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Alberta's 'bear whisperer' at home with grizzlies
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Mark Stevenson, CTV Wildlife and Environment reporter, CTV News Staff
Date: Sat. Oct. 5 2002 9:36 PM ET
COCHRANE, ALBERTA Charlie Russell doesn't seem like the kind of person who would purposefully live among hundreds of grizzlies in a remote section of Siberia. Gentle and soft-spoken, the Alberta naturalist lacks the macho swagger of other men gripped by a deep fascination with the predator.
But those who know Mr. Russell say it is his tender demeanour that has allowed him to develop a unique relationship with grizzlies, walking, swimming and rubbing noses with the giants. It has earned him a reputation as the "bear whisperer," who speaks in a soft voice to the animals to calm their fear, something he says is at the root of most attacks.
"The most amazing thing perhaps that we've discovered is that grizzly bears are basically peace-loving animals," says Mr. Russell, sitting outside the sprawling property in Cochrane, Alta., that he shares with his partner, Maureen Enns, an artist.
But the naturalist's belief that people and bears should not be afraid of one another is considered dangerous by most wildlife officials. It challenges a fundamental rule that has governed wildlife management - that people and bears should be apart.
The son of Andy Russell, a renowned naturalist and author, Mr. Russell noticed on his ranch in Southern Alberta that grizzlies often walked among his cattle without troubling them.
But it was an encounter on the same ranch more than 20 years ago that drove him to understand why bears attack people. While walking with his son, he spotted a black bear and yelled at it to go away. He was attacked.
"Luckily, I survived," he says. "[But] it triggered my wanting to explore how to get along with these animals because I realized it was something I had done that triggered the problem. I never blamed the bear."
Later, as guide on the B.C. coast, he spent years observing grizzlies and their behaviour. One of them even allowed him to put his hand in its mouth and touch its teeth.
In the early 1990s, he made friends with a rare Kermode bear while living on Princess Royal Island in B.C., and he wrote about his relationship in the book Spirit Bear in an effort to stop logging on the island.
Based on his experience, Mr. Russell wanted to explore what would happen if people and grizzlies lived closer to one another, something, he says, no one would allow in North America. "They want to keep people and bears separated," he says. "They want to keep them afraid of people. And they want to keep people afraid of bears."
That took Mr. Russell to Russia, specifically Siberia, home to the largest population of grizzlies in the world, a story he chronicles in Grizzly Heart, a book he co-wrote with Ms. Enns and soon to be released.
He found local officials willing to accommodate his request for an isolated location where bears had little or no contact with humans and where he could get as close to them as he wished, while testing his theory that fear is at the root of most attacks. The officials were willing, so long as Mr. Russell and Ms. Enns agreed to donate an ultralight plane to the local government, as well as pay the salary of the leading bear expert in the region.
In 1996, the couple built a cabin at the foot of Kambalnoe Volcano, next to a lake in the South Kamchatka Sanctuary, an area where human activity is strictly regulated. A peninsula in eastern Russian flanked by the Sea of Okhotsk and the Pacific, Kamchatka has an estimated 8,000 brown bears, a species that includes the grizzly, the Kodiak and the Kamchatka.
The couple's cabin is surrounded by an electric fence to keep grizzlies out. But beyond the fence, they are armed only with bear spray. In countless encounters with bears over the years, Mr. Russell says, they have never had to use it. They talk softly to bears, get out of their way and do everything to show them that they are not afraid and that the animals have no reason to fear them.
In 1997, the couple adopted three orphan cubs, Chico, Biscuit and Rosie, from a zoo in Petropavlovsk, the regional capital. They slowly reintroduced the bears to the wild, showing them how to fish and making sure they were ready for hibernation, while watching them grow into adults.
Over the years, Mr. Russell says, the couple have spent numerous days walking with the trio, swimming and meeting other bears. They have had countless encounters with other grizzlies, including mothers and their cubs, he says, and never have they been attacked.
Barrie Gilbert, a Canadian grizzly expert and wildlife researcher with Utah State University, worries that the images of Mr. Russell frolicking with grizzlies send a dangerous message to people who will try to do the same in North America.
"We know that bears are killers," he says. "And that they can kill us and eat us."
Mr. Gilbert has personal experience. Mauled within an inch of his life during a grizzly attack in Yellowstone more than 20 years ago, he lost his left eye and much of the flesh on the left side of his face.
He agrees with Mr. Russell that grizzlies, and bears in general, have been demonized even though they are often predictable and safe.
But he argues that Kamchatka grizzlies and other coastal bears are far less aggressive than grizzlies found in the interior. Coastal bears grow fat and relatively docile on rivers rich in salmon, he says, while other grizzlies have a much more difficult time finding food, making them more aggressive.
"To apply what Russell is doing in the mountain parks, from Jasper down to Yellowstone, would be a serious mistake.
"Those animals are a lot more territorial, they're a lot more aggressive . . . And if they're hungrier, they're a lot more likely to tear pieces off and eat them."
But Mr. Russell says the problem with North American bears is that they have been conditioned to fear humans and be aggressive. Learning to talk calmly to bears and get out of their way can defuse dangerous confrontations and prevent attacks, he says.
By doing so, he says, bears would be less aggressive, allowing the animals to live in peace closer to people and their communities, something he insists is required since a growing number of people are moving into bear habitats.
"I think we should be afraid of grizzlies," he says. "I'm afraid of grizzlies when we go to areas when they are managed [in a way that makes them] afraid of me."
Stephen Herrero, a world-renowned bear expert who studies bear attacks, says Mr. Russell's work is helping to demystify the danger of the bear, something that has been done to some extent in recent decades with wolves.
Although grizzlies and black bears kill an average of three people every year in North America, seriously injuring another 10 or so, Mr. Herrero says the number is very small considering the millions of interactions between bears and people every year.
By learning to behave appropriately around bears, he says, both people and bears will be better off. "When bears are relaxed, they are safer to be around," he says.
If more people were sensitive to bears in Canada, including wildlife officials, Mr. Herrero says, the result would be dramatic. "It would be a very dramatic revolution in the way we manage our affairs around bears."
But Mr. Russell does not expect that to happen soon. For one thing, his idea that bears should be allowed to live closer to people outside reserves and parks has not ingratiated him with many environmentalists, who use the plight of the grizzly to argue for more protected land.
As well, he says, many wildlife officials have built their careers around managing bears in a way that keeps them away from people. "I think most wildlife officials can't imagine people and bears together getting along," he says. "To put people and bears in the same area always spells disaster for them."
Yet Mr. Russell has won the hearts of many wildlife biologists, who recognize that his relationship with bears is far closer than anything they have experienced. As well, they appreciate his effort to understand one of the world's most misunderstood creatures.
"He's an absolutely amazing guy," says Mike Gibeau, a bear scientist with Banff National Park. "He thinks like a bear. He acts like a bear. He fundamentally understands bears."
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