Alaska's newest wildlife experiment: Snaring and shooting brown bears
Bear snare.
Anchorage Press
Picture this: An adult female grizzly bear is roaming forested lowlands on the western side of Cook Inlet when she gets a whiff of ripe, decaying flesh. Sensing an easy meal, the bear follows her nose to a large tree. Several feet above the ground, a bucket partly filled with rotting guts and skin has been attached to the tree; placed on its side, the open-lidded container faces outward, inviting inspection. The grizzly stands and sniffs around the cavity, then sticks her right paw into it. When the paw hits the bottom of the pail, it triggers a metal snare that closes around the animal's foot. Feeling the pinch of the trap, the grizzly pulls back. As she does, the metal loop tightens.
Bears, like humans, have different personalities. Once caught, some might struggle a bit then give up, behave in what a person might interpret as a submissive, even calm way. But this female grizzly has a more aggressive, excitable nature. Besides that, she happens to be a mom. Two cubs have followed her to the bait. Now, sensing their mother's agitation, they too become upset. One begins to bawl. This only deepens the adult bear's determination to free herself. With her free paw she swats and tears at the bucket and tree and she pulls even harder against the snare, which begins to cut through the animal's thick fur and into her flesh. Now the embodiment of rage, the adult grizzly roars and snaps her jaws, thrashes about. The cubs wail louder.
Eventually exhausted by her struggles, the grizzly mom slumps against the tree, while the whimpering cubs huddle together nearby. More time passes and the trapped grizzly resumes her fight for freedom. The cubs again cry in panic.It goes like this for hours. A day might pass before the trapper-called a "snare permittee" by state wildlife officials-comes to check the snare, even longer if he's delayed for some reason. When he does show up, the grizzly mom goes berserk. Depending on their age and personalities, the cubs might charge the person, run off, or huddle in fear. These two retreat into nearby bushes.
The trapper could legally shoot the cubs, now in their second year, but he chooses to ignore the small, frightened bears and heads for their mom. He takes aim, fires his gun, and kills her with a single shot, then begins the process of removing the grizzly from the snare and collecting her hide and skull, which he must bring back to state authorities.
The cubs remain in hiding. Without their mother, it's more likely they will starve than survive the summer.
Even five years ago, the idea was unimaginable: trap and shoot Alaska's bears so that human hunters might kill more moose.
Okay, that's not entirely true. Always trying to come up with new ways to rid Alaska's landscape of competitors for moose and caribou meat, at least a few predator-control proponents, Ted Spraker among them, were looking toward Maine, then the only state to allow the snaring of bears. A retired Department of Fish and Game biologist who worked nearly three decades for the state, Spraker has been among the most influential members of the Alaska Board of Game since joining it in 2003. Employing a calm, thoughtful style, he's successfully pushed for increasing kills of wolves and bears, primarily to benefit sport hunters.
Though I can't recall the exact year, I do remember Spraker's casual mention of bear snaring at a BOG meeting in the early 2000s and his suggestion that it might be a management "tool" worth considering some day. I also remember being both flabbergasted and amused, and thinking, Can he be serious? That will never happen here.
Unlike wolves, the target of state-run predator-control programs for decades, Alaska's bears-especially brown and grizzly bears-had been treated with considerable respect since statehood. They are charismatic critters, big-game trophy animals, iconic species that symbolize wilderness and attract both camera-toting tourists and rifle-carrying hunters to Alaska. The importance of bears to Alaska's hunting, guiding and tourism communities seemed to assure that they would never be put in the state's predator-control crosshairs.
Wow, was I wrong. In 2007, for the first time in state history, the BOG approved a black-bear control program, to be done in Game Management Unit 16, across Cook Inlet from Anchorage. As I reported in the Press ("Gunning for black bears," May 2008), the goal was to "remove" more than half of the 2,000 black bears estimated to inhabit that area. To do so, the state encouraged hunters to establish bait stations throughout the targeted area. And to make things simple, those hunters-deemed "agents of the state"-were encouraged to kill any and all black bears they lured into those stations, including adult females with cubs and even the cubs themselves.
I can't emphasize enough what a staggering turnabout this was. Alaska's wildlife managers and hunting community have traditionally paid special deference to female bears with cubs; for a hunter to kill one was not only illegal but the worst kind of behavior, shameful and abhorrent. When the BOG discussed the proposed bear-control program in March 2007, the idea that state wildlife managers would allow, even encourage, hunters to kill moms with cubs and their offspring seemed so wrong-headed and appalling, that some of the board's softer-hearted members expressed uneasiness. But in the end, the board mustered up the will to approve the killing of all black bears, no matter their sex or age. If some cubs happened to run off and die a slow death, well that was sure unfortunate, but what could you do? Nature, as we all know, can be cruel. This wouldn't be much different.
