
Expedition
Log

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Brad Barr and Tom
Litwin
Bagging a Bear: Then and
Now
Although a century has passed since E. H. Harriman made
his Alaskan voyage, we today struggle with some of the same
issues that faced our 1899 counterparts. But with the
passage of time, old values fall out of grace and new
concerns and values emerge. With dramatic symbolism, the
Kodiak brown bear reared up as a center of attention and
controversy for both expeditions.
There were a number of reasons E. H. Harriman undertook his
expedition. His doctors told him he needed a vacation,
needed to get away. Many of the Harriman family friends and
business associates were visiting exotic lands, and they too
wanted to be part of that new trend in tourism. There was
the opportunity to contribute scientific and anthropological
accounts to the growing body of Alaskan information. And,
with the wealth of Alaska's natural resources, there were
potential business opportunities.
One additional, very clear goal was high on Mr. Harriman's
list: his persistent desire to shoot a Kodiak bear. This was
an era where trophy hunting was the sport of society's most
accomplished. Skins and stuffed animals were coming from all
over the world into America's natural history museums, oak
paneled social clubs, and mansion libraries. With the study
of natural history at the height of popularity, the lines
between sport and scientific collecting blurred. Their peers
held the contributors of these trophies in esteem; the
stories surrounding the catch were as important as the catch
itself.
On July 3, 1899 E. H. Harriman got his bear. After a number
of failed hunting excursions during the proceeding month, C.
Hart Merriam got word that brown bears were common on Kodiak
Island. The hunting party quickly organized itself and
excitedly departed in pursuit of their Kadiak bear.
As John Burroughs wrote, Here we left a naphtha launch
with a party of six men, heavily armed, bent on finding and
killing the great Kadiak bear- the largest species of bear
in the world, as big as an ox. With the aid of their
Russian guide, a sow and cub were driven toward the waiting
E. H. Harriman and he dispatched the adult with one shot.
Another member of the party shot the cub. Controversial
words spread amongst the ship's party. While some cheered at
the accomplishment, others like John Muir and zoologist
Trevor Kincaid saw the event as brutal and far from the
wilderness experience it was intended to be.
Fast forward 100 plus years to August 7, 2001 and the
Clipper Odyssey at anchor in Geographic Harbor, a basin at
the head of Amalik Bay, across the strait from Kodiak
Island. We spent the morning watching brown bears in
Geographic Bay and some of us had to wonder, what
information were the bears processing as they watched
us? Like the 1899 expedition, we too were tourists,
albeit with no intention of shooting a bear. But we couldn't
help asking, Are we having a subtle, but none-the-less
important impact of a different kind?
We set out that morning in ten 18' zodiacs. The full
complement of visitors to this remote location was about 100
individuals. The zodiac operators and scholar/naturalists
onboard were also eager to see bears and whatever other
wildlife we encountered, doing their best to provide the
best bear-watching experience for the passengers. But, we
weren't the only ones watching bears on this day. We were
joined by two float planes that also appeared to be full of
bear-watchers. Additionally, there were two private yachts,
one appearing to be a smaller expedition vessel, also
presumably full of bear-watchers. Finally, joining us in the
Bay was a small skiff with two rangers from the National
Park Service who were watching the bear-watchers. Their goal
was to assess the interactions between people and bears.
While it may have been just a typical day of bear-watching
on Geographic Bay, to this first-time visitor, ten zodiacs,
two sizeable private yachts and two float planes seemed a
notable incongruence to some of our party's expectations for
a small bay in wilderness Alaska.
Talking with other passengers after we returned, it was
clear that our experiences were quite divergent. The zodiacs
departed the ship as they were filled, so some arrived in
bear country earlier than others. Conversation back onboard
seemed to indicate that many of these early arriving
visitors had a very positive experience with bears, which
appeared to be oblivious to their presence. Early arrivers
observed a mother bear nursing, some older cubs in mock
battle, some beach-going bears digging for clams. Those who
arrived later observed these activities as well. However, on
more than one occasion, bears were observed running away
from the late-arriving zodiacs as they moved into position
beside the other boats. In some instances, it appeared that
when one or two zodiacs were standing off the beach where
the bears were active, the approach of additional zodiacs
resulted in bears altering behaviors that one would expect
they would continue to do if we hadn't been there.
