Two grizzly bears raised in captivity will make history this weekend when they are released
SMITHERS Suzie and Johnny should have been shot dead or shipped off to a zoo by now, because that’s the way orphaned grizzly cubs have historically been treated in B.C. Instead, the two juveniles are fat and healthy and awaiting their historic release from rehabilitation and relocation to a secret wilderness site northeast of Prince George this weekend.
More than their own future is at stake. The cubs are the leading edge of a five-year government-sanctioned experiment to see whether grizzly cubs rehabilitated in captivity can survive in the wild.
If successful, the experiment could have implications for grizzly management wherever the omnivore is found.
What makes this project unique is that the cubs will be wearing GPS radio collars, meaning researchers can track their movements and monitor their success — or failure.
There are many uncertainties. The one-andhalf-year-old cubs have little experience living in the wild: Johnny’s mother was killed by a motor vehicle in November 2007 near Purden Lake, east of Prince George; Suzie’s mother is thought to have been shot by a poacher near Tumbler Ridge in June 2007.
In the coming months, the two must decide on their own what to eat, where to travel, when to hibernate, and how to avoid predators, including adult male bears that might harm them, as well as humans.
ROLF KOPFLE/SPECIAL TO THE VANCOUVER SUNPeter and Angelika Langen, former animal handlers in Germany who founded the Northern Lights Society Rehab Facility, are visited by three of the shelter's orphaned moose calves.
Angelika Langen, who co-founded the Northern Lights Wildlife Society rehab facility (www.wildlifeshelter .com) with her husband Peter, pleads with hunters who may encounter Suzie and Johnny to look for their radio-collars and let them be.
“Give them a chance to live in nature and prove that rehabilitation is an option,” she asks.
The grizzly hunt endures in B.C. despite widespread public opposition. The Ministry of Environment reports 426 grizzlies were killed in 2007, 365 from hunting and 61 “conflict kills.”
The ministry estimates there are 17,000 grizzlies in the province, and sets a target of a maximum “humancaused mortality” of six per cent in any population.
If the GPS readings suggest Suzie and Johnny are approaching human settlements such as remote work camps in search of food, researchers are prepared to intervene with loud noise-making devices or even rubber bullets.
Based on experience with black bears, the Langens don’t believe that will be a problem.
Of 130 black bears (plus two Kermode or white spirit bears) that Northern Lights has released to date, only two were shot by residents for coming uncomfortably close to homes, in Penticton and Cache Creek. The couple now tries to ensure that release sites are remote enough to give the bears one to two weeks in the wilderness to get used to their new lives before encountering a human.
Another three of the released black bears were shot by hunters, who reported the kills as requested on ear tags.
As far as the couple knows, the others went on to live natural lives, which in this modern era includes the prospect of being hit by a motor vehicle. None of the bears returned to the Smithers rehab facility, located on 120 hectares a 10-minute drive north of Smithers next to Babine Mountains Provincial Park.
What Suzie — sporting a slightly lighter coat — and Johnny have in their favour is a good head start: they are dewormed, and fatter and bigger for their age than wild bears due to regular nutritious feedings.
The bears can also rely on each other in the coming days. “They’ve become best of friends,” says Angelika Langen, watching the two roughhousing in their enclosure.
She adds that the grizzlies are intelligent creatures, having watched them poke a strawberry with a claw and raise it to their mouth as though using a fork.
She has also observed one digging a day bed for both to sleep in, while the other kept watch on their surroundings.
She cannot predict exactly how Suzie and Johnny will react when they are released in the wild, but expects them to be curious about their new world and to luxuriate in their freedom.
“I think they will be very happy to be out on their own. I believe it’s something that will work. We want them to go wild.”
The Langens used to be animal handlers in Germany, at zoos in Cologne and Augsburg. Peter, now 64, specialized in the big cats and has scars on his forehead and finger from the time a male lion scratched him through the bars.
Angelika, 48, prefers to care for younger animals, and she still sheds a tear when one dies in her care. “It’s an emotional strain, very hard to take. You put a lot of yourself into it, and it can be overwhelming.”
