Wildlife encounters: fears and wonder
We’d just finished our meal. Andy had returned to the tent when from the corner of our pitch, nearly 200 kg of black rippling muscle broke out from the bush. The bear hesitated for a moment, sniffing the dusk air. In an instant a thousand and one thoughts raced through my mind. Should I warn Andy or not alarm him? Will the bear approach me? Could I get under the picnic table to protect myself or would the bear simply overturn it? Can I reach the axe lying by the fire pit without panicking the bear? The bear resumed its slow, majestic stride, its huge paws treading silently on the fine-gravel of our camp pitch as it passed between our tent and myself transfixed at the picnic table, before disappearing again into the bush. “Did you see that?” “Yes” replied Andy, in a quivering voice.
A minute or two later we heard an almighty crashing sound in the woods nearby. The next day we learnt that the black bear had fallen into a trap. The same bear had been caught here in Jasper National Park (Canadian Rockies) previously and returned to the high country, only for it to return again to the campsites, lured by the prospect of human food. Regrettably, its recurrent behaviour meant that the bear was going to be destroyed. Here was a classic case of man and animal being in conflict over the same territory. The sight of this magnificent animal walking stealthily through our pitch less than 5 metres away will always stay with me, not so much because of the fright but by its very own majesty.
If you go on safari, you expect to see wonderful wildlife in their natural settings. For those of us living largely urban lives, the gatherings of many iconic great animals at waterholes is wonderful to witness, even if the consumed experience has been organised, paid for and highly expected. On the other hand, if we are more independent or alone when we come face to face with wildlife in unexpected places or circumstances, a quite different and intense type of reaction can occur! At that moment of contact, our emotional responses might vary from one of fear, to wonderment, uncertainty, or even privilege. In extreme cases we may even switch into ‘fight or flight’ mode.
They are likely to be unique moments that stay with us forever and may never be repeated, locked vividly in the mind. That said there are some instances, such as the encounter with the bear above, that I would prefer not to come up against again!
Fear
My mind goes back to the time I spent in the tiny state of San Marino. On a warm morning I was walking along a farm track and suddenly leapt out of my skin! From the bordering maize field a black snake, one to two metres long, shot out, no more than half a metre in front of my stride, crossed the track and disappeared into the scrub on the other side. I’ve no idea what the species was, but it certainly wasn’t slithering lazily across my path, for it was clearly out on a mission! I’m not sure how high I jumped, but it made me very wary and watchful for the next hour or so of the walk.
Some years later during a forest walk in Khao Yai National Park, Thailand, I almost stood on a large reptile that was lying where the sun was spotlighting the forest path. I carefully gave it a wide berth and carried on, but on the return walk it was still lying there. I was unsure what it was. Although it had not appeared to have moved during the intervening few hours, there was no obvious sign of injury, or whether it was still alive, but I did not fancy trying too hard to find out! It was only much later when doing some research on the fauna found in the park, that I realised it could have been a monitor lizard, but could not be fully certain about it.
Of course it doesn’t require the spectacular or the unusual to provide pleasure. It can be derived from simply watching the behaviours of species we are unfamiliar with at home such as watching the antics of common lizards scrambling around the walls and dried-out leaves in the Mediterranean sun, or studying the alertness of Columbian ground squirrels and chipmunks in North America. Such moments can bring joy and remind us of the rich flora and fauna with whom we share the planet. Nevertheless, there are experiences which can raise the sense of wonder to another level completely.
Unique moments
One such occasion was at Roaring Bay in the Catlins region in the south east of New Zealand’s South Island. Although part of a conservation project, it felt wild as we walked down to the hide overlooking the bay, ringed by a wide sandy beach and backed by gentle grassy and bushy slopes. Although initially we did not hold out much hope, it was almost 3 pm, a time when the yellow–eyed penguins start coming ashore. After ten minutes, and to our astonishment, we caught sight of a penguin off to our left, perhaps thirty metres away, halfway up the cliff in the grass. Another joined it. I suppose I had expected the penguins to have been a bit smaller, but they stood nearly a metre high. At first they looked around, as if to ensure the path was safe and clear, and then in stops and starts they made their way down to the beach before picking up speed to dash across the beach to the sea – straight in, swimming with their heads periodically breaking the surface until finally disappearing from view. It was an amazing sight to witness - just us and the penguins - even if they were doing the reverse of what was meant to occur!
There was no sign of other penguins but we decided to stay for another ten minutes in the vain hope of seeing others emerge from the sea. Within two minutes we struck lucky! At almost the same spot where the others had entered the water, we saw one (could it have been one of the first pair?) emerge from the wash and get to its feet before heading up the beach. It reached the grass at the back of the beach and spent five minutes preening before climbing up the slope until we lost sight of it among the long grasses and bushes.
Although we saw other yellow–eyed penguins on the Otago Peninsula and later Fiordland Crested Penguins at Doubtful and Milford Sounds on the same trip, it was not in the same fulfilling way as our moment in The Catlins.