In two instances, bears being watched were moving down the
beach, running ahead of the zodiacs. Other zodiacs were
attracted to the area, presumably by the activity, and
positioned themselves ahead of the moving bears. Eventually,
these bears arrived at a place on the beach where a steep
cliff kept them from heading inland. One bear doubled back,
while the other seemed to try to hide in the limited cover
at the base of the small cliff. As the zodiacs moved away to
look for more bears, the beach-bound bears headed back up
the strand to an opening where they sauntered off to the
interior of the island. In another case a nursing sow
nonchalantly got up, moved higher up on the beach with her
cubs close behind, then laid down to continue nursing. The
sow was not overly alarmed, but seemed to want more distance
between her and the zodiacs. Our presence clearly influenced
the activity of these animals on this day, but we debated,
so what?
For those onboard who have examined human-wildlife
interactions, the so what? question is an important
one and brings into focus other similar national examples.
We are familiar with images of bear marauding in National
Park campsites, Polar Bear being chased from some of the
worlds most northern dumps, and Black Bear being
tranquilized and removed from New England villages. Bear are
not alone. The relationship of White-tailed Deer populations
to human communities has been focus of wildlife managers for
decades. The relationship of ecotourism, whale-watching, and
whale behavior has become a global topic.
Interestingly, the activities surrounding bear watching in
the remote Geographic Harbor are very similar to what is
commonly seen on whale-watching grounds. First, the density
of humans increases as the seaplanes, expedition ships, and
yachts, as well as the whale-watching boats all gather in a
particular area because of the presence of a
watchable species. In whale-watching, newly arrived
boats scout for other boats that are on whales, and
head for that location knowing that they are a sure to find
something interesting for the passengers to watch. Piling-on
where vessels all move in close as they arrive, instead of
hanging back a distance, results from the natural tendency
to get a better look. While the environmental context
might change, from the Gray Whales in the Sea of Cortez to
Humpbacks in the Atlantic, to brown bear in Geographic
Harbor or Yellowstone National Park, humans influence animal
behavior. But, so what?
To answer this question, you can look to Alaska itself. The
susceptibility of brown bears to human-induced disturbance
has been at issue in Alaska since before 1932, when the
first guidelines were written to regulate potentially
harmful interactions between people and bear (see Citizens
Advisory Committee, 2001: the report provides citations of
research that document the scope and magnitude of impacts
from bear-viewing and other human interactions). Both the
National Park Service and the US Fish and Wildlife Service,
have some rules already in places like Geographic Harbor,
including the minimum approach distance of 50 yards. From
these reports, and actions of Alaskan state and US Fish
& Wildlife Service managers, it is clear that those
charged with brown bear management are concerned by the
increase in bear-human interactions, and the role that the
Alaska ecotourism industry plays in this process. It was not
a coincidence that National Park Service rangers in
Geographic Harbor shadowed our zodiacs to observe not only
bear behavior, but human behavior as well. In an interesting
twist, we, the humans, were the focus of study.
As always, there are two sides to the conversation and the
Two Alaskas theme once again emerges: the Alaska that
is America's wilderness and frontier, and the Alaska that
has been blessed with many natural resources ready to
benefit humans and their economies. Bear watching and
tourism joins the list that includes ANWR and oil, old
growth forests and logging, and Pollack and Stellar's sea
lions. In regards to bear, the potential benefits from these
wildlife-watching experiences are obvious. It helps
researchers better understand the biology, behavior, and
ecology of these magnificent creatures. Local and regional
economies are supported. Such experiences help build public
support for research and conservation, both offshore and
onshore. We truly get to know these animals up-close and
personal through ecotourism and learn to care about
them. None of us who experienced Geographic Harbor's bears
for the first time will ever think about bears the same way:
we were awestruck.
