Saturday 12 January 2013





He’s magnificent. We creep further inshore to get as close as we can while keeping a respectful distance. We can’t take our eyes off him. He also can’t take his eyes off us. For a full five minutes he doesn’t move a muscle but holds us in his magnetic stare - for what seems like hours. Clicking and whirring sounds stop and spellbound silence dominates.  He has his fresh kill and he’s not going to give it up lightly.

The wild animal I see before me now is not cute and lovable. It is an enormous, wild, rough at the edges male polar bear, dripping with blood from its dead seal, alert, poised and ready to pounce should someone or something get between it and it’s food. I do not feel like giving him a name and reducing him to cuddly toy status, that would be a grave insult. Huge respect and a dose of healthy fear seem the best responses. Easy done.

I think back to the polar bear I saw in a zoo many years ago.  A zoo is no substitute for what I’m looking at now. This is not the same animal, nothing like. I wonder what we think about when we present our children with a bear on a plate. (A bit like a pork chop wrapped in cellophane.) What exactly are we teaching them? That this is how a polar bear lives? Clearly not. That this is how they behave? Not even nearly. That this is what one looks like? Well, only just. It’s more like teaching them not to enquire or dream or imagine or, perish the thought, strive to see these animals in their natural habitat one day before the ice melts. Just have a quick look, eat your ice-cream and move on to the next one. Box ticked. 

As we go slowly astern and leave this animal to do what it does, I feel incredibly lucky and privileged to have witnessed such a sight - and a privilege it is, not an automatic right. There is no sense of entitlement here. Iconic and cliched polar bears may be, but these majestic animals are so for good reason. They’re worthy of our dreams and imaginings, as well as a bit of thought and care before we barge into the Arctic drilling for oil. It might be worth expanding the conversation a bit when we take our kids to the zoo.












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