We felt similarly privileged near Camp Eqi, Greenland where we came face to face with an adult Arctic Fox in its dark grey summer coat. In the harsh winter its coat changes to white and be the warmest fur of any known animal. Although smaller than the British fox we were more familiar with, it showed some curiosity in us for five minutes while all the time keeping a watchful and respectful distance. Eventually it decided to move on to continue its foraging.
In alpine areas I have watched marmots guarding their burrows above Chamonix in the French Alps and up on Hurricane Ridge in the Olympic Mountains of Washington State. More rewarding though was sharing a rest stop with an inquisitive marmot in Alaska's Denali National Park. Squatting only a few metres away from me amongst the rocks, it remained stationery whilst I gently changed the lens on my camera. It seemed content to pose for me as if it wanted its moment in the limelight!
I have also marvelled at sea otters playing and eating whilst our ferry was berthed at Valdez, Alaska. If the otters came back up with something to eat, they would float on their back and begin breaking into the shell using their belly as a table!
On the same trip I recall the spectacle of seeing a mass of salmon filling the bay at Sitka whilst waiting for the ferry to arrive. The salmon were gathering before continuing their spawning runs up the tumbling streams to lay and fertilise their eggs before dying.
Out on safari?
Perhaps the nearest I have come to being on a full safari was at Denali National Park in Alaska. Here, no cars are allowed into the park. Instead, visitors take buses that depart regularly for the 50-70 mile ride into the heart of the park. The bus drivers are in regular contact with each other, so they know what wildlife has been spotted along the road. At one stop, we were unable to see the animal’s full body but above the thick bushes, we could see the full span of the palm rack of antlers that signified a huge moose grazing. Later our bus drove slowly alongside a fox running with a rabbit in its mouth. However, the stand out highlight had been watching a bear chase a wolf for 10 minutes across the slopes. The wolf appeared to tease the bear by allowing it to get within a certain distance at which point it would take off and put a safe distance between them. This ‘game’ occurred three or four times before the wolf had had enough and disappeared over a ridge.
I have been fortunate to see a moose at close quarters whilst staying in the Alaskan community of Chitina. As I walked along the town street, one walked out from the scrub bush and strolled across the road in front of me without any concern. Another occasion occurred when driving along the Icefields Parkway in the Canadian Rockies. Here, the moose had appeared content to run parallel to the road before suddenly deciding to cross in front of us, forcing us to brake sharply.
Whale watching trips are another safari-type activity. We have undertaken these in Clayoquot Sound, Vancouver Island and in the waters between Faial and Pico in the Azores, but on each occasion only saw a limited number plus some dolphins. The sheltered coastal waters of western Greenland though provided our best sightings. On one occasion in the channel between Narsaq and Qaqortoq our boat was able to quietly circle around a humpback whale affording clear views of its blowhole, before it arched its back, performed the ‘tail fluke flip’ and dived down into the fjord. It was hard to imagine ever getting a closer and clearer sighting.
The funny side …
Of course one needs to accept and sometimes be amused at the cunning of wildlife, even if it may have been annoying at the time. In Corsica we had stopped to eat and have a break. We opened up the car boot and begun to take things out, when from nowhere a sow stuck her snout into the boot and set about devouring our picnic, giving her growing litter a lesson in how it was done! Up close one realised how powerful these wild pigs were. They were hard to argue with! On another occasion when wild camping on the slopes above Potes in the Picos de Europa, Northern Spain, I went off for a short wander early in the morning to stretch my legs. Having clambered up to a little rocky outcrop nearby, I looked back and had to laugh as some goats had taken advantage of my absence and come down from the crags to eat the remains of my breakfast sitting outside my tent!
Conflict
The recent story of a polar bear being shot dead by a cruise ship operator in Svalbard for posing a threat to the visitors off the ship illustrate how the habitats of animals like the polar bear are diminishing due to ice melt and climate change. Out of necessity, wildlife will venture into less familiar territory in their search for food, increasing their risk of human contact. We need to remember that for the privilege of travelling, we are often treading on their territory that should demand our respect. The focus cannot narrowly be on protecting the animals but must necessarily be on their wider habitats and ecosystems on which they are dependent and ultimately the earth’s climate. Recent reports of the continuing and current loss of our forests are also a reminder that ever more resolute action is needed to protect them and all that depend on them.
PRACTICAL TIPS
If you are visiting parks and other areas where there are bear populations, do make sure you keep your food well away from where you might be sleeping or relaxing, either by hanging it up over a high tree branch out of reach or by using food canisters that are often provided by park authorities. This will limit the chances of bears getting addicted to easily available human food and so maintain the safety of everybody.
These principles should be adhered to more generally. Although it can be fun, especially for children, to feed ducks or chipmunks, human food and wildlife generally don’t mix. Not only can human food be bad for the diet of wildlife, it can also encourage their increased dependence on it and lessen their natural wariness of people. They are then exposed to situations that are potentially unsafe for them as well as for ourselves and our families. We all value the enjoyment from having those moments of contact with wildlife, but we need to maintain that respectful distance so wildlife and ourselves can manage better in sharing our planet.
[N.B. Waterhole photograph courtesy of Shutterstock.com]