But, at what cost? Clearly, the vast majority of naturalist
guides and ecotourism leaders have a strong environmental
ethic and take great pains to insure that their activities
have the least environmental impact possible. Most have
entered the profession because of their love for the
outdoors and its wildlife. Their lives are closely linked to
the health of these resources, as are their livelihoods.
However, like whale-watch operators, they also are a service
industry that aims to provide their customers with the
best experience possible. Sometimes, these two ethics
conflict, and disturbance thresholds of the animals being
watched may be pushed to the limit or exceeded. But, so
what? How can we say that this one visit is changing bear
behavior? Well, it probably isn't. The real question is,
How does our visit, coupled with the hundreds before,
coupled with the thousands that will follow in the decades
ahead, influence their behavior?
While bears have been much studied, all our questions are
not answered, especially those involving impacts related to
human contact. Does this disturbance affect the individual
bears being watched in terms of their feeding, reproduction,
nurturing of their cubs, and other routine activities? In a
larger context, does the cumulative effect of bear-watching
have any adverse or modifying effect on their behavior and
health? Will they modify their movements to avoid busy
locations at the height of tourist season? Will it make them
more likely to approach human settlements in search of a
convenient meal at the dumpster diner? The most
important question may be, Are these the outcomes we
intended? One response is that the bears will simply get
use to humans and their activities. But, that is the very
point: do we want them getting use to humans? Over time and
with increasing exposure, will these bears come to behave
like the bear in heavy traffic areas like faraway
Yellowstone Park?
Significantly, a positive outcome of our stop in Geographic
Harbor was providing the opportunity for the National Park
Service rangers to observe the observers. Studies of this
type are timely. Ecotourism along the entire Alaskan coast
is increasing, and the crowding of traditional coastal
destinations with more people and large cruise ships makes
them less desirable to the visitor seeking an Alaska
wilderness experience. For those looking to avoid the
crowds, remote destinations like Geographic Harbor are of
great interest and visitation is becoming more common. A
quick look at the ecotourism areas of the Internet finds
this region described as the last best place for bears
and Katmai National Park, the worlds highest
concentration of bears. Who wouldn't want to visit such a
wonder of nature?
Significantly, it is these very concerns that have
encouraged many in the ecotourism industry to developed
their own codes of conduct, and why resource managers
promulgate regulations governing these activities. It would
be a solid first step for ecotourism operations to develop,
in cooperation with brown bear scientists and managers, a
code of conduct for bear viewing. Such a code could be
modeled after the principles of ethical field practices of
the North American Nature Photographers Association, or one
of a number of codes of conduct developed for the commercial
whale-watching industry. This code should be part of a
passenger's onboard education and discussed with them so
that they know how to conduct themselves, as well as serving
as an aid in evaluating the conduct of their tour operators
(Giannecchini 1993). This has the potential to be far more
effective than governmental regulations in helping to insure
that responsible operators, acting in a protective manner,
are preferentially selected by informed ecotourists.
In the final analysis, we celebrate our privileged encounter
with the brown bear of Geographic Harbor. But, as Trevor
Kincaid and John Muir found over 100 years ago, effective
conservation involves constant evaluation and asking hard
questions. Shouldn't responsible stewardship include close
scrutiny and critical evaluation of how we are shaping the
behavior of the animals whose lives we briefly encounter? We
hope that Dr. Kincaid and John Muir would agree that we have
a responsibility to be sure we don't miss something
important during the celebration of our good fortune at
having seen, and become a part of the brown bear's world,
even if only for one bright Alaska morning.
Citations:
Citizens Advisory Committee 2001.
Kodiak Archipelago Bear Conservation and Management Plan:
Public Review Draft.
Giannecchini, J. 1993. Ecotourism: New
Partners, New Relationships. Conservation Biology,
7(2):429-432.
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