Walking to Polar Bears

How do you approach a polar bear? I confess, it’s not a question I spent time contemplating until I began exploring my options for a polar bear expedition. Canada’s Churchill in northern Manitoba, otherwise known as the polar bear capital of the world and possibly the only place with a polar bear jail, seemed the logical place to go, but I found myself quickly inundated by ads for tundra buggy excursions. The idea of approaching a polar bear in the equivalent of a jacked up all-terrain tractor trailer bus seemed at the very least unnatural. I now realize such a vehicle parked on the Churchill tundra probably provides much entertainment for bored polar bears, who at the time of the fall tourist season are killing time while awaiting sea ice to form across the Hudson Bay so they can reach their seal hunting grounds. But the more I researched, the less I liked the idea of being stuck in a glorified tin can with forty to fifty people fighting over limited outdoor viewing space to look down on a polar bear. So it was a great relief when I discovered Churchill Wild, a family-run operation that walks to the polar bears from remote wilderness lodges. This was the type of polar bear approach I could get excited about.

Polar bear jail (holding facility) in Churchill.
Tundra buggy at a passenger loading facility.
Polar bear approaching the Seal River Lodge, one of Churchill Wild's remote accommodations.
Single file line moving toward a polar bear.

The walking tours at Churchill Wild are solidly founded on an understanding of polar bears and their behavior, which is really how all wildlife tours should operate. How does it work? Imagine a polar bear asleep on a snow bank, which they do a fair amount of as they wait for that sea ice to form. It looks peaceful and our group of about a dozen doesn’t want to disturb it, so we walk slowly and quietly in a single-file line, appearing as small and non-threatening as possible. We stop a healthy distance away. It may still look asleep, but the polar bear is aware of our presence. We still don’t want to disturb it, nor do we want to appear edible. After all, their main winter prey, ringed seals, are nearly human-size and shape. So to appear less appetizing, we fan out in a line perpendicular to the bear, sticking close together to appear as one intruder and something more than the bear would choose to tangle with. There’s the added benefit that now everyone in the group has a good view. Hours could pass in such status quo. The human line might move a little closer. The bear might yawn, or maybe even stretch and turn. Most of the time, it is the humans that get cold and antsy, content with their eye level encounter yet choosing to leave before the bear breaks its inertia.

A bear on the move is a slightly different matter. While hoping for an encounter, we again stay in a single file line directly facing the animal. There are vast stretches of land where the bear could go, but these animals often choose a route leading directly toward their human visitors. Again, the goal is not to be mistaken for prey, so we fan our line out perpendicularly into our larger, more formidable formation. In most cases, the bear continues approaching. As it nears, the guides launch our defenses – they begin talking to the polar bear.

Yes, you read that correctly; talking to the polar bear is Churchill Wild’s first line of defense. It sounds strange, but polar bears are solitary animals that make no noise. They’re not used to being addressed and that very simple act rouses curiosity rather than a hunting instinct. The talk gets louder and, let’s be honest, a little more urgent as the polar bear reaches a few meters away, but the content continues to be casual, something along the lines of “Hi, Mr. Bear. So nice of you to visit, but you best be on your way. Keep moving, keep moving…”

The second line of defense? A snowball. If Mr. Bear’s surprisingly rapid stride isn’t deterred by conversation, or if the bear pauses too long and alertly in our vicinity, the guides begin pitching a snowball or two. A single tiny ball of snow aimed squarely at a massive flank was enough to send any bear running in the opposite direction. Again, just like the talking, who touches a polar bear? No one; and so it seems a rather disconcerting experience for the bear, sending them bounding in the opposite direction.

I’m pretty sure there were several other lines of defense described to us at the beginning of our visit ranging from noisemakers and stones all the way up to the last resort, the hefty shot guns carried by all guides. We were reassured though that in the 25 years of Churchill Wild’s operation, things rarely escalated past snowball level, which leads me to believe that the best way to approach a polar bear is with a deep understanding of its behavior.

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