old bear was at his spot , his little rise of earth was now almost an island. The mass of water that was forced inland was receding, finding its' way back to the sea following a falling tide. I caught the sudden movement out of the corner of my eye, a flash of white, a splash of water, the bear, with speed and a ferocity that you would not expect from a beat-up old man had a young seal by the back of the neck raised high out of the water. I could barely contain myself; I let out a big whoop, the old bear got one.

Every now and then during the rest of the day the bear would raise his head over top of the willows to look my way, the red on his snout looked out of place on such a regal face. Night came and in the morning the old guy was gone. The chance to get on the ground and have a look where the bear spent the last few days waiting and watching presented itself and so I did. No seal carcass, a smudge of blood on a rock was all I found. Looking from the his spot I could see that the huge body of water that was there after the big tide had, for the most part, drained back to the sea funnelled through the narrow break in the beach ridge. This break, now seen from a different angle, was further restricted by a line of large rocks extending from the edge of the break toward the center on each side. Anything caught in the large tide pool would be guided along by the rocks to the narrow opening to get back to the sea. Including seals. It was quite a revelation. My, my, the old guy had it all figured out right down to the high tide and full moon, it was all too slick to be coincidental. He knew of this place, there was no doubt that he had success here in the past.

You cannot underestimate the intelligence of the polar bear, the more I am around them the more I am amazed and convinced that their superior ingenuity will see them through the hardest of times. Their innate knowledge of the unique habitat they live in secures their future only if we as a species do our part not to screw it up........ Now I was thinking maybe the line of rocks were not natural at all....

onemanspolarbear: ground zero

onemanspolarbear: ground zero: My home town is ground zero for the fight to save the polar bear. Of all the nineteen populations of polar bears identified world wide the...

ground zero

My home town is ground zero for the fight to save the polar bear. Of all the nineteen populations of polar bears identified world wide the bears of Churchill are being singled out as the population suffering the most from a wonky climate and the first that will disappear off the face of the earth.....in fifteen to twenty years. It is a hard pill to swallow considering how intelligent and resourceful these bears are. It will take more than the extrapolation of selective data to convince me.

Conservation organizations that claim to be saving the polar bears from extinction want to hold Churchill bears up to the world as an example of mans excess ...they want everyone to look at these starving animals and feel the guilt ...problem is they can't find any starving polar bears to show anyone... hungry bears yes...what bear is not hungry... but is the Churchill population of polar bears near death by lack of food...not by a long shot.

One prominent conservation organization came across a mother who was very sick and unable to feed her two cubs; both near death from starvation. Over a period of three days they filmed this family group, the video showed a young cub wracked with convulsions and finally dying as did the mom and remaining cub. This video was sent to the climate change meetings in Durban as an example not of polar bears dying from the effects of climate change but what a polar bear would look like if it was to die of starvation due to climate change. That in itself sent a message that in my mind was loud and clear. The immediate well being of these animals is not the main priority. The value was not in rescuing the starving cubs but in showing them dying and dead.

As long as we don't save them to death this group of polar bears are handling whatever mother nature has thrown at them well. It is what we as human beings throw at them that will be their downfall. Let me continue in real time, what is happening to the bears now. I do not deny that extremities in the weather are causing additional burdens on this group of bears but I do not buy into the hysteria over their inevitable extinction prophesied by organizations that have agendas other than the immediate well being of the Churchill polar bear.

In real time these polar bears are being studied to near exhaustion, no group of bears on the planet has been subject to the assault and battery this group has endured for the past thirty years. The accessibility of these bears makes them the equivalent of the lab rat, the Rhesus monkey. Being chased by helicopter and shot with a tranquillizer dart is something these bears face from the time they are born until they die. The processing once they are “down” from the powerful tranquillizing drug is in itself a degradation; they are shaved, milked, tagged tattooed and painted not forgetting the pulling of teeth and the rectal thermometer. This process is ongoing and has not stopped year in and year out. The single most traumatic experience a mother with new born cubs is faced with is what she and her cubs are put through all in the name of science. This method of collecting information is not without its dangers, the eight inch dart can and does miss the mark and ends up embedded in the bears stomach causing serous injury and deaths, heat exhaustion from trying to escape the helicopter, drowning and broken legs are all real injuries sustained by these bears. Polar bears suffer pain the same as we do, only difference being they suffer pain straight up. When does the collecting of data become less important than the trauma and pain the animal has to endure to get it. If the Churchill bears are near extinction because of the stresses of a rapidly changing climate do you not think adding to that stress at this time would reduce any hope at all of them coping and adapting to stay alive. Leave the bears alone, let them recover on their own terms. The processes of science is not always justifiable.

