The Polar Bear and The Net

I recently made a first trip to the Arctic to photograph polar bears and walrus, Arctic fox, ivory gulls and other Arctic birds, and the dramatic landscapes that uniquely characterize the polar extremes. I also just wanted to be there, to experience the place. And I have to say, upon arriving in the pack ice north of Svalbard, the experience overwhelmed me.

It was vast, cold, harsh, barren. I thought of my ancestors, believed to have come from Fogo Island in remote northern Canada, and what their lives must have been like living so far north. I thought of the early polar explorers who braved the Arctic ice, many of whom never survived, suffering horrible deaths. It all seemed unfathomable, desolate, lonely, and beautiful.

In time, as we moved further north and east, deeper into the pack ice, a lone polar bear was sighted far off in the distance. We approached slowly, carefully, not wanting to disturb the bear or to alarm it. We could see that it was on a seal carcass, and as we moved closer, could determine that it was a young female, probably five years old (more or less). We stopped a few hundred meters away and watched for a while, and once confident that she seemed comfortable with our presence, we slowly moved in a bit closer, eventually stopping about fifty meters away from her.

For the next hour we watched her, and she seemed calm and relaxed. Sitting, jumping from floe to floe, swimming, and tossing about what remained of the seal carcass. As a younger bear, she was curious about us, not approaching too closely, but perhaps wondering what we were, and whether we might be a source of food. At times her antics were comical, the way that bears can be, especially when the ice would break beneath her weight unexpectedly.

At one point, she slipped underneath the ice and then reappeared in the water, caught in a heavy fishing net.

We were stunned, horrified. What had been a magical visit, quietly observing the behavior of this beautiful bear, deep in the Arctic pack ice, was going very wrong. Were we to simply watch while she drowned? Was there anything we could do, ethically or otherwise? The encounter so far had been so unique, so intimate, that the entire crew of the ship was out on deck, watching with the rest of us. I sensed that the captain and our expedition leaders were several steps ahead of the rest of us, working through in their heads what could be done, if anything.

The seconds seemed to drag on and on. An old cliché, but time did in fact seem to stand still. And then, suddenly she was free.

Polar Bears International estimates that the total world population of polar bears is approximately 26,000, all concentrated in the northern and Arctic regions of Canada, Alaska, Greenland, Svalbard and Russia. In a research article published in 2022 in the American Association for the Advancement of Science’s Science Advances journal, it was estimated that “nearly 2% of all fishing gear, comprising 2963 km2 of gillnets, 75,049 km2 of purse seine nets, 218 km2 of trawl nets, 739,583 km of longline mainlines, and more than 25 million pots and traps are lost to the ocean annually.” That’s a hell of a lot of what is referred to as “ghost gear” abandoned out there in the oceans. Considering just the fishing nets alone, that equates to an area the same size as the country of Panama. And while there are no reliable estimates for how many polar bears might perish each year from being entangled in abandoned fishing nets, there are numerous reports of the impact of abandoned fishing nets on other species, including the vaquita porpoise in the Gulf of Mexico, which has been driven to near extinction (as of last year, it is estimated that just ten individuals remain.)

I could only find a small handful of published reports of polar bears becoming entangled in fishing nets. One incident occurred in 2015, when a polar bear was found entrapped in an abandoned fishing net on a small barrier island in the Beaufort Sea off Alaska. With the help of local residents and U.S. authorities, it was freed and released back into the wild. In a 2014 report, two bears, in separate incidents, were successfully freed from net entanglements in and around Spitsbergen in Svalbard. There may be other reports, I just haven’t found them. My point is that unless a human is present to witness the event, it won’t be recorded as a statistic. Had we not been there on this day, it is likely no one would have known about it.

Thankfully our bear escaped unharmed. In fact later that day we came across the same bear, just as relaxed and playful as before. But that net (and others) still lurks out there and tomorrow she might not be so lucky. I later asked Christian, our lead expedition leader, what if anything could have been done to save the bear, had she not been able to free herself. He replied that there were no good options available to the crew, intervening on their own would likely have increased the risk to both the bear and to the crew. The only real option would have been to contact the authorities in Longyearbyen (the government seat in Svalbard) and hope they could mobilize in time to save her.

Polar bears face serious challenges from climate change, commercial activity, conflicts with people, disease,  poorly regulated harvest, and, as an apex predator, the build-up of toxins within their bodies that work their way up the food chain. To that list we must add the potentially disastrous effects of ghost gear, and find a way to become more vigilant and responsible as a society to reduce what are truly stunningly large volumes of discarded fishing gear.

A special thanks to the captain and crew of the M/S Stockholm, and expedition leaders Christian Engelke and Japp Van Rijckevorsel for handling the encounter in such a sensitive way, always focused on the bear’s well being, and taking every precaution to ensure that our presence would not stress the bear or change its behavior. Later in the trip, we witnessed another expedition group’s drone harassing a resting bear on the fast ice in Spitzbergen’s Wahlenberg fjord. Svalbard will next year implement more strict regulations governing the use of drones (essentially banning them entirely), and increasing the closest allowable distances that must be maintained between the expedition ships, their guests, and the bears. It is unfortunate that Svalbard had to take these steps, as they will reduce the opportunity for responsible visitors to get up close to these magnificent creatures. But it is understandable that the government has deemed these measures as necessary, and not such a surprise given the behavior that we had witnessed.*

Chuck Wood is a photographer who is passionate about wildlife, nature, conservation, and culture. This article originally appeared on his website, Chuck Wood Photography, and is reprinted here with permission.

*Editor’s note: The inappropriate use of drones that disturb polar bears and other wildlife is a growing conservation concern, and Polar Bears International is working with partners on a set of guidelines on drone use. It's also important to set standards on viewing distances to ensure that the bears aren’t disturbed in a biologically meaningful way by people viewing and or photographing them. We're embarking on studies to gain insights on how close is too close. The data will provide wildlife managers across the polar bears’ range with a basis for making informed decisions, keeping polar bears and people safe.