The couple moved to B.C. in 1982 in hopes of starting a guest ranch with her parents, who arrived one year earlier. (Her father, Rolf Krahe, operates an owl-breeding and research facility nearby, and is participating in a ministry program for captive breeding of endangered northern spotted owls.)
Then the couple spotted a story in the local newspaper in 1986 in which two moose calves had been left orphaned after their mother was killed by a train.
It immediately occurred to them that they had the property and the knowledge of working with wild animals. Opening a rehab facility for orphaned animals seemed a natural fit.
“There was never a grand scheme or vision,” she said, noting that growing up in a populous country with no wilderness also factored into their decision.
They opened Northern Lights in 1990 and became a registered society in 2002, so they could issue taxdeductible receipts to donors.
Angelika Langen says the government has never been enthusiastic about returning rehabilitated wildlife to the wild, but that the couple has steadfastly made inroads. “We’re of good German background — quite stubborn.”
She attributes the long-standing government reluctance to release grizzlies to concerns over liability should a rehabbed bear injure a person, and fears the government over time might be pressured to assume the financial costs of such programs.
She said the ministry currently allows the rehab of grizzlies on a case-by-case basis.
Northern Lights has an annual operating budget of $60,000, money that is stretched further with the assistance of four volunteers who help with feeding and chores.
The Langens insist they want to stay as independent as possible, although they did accept a $5,000 grant from the province’s Habitat Conservation Trust Fund as part of a $60,000 capital project to quadruple the size of the grizzly enclosure to 743 square metres (8,000 square feet).
“It’s i mportant to stay independent,” she said. “I can say my own words, and don’t have to report to anyone.” The couple support themselves by offering horseback programs, including trail rides and kids’ camps. Their 25-year-old daughter, Tanja, mainly helps out with that side of the operation, while their 20-yearold son, Michael, has just graduated from BCIT’s architectural drafting program.
Northern Lights is the only rehab centre that accepts bears from around the province, faithfully returning them to their home area at the time of release, a move that undercuts the argument they are dumping bears where they don’t belong.
While Northern Lights specializes in bears, it does accept all manner of critters. The couple prefers that birds go to other facilities that can handle them; Peter suffers from pigeon breeders’ disease, in which bird droppings can cause pneumonia. The current list of young orphaned birds on site includes four kestrels (kestrels are a small type of falcon; two of the four are siblings) and two western screech owls.
Other odds and ends include a coati mundi, a Latin American animal that looks equal parts raccoon and anteater that the SPCA seized as a pet in Dawson Creek.
On the domestic mammalian front, there is a female cougar rescued from the Kelowna wildfires, which the ministry refused to allow to be released so it must now be caged for life; two red foxes, three black-tailed deer fawns, three black bears, four coyote pups, and five moose calves.
When I enter the moose enclosure, the calves gather around to stick their noses into my notepad. “This is Goliath,” says Angelika, patting the head of the smallest. “She can grow into her name.” Another, Kelsey, sports a split lip suffered when bitten by dogs near Prince George. Of 50 moose taken in over the years, 20 have died before they could be released; some had broken limbs from accidents, or suffered from diarrhea in captivity.
For the 30 moose released in the fall, the tendency has been to linger the first months for handouts that include specially formulated pellets, fruit, and vegetables, then return on a less frequent basis into adulthood.
Two years ago, an unfamiliar cow moose showed up with an ear tag. Angelika Langen checked the number in her records, and discovered it was Molly, a moose she hadn’t seen in eight years. “She was pregnant. It was a tough year and she remembered where to go to get help. They all do that. They come back for visits.”
She is aware of two released moose that were shot in legal hunts. It’s never easy to accept, but she realizes hunting is part of the northern culture. The moose enclosure was actually built with a $4,000 donation from the Smithers Rod and Gun Club. “We all want the wildlife to stay with us,” she says.
But the couple has no time for people who trophy-hunt purely for sport — and that’s precisely why grizzlies are shot in this province.
“To see a living creature degraded to a moving target,” says Peter Langen, shaking his head. “It’s hard to understand.”