Friend of IT
Tobias Nowlan just came face-to-face with ferocious polar bears. (And no, he's not on the Island from
Lost.)

A siren echoes over town. Now gunshots; one, two, three... A Range Rover pulls up beside me, a man leans out: "get inside now--there's a bear in town!" The aurora flickers dimly and greenly above Hudson Bay. Stalactites have formed on the rim of my woolen hat. I wander back inside.
It's my first night in Churchill, Manitoba. It's taken 18 hours to get here. There are no roads to Churchill--only planes and trains can get there. The train journey takes two days, but is cheaper, and may reward travelers with caribou, moose, and wolf sightings. I've come here for one reason: Churchill has been dubbed the "Polar Bear Capital of the World."
Polar bears gather here every fall, waiting for the waters of Hudson Bay to freeze entirely so they can hunt blubber-coated ringed seals on the ice. Trapped on land for months, the bears are starved. They would kill me in a second given the chance. Due to climatic warming, the bay now freezes later, reducing the bears' hunting season (their hunger increasing each year). The species is literally starving to death.
Driven to come to Churchill by a "see them while you can" motive, tourists are trundled over tundra by
Tundra Buggies, weaving them between hungry bears. The leviathan trucks will approach bears for a while and stop: Tundra Buggies stick to a policy of not chasing bears and interfering as little as possible. Vehicles follow set tracks closely, and specific areas are designated for specific trucks, preventing Masai Mara-type situations of 12 trucks watching one animal. I found little ethical fault in this thriving industry, and saw that each season, thousands learn of the polar bear's climate change-induced demise firsthand. This doesn't account for the regular occurrence of photographers oblivious to the disturbance of their own volume and of the bears' superb hearing.
I see a mere 70 polar bears this weekend, including sparring (fighting) males, and a mother with cubs. I also watch a huge male try the ice out in the bay, his rear half collapsing through with every other step. He groans as he breaks the ice, falling into freezing water. He cannot afford to get this wet now without the promise of food any time soon. As our world warms, and Churchill's "polar bear season" is likely extended, this scene may become a more frequent one.
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