In real time: next I will fill you in on the new polar bear rehabilitation center that has just opened up. The collecting of wild polar bears in need of rehabilitation is not so much driven by compassion but by the need of acquiring wild polar bears to meet the demand of zoo's throughout the world. And where are they getting the wild bears from..... Churchill.

onemanspolarbear: The late Will Cuppy said :“ Frogs will eat red-fl...

onemanspolarbear: The late Will Cuppy said :
“ Frogs will eat red-fl...: The late Will Cuppy said : “ Frogs will eat red-flannel worms fed to them by biologists. This proves a great deal by both parties conc...

The late Will Cuppy said :

“ Frogs will eat red-flannel worms fed to them by biologists. This proves a great deal by both parties concerned”

The “little bear” story was in part a journal entry I wrote when I ran the polar bear cam a few years back. It's a nice feel good story that shows how adaptive the polar bear can be. Is this an isolated case that I was fortunate enough to witness...I think not. I am sure somewhere out there in the bears immense domain another polar bear cub has tagged onto a surrogate benefactor albeit at a distance. There have been other instances of adaptation for survival that I have seen that made me shake my head in astonishment. One that got me thinking was when I came across a mother with a single cub making their way along an old beach ridge that pointed out into the Hudson Bay.

Bright sunshine, not a breath of wind with just a hint of fall in the air; end of September can be a volatile time with easterly winds that bring nothing but crap weather for days on end, sleet and rain and snow but on this day everything was good. A full tide and a lazy sea made it all quite serene. The mom with the cub close behind slipped into the water off the point of land with barely a ripple, the cub quickly taking his place just over the shoulder along moms back. The pair swam straight out from land until lost in the valleys of the long swell. There was nothing out there. The direction they were going they could swim for a hundred miles and not reach land; couldn't figure it out.

I continued on my way following the shoreline hoping to run into something interesting but still looking back and out to sea with the binoculars for any sign of the bears return. The day was wearing on. I doubled back following the same route I came bringing me near to the spot the mom and cub started their swim; the tide now ebbing exposing a stretch of tidal flats that will within a few hours reach out until the blue water is barely visible. I stopped when a flash of white at the edge of the tide line caught me and with the binoculars seen the mom emerge from the water, the cub behind, with a fresh killed seal in her mouth. Quite a sight. While enjoying my good fortune it struck me that there was not a bit of ice as far as the eye could see and wouldn't be for another month or so. Without the platform of ice to hunt seal from the polar bear is unable to sustain itself or so the "learned ones" would lead us to believe but here in front of me was a mother enjoying a meal along with her cub, how did she do it ? I didn't know for sure..I had an idea.

It is surprising how close you can get to a seal when he is having a snooze, the seal will rest while floating on top of the water, on a warm sunny day like this with a calm sea no doubt the chance of finding a sleeping seal is pretty good. A mother with cub has to have exceptional hunting skills to pull this off but there it was...there might be other reasons she ended up with a seal but from watching her swim away with her cub I sensed she was up to something and she knew what she was doing.

There has been a lot of controversy about the fate of this population of polar bears. With the wonky weather and the bombast from conservation organizations that preach certain doom it all becomes a bit messy. The "learned ones" who make up the advisory boards of these organizations and who are the ones most quoted in the press will not admit or at least give a nod to the fact these bears are adapting and adapting quickly to the challenges mother nature has been throwing at them of late. When the mother came back to shore with the seal kill the cub, in that short period of time, had learned an invaluable lesson on how to hunt without the benefit of an ice pan and an important lesson in survival. A lesson to be passed on...

onemanspolarbear: Being born and raised in Churchill, Manitoba, C...

onemanspolarbear:

Being born and raised in Churchill, Manitoba, C...: Being born and raised in Churchill, Manitoba, Canada the word "polar bear" meant many things. As a kid it meant nothing but trouble. I...

 Dancer is a big polar bear that took a liking to me and would spend weeks visiting while waiting for the Bay to freeze over. A small bear adopted him.

Little Bear Tracks

Something was up, there was a slightly underweight cub acting a little strange, the little polar bear was trying to walk in the deep tracks left in the snow by my pal Dancer. The imprints were the size of a catcher’s mitt; easy to step into, it was the distance in between that was the problem. A big stretch for the little guy to hit every hole; he was up to something. I didn't notice the cub until Dancer showed up for his annual visit, must have been following him for a time. Had to keep my eye on this one.
Morning broke and there was Dancer at his usual spot lying just below the drivers door window and there at the edge of the willows was the little bear. The cub had an all encompassing interest in the big bear and wouldn't take his eyes off  him; following his every move, all very subtle and indirect but nevertheless obvious if you had the time to watch it play out.