The BOG also decided hunters wouldn't have to salvage the bear meat, only hides and skulls. And they could obtain permits to sell those skulls, plus tanned or untanned hides with claws attached, to earn some cash for their efforts. This too was an extraordinary measure, at odds with usual bans on the sale of bear parts.
Among those stunned by the new bear-kill effort were several Alaskans who'd once served on the board, including former chairman Doug Pope: "When I was on the board [in the early 1990s], bears weren't even on the radar screen. Any attempt to include them [in predator-control efforts] was like attacking the Holy Grail. The way the program has been expanded to include bears is what shocks me."
More shocks quickly followed. In 2009, at the urging of Corey Rossi (then Fish and Game's assistant commissioner for abundance management and now director of the state's Division of Wildlife Conservation) and other upper-level wildlife administrators, the BOG voted to authorize a black-bear snaring program in Unit 16. Begun in spring 2010, that snaring effort has in two years "removed" 118 black bears.
In his 2009 testimony, Rossi assured the board that snaring would not target brown bears (though individuals accidentally caught might have to be killed) and the effort would be closely supervised. But by 2011, the state's new wildlife director had changed his mind. The department proposed a new experiment, one that would target brown bears as well as black in part of Unit 16B; once again any bear would be fair game, except for females with cubs born that year and the first-year cubs themselves (older cubs and their moms can be legally trapped). In its first season, participants-the "snare permittees"-killed 21 brown bears. According to Fish and Game, none were cubs or lactating females.
Until now, the state's unprecedented bear-snaring program hasn't gotten much attention. Partly that's because the media has largely ignored it; and so far, it's been conducted on a small scale, with minimal publicity. That, of course, is how state wildlife officials want it. When asked about the snaring, they downplay it as a limited "experiment," something they're doing reluctantly, as a last resort, to save moose calves from marauding bears.
Spraker, for instance, says, "I have never been a huge fan of the technique overall, simply because it is a labor-intensive operation," a curious stance given his push for the method. "I support limited bear snaring programs to test whether we can achieve the recommended removal level to benefit moose or caribou survival, but not as a general harvest technique.
"
That last statement, too, seems strange, since Spraker and his BOG allies have reclassified black bears so that now they're now both big-game animals and furbearers, and it seems only a matter of time before trappers will be allowed to snare and shoot them under general regulations in some parts of Alaska.
Devoted wildlife conservationists have tried to stir public opposition to the snaring, with little success up until now. One group, the Alaska Wildlife Alliance, has issued "action alerts," placed ads in newspapers, and sent around a petition that asks members of the public to express their opposition to the snaring, arguing that it is cruel and unethical, and based on bad science. Or no science at all. Thousands of people have signed the petition, but most are non-residents and, as we all know, Outsiders are routinely ignored when their opinions don't mimic the state's leadership.
The BOG and Department of Fish and Game dismiss such campaigns as the actions of the usual discontented suspects: wolf- and bear-hugging "animal-rights extremists" who will oppose any and all attempts to "control" Alaska's predators. Of course anyone who protests and criticizes state wildlife policies too strenuously or for any length of time inevitably earns the title of extremist. Some predator-control advocates have tossed the label my way, because of commentaries I've written and testimony I've given at BOG meetings.
The tide, however, may be turning. Opposition to this latest snaring "experiment" and, more generally, the state's war on wolves and bears-and what else can you call it, given the effort to "remove" large numbers of the animals from Alaska's wildlands in order to benefit human hunters-seems to be growing beyond the core group of wildlife-loving dissidents. Galvanized by their shared disgust with bear snaring, a wide range of Alaskans are gearing up to fight the state's increasingly extreme efforts to kill bears (and wolves), in a battle that seems certain to go public at this month's BOG meeting which begins Friday at the Anchorage Hilton Hotel.
In recent weeks I've talked and exchanged emails with numerous wildlife scientists, former BOG members, representatives of mainstream environmental groups, and some of Alaska's elder statesmen (and women), all of them opposed to bear snaring and many prepared to tell the BOG so. Rumor has it that even some big-game guides usually strongly supportive of state wildlife policies may speak out against this latest control method. One retired state biologist seemed to sum up everyone's sentiments when he declared, "Enough's enough." The decision by several biologists to enter the fray is especially notable, given their usual reticence to get pulled into wildlife politics. Though their criticisms of bear snaring are unlikely to change the minds and actions of the current BOG or Fish and Game's upper management, they may spur larger public opposition (or at least more discussion) and media coverage of the issues.
Among those leading the scientific opposition to bear snaring is John Schoen, a former Fish and Game bear researcher and a wildlife scientist widely respected by his peers. In collaboration with other biologists, Schoen has written a statement highly critical of bear snaring as practiced by the state. It reads:
Bears are usually snared by hanging a bucket of bait in a tree. When a bear reaches into the bucket for the bait, its front leg is caught (trapped) by a cable attached to the tree. The only way the bear can be released by the hunter/trapper is by shooting it. If a female with first year cubs is snared and killed, the cubs will most likely starve or be killed by another bear. Unlike hunting, where a hunter can carefully select for large, male bears, snaring is indiscriminate. Snares catch black bears and brown bears, female bears with cubs, and sometimes even older cubs. With unlimited numbers of snares and long open seasons, snaring may kill more bears than is sustainable. Snaring and killing of bears regardless of age, species, and gender is incompatible with the scientific principles and the ethics of modern wildlife management, including the North American Model for Wildlife Conservation.
A large number of biologists who have studied or managed wildlife in Alaska have already signed the statement. More are expected.Some bear biologists critical of the state have expanded on their concerns in email exchanges with me. One is Sterling Miller. A longtime Fish and Game bear researcher, Miller now lives in Montana but he continues to closely track Alaska's wildlife management practices. In 2011 he was the lead author of a commentary that appeared in The Journal of Wildlife Management, titled "Trends in Intensive Management of Alaska's Grizzly Bears, 1980-2010."
"The problem," Miller explains, "is that they [state wildlife managers] have no data anywhere in Alaska that efforts to reduce brown bears have resulted in more moose available to hunters. . . . Before going into a brown bear reduction experiment, they need to have baseline data on brown bear abundance [which they don't] and the ability to track trends in brown bear numbers."
In short, the state's snaring experiment is based on guesswork-and politics-rather than good science. In plain, everyday language: more dead bears does not necessarily mean more moose for people to kill.
Schoen agrees that "basically there's no conclusive data" that shows or even suggests the need for such a snaring program and says the biggest concern, from a scientific perspective, is "the indiscriminate take of bears." He then adds, "Currently it seems like the ADF&G leadership and BOG are operating largely by the seat of their pants with anecdotal information and the strongly-held belief that fewer grizzly bears will result in more moose and caribou for hunters. I agree with Sterling that the new leadership at ADF&G is straying from science. Please keep in mind, however, that there are still very credible scientists within ADF&G who are also concerned about the lack of science in management decisions."
I will add that such biologists are under orders to not express their opinions.For the sake of argument, let's say that fewer bears would guarantee more moose for hunters. And let's accept Spraker's premise that "From a scientific and methodology lens, [snaring] appears to be a very effective method of reducing bear numbers." Would that make snaring an appropriate management tool?
I would still say "No way," for purely ethical reasons. The available evidence makes it clear that at least some trapped bears will experience prolonged trauma when caught in a bucket snare, in some cases worsened by the presence of offspring. Simply put, the snaring of bears is brutal and inhumane. I'm hardly alone in that belief. Besides the many wildlife conservationists who oppose snaring on moral grounds, many wildlife scientists find the practice to be ethically repugnant, as demonstrated by their statement against bear snaring. Even some biologists use "cruel" to describe the practice. While certain types of trap sets kill animals quickly, bear snares keep their normally wide-ranging captives handcuffed in place in a way that can only be traumatic, and can do so for periods of nearly 48 hours even when regulations are followed (the state only requires that permittees check their snares daily. An early morning check could be followed by a late-night one the following day.)
David Klein, another former state biologist, is currently professor emeritus at the University of Alaska Fairbanks Institute of Arctic Biology and among the most acclaimed of Alaska's wildlife scientists. In email correspondence with me he acknowledged being one of the first to sign the bear-snaring statement and also expressed "the need to emphasize to the BOG that we speak not just as old and retired ADF&G biologists who understand bear biology, but also as a majority of Alaskans who value bears as part of Alaska's wild heritage and who also have pride in the concept of hunting ethics that has guided wildlife management and associated sport and trophy hunting in Alaska's past. . . . Bears are generally held in high regard by most Alaskans who expect ethical behavior of both hunters and nonhunters toward bears."
Larry Aumiller gets the last word. Before retiring from Fish and Game, Aumiller managed the McNeil River State Game Sanctuary for three decades; over that time he got to know brown bears as well as anyone. He also briefly participated in bear research that involved ground snaring: "I helped snare bears in the 1970s [for radio-tracking] and it produced images that I still find in my dreams. When snared, brown bears go absolutely crazy with fear and tear up everything within reach."
Ted Spraker has claimed that BOG members and state wildlife managers "strive to adopt harvest or removal techniques that are acceptable or at least understandable to the majority of the public." I would argue that most Alaskans, until now, have had no idea what bear snaring entails. Furthermore, the great majority of Alaskans would find it a highly unacceptable, barbaric practice if they truly understood what bears endure when snared. As Aumiller comments, "I would bet if there was a video available on YouTube showing the efforts of a terrified snared bear trying to get away, snaring would not even be proposed."
Not a chance. ◆
Bears, like humans, have different personalities. Once caught, some might struggle a bit then give up, behave in what a person might interpret as a submissive, even calm way. But this female grizzly has a more aggressive, excitable nature. Besides that, she happens to be a mom. Two cubs have followed her to the bait. Now, sensing their mother's agitation, they too become upset. One begins to bawl. This only deepens the adult bear's determination to free herself. With her free paw she swats and tears at the bucket and tree and she pulls even harder against the snare, which begins to cut through the animal's thick fur and into her flesh. Now the embodiment of rage, the adult grizzly roars and snaps her jaws, thrashes about. The cubs wail louder.
Eventually exhausted by her struggles, the grizzly mom slumps against the tree, while the whimpering cubs huddle together nearby. More time passes and the trapped grizzly resumes her fight for freedom. The cubs again cry in panic.It goes like this for hours. A day might pass before the trapper-called a "snare permittee" by state wildlife officials-comes to check the snare, even longer if he's delayed for some reason. When he does show up, the grizzly mom goes berserk. Depending on their age and personalities, the cubs might charge the person, run off, or huddle in fear. These two retreat into nearby bushes.
The trapper could legally shoot the cubs, now in their second year, but he chooses to ignore the small, frightened bears and heads for their mom. He takes aim, fires his gun, and kills her with a single shot, then begins the process of removing the grizzly from the snare and collecting her hide and skull, which he must bring back to state authorities.
The cubs remain in hiding. Without their mother, it's more likely they will starve than survive the summer.
Even five years ago, the idea was unimaginable: trap and shoot Alaska's bears so that human hunters might kill more moose.
Okay, that's not entirely true. Always trying to come up with new ways to rid Alaska's landscape of competitors for moose and caribou meat, at least a few predator-control proponents, Ted Spraker among them, were looking toward Maine, then the only state to allow the snaring of bears. A retired Department of Fish and Game biologist who worked nearly three decades for the state, Spraker has been among the most influential members of the Alaska Board of Game since joining it in 2003. Employing a calm, thoughtful style, he's successfully pushed for increasing kills of wolves and bears, primarily to benefit sport hunters.
Though I can't recall the exact year, I do remember Spraker's casual mention of bear snaring at a BOG meeting in the early 2000s and his suggestion that it might be a management "tool" worth considering some day. I also remember being both flabbergasted and amused, and thinking, Can he be serious? That will never happen here.
Unlike wolves, the target of state-run predator-control programs for decades, Alaska's bears-especially brown and grizzly bears-had been treated with considerable respect since statehood. They are charismatic critters, big-game trophy animals, iconic species that symbolize wilderness and attract both camera-toting tourists and rifle-carrying hunters to Alaska. The importance of bears to Alaska's hunting, guiding and tourism communities seemed to assure that they would never be put in the state's predator-control crosshairs.
Wow, was I wrong. In 2007, for the first time in state history, the BOG approved a black-bear control program, to be done in Game Management Unit 16, across Cook Inlet from Anchorage. As I reported in the Press ("Gunning for black bears," May 2008), the goal was to "remove" more than half of the 2,000 black bears estimated to inhabit that area. To do so, the state encouraged hunters to establish bait stations throughout the targeted area. And to make things simple, those hunters-deemed "agents of the state"-were encouraged to kill any and all black bears they lured into those stations, including adult females with cubs and even the cubs themselves.
I can't emphasize enough what a staggering turnabout this was. Alaska's wildlife managers and hunting community have traditionally paid special deference to female bears with cubs; for a hunter to kill one was not only illegal but the worst