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.