During the next few days Dancer was playing like the little guy didn't exist. Oh I know he knew the cub was tagging along behind him, no way he could not. After the spring romance out on the ice the male bear keeps on going. Not a worry about the outcome, no parenting duties for him to worry about yet I wondered if there was a connection. Could this be one of Dancers siblings ? It was not an entirely impossible stretch to think this may be.

Science says’ the big males, when given the opportunity, will kill the young bears.  I have witnessed it on a few occasions, not a pretty sight. I do believe this is true of certain bears not necessarily all bears. I would like to think not true of Dancer. Spending the amount of time I have observing these bears come fall, when most are at their hungriest ,it is rare an adult bear makes a determined effort to take a cub. Indeed most of the big males are indifferent to the young.

So what was going on between the young bear and Dancer? It soon became clear. This is how the little bear was surviving. At a safe and respectful distance the little bear was continuing his education, he was learning the skills needed to become a successful hunter. He picked one of the best to learn from; Dancer was in his prime and a true warrior. When a seal kill was made there would be plenty left for the young bear to feed off. The big males strip and eat only the fat off their prey.
This little bear was going on his third year, probably chased away by mom during spring courtship. Although there were many lessons learned from mom he still had a long and hard road to go to insure survival. When he adopted Dancer he started on the right path.

This scenario started me thinking about how quickly these young bears have to adapt to survive. They are not bovines, they have to use their intelligence and instinct each minute of the day to get by. What an incredible worrisome time it must be for the cub who has just been abandoned.

One of the most haunting and disturbing experiences I encountered was in a blinding snow storm along the coast of Hudson Bay, the ice had set and the bears were leaving for the winter hunt. The relentless wind roared and howled driving the wet snow on a long angle into the ground. I couldn't move the buggy, I did not dare until I could see where I was going. Drifting in and out of the wail I heard a sharp cry not unlike that of a newborn baby. It was hard to determine which way it was coming from. The windows were near completely iced over and with the hard curtain of snow the chance of seeing what was making the disturbing sound was slim. But I knew what it was. The wind fell back for a half a second and the polar bear cub came into view disappearing back into the storm just as quick. The little guy could have been abandoned or the storm could have caused it to be separated  from mom. There are more than a few reasons for a young bear to be alone and afraid. Regardless of how this came to be it was heartbreaking. It does not matter how hardened you are, the sight of that lost little bear, frantic with fear and worry, would have brought a lump to your throat. Whatever species you are looking at, if you are in touch with your humanity, when a young one is in trouble you share it's pain.

I felt helpless and worried for the cub but also knew with some comfort that the mother would not stop looking for the young one if indeed they were separated.
 I felt good about the little guy who was tailing Dancer. He had a fighting chance at making it.

Watching the way the cub mimicked Dancer was fascinating. When the big bear went on a walk-about the cub would be watching and not let him get far before he started off behind him. The big bear would make frequent stops planting his fist size nose flat on the ground breathing in large volumes of information to sort out. When the cub came up upon that spot he would put his nose flat to the ground where Dancer had his. When Dancer rolled on the ice to clean the wet off his great coat the little guy did the same. This is typical of what the cub would do with mom, now doing it at a distance without that close comfort and protection only a mother could provide.

One bit of behavior leaves me tickled. Bears can flop down almost anywhere for a short nap but when they feel a big snore coming on they need to dig a day bed. They go to great lengths on finding the right location that has the right texture of snow. They can be quite fussy in the construction. Dancer was no exception.

It was time for the big sleep. I watched as the big bear finally found a suitable spot heavy with snow and began the exacting task of removing just the right amount. Using his massive paws as an excavator he carved and pushed and shoveled until he felt he had it right. He then tried it out for size and comfort only to get up carve and push a little more. Finally after much fussing about the bear did what a dog does and followed his stub of a tale around in a circle within the bed once and then some before flopping down to the start of a long deep slumber. Only to realize it was still not right and get up and go to another spot and start over. Eventually, after the new bed has been dug and the big bear satisfied and settled, the ever attentive cub seizes the moment and crawls into the newly abandoned bed to enjoy a comfortable sleep along side his benefactor, to him everything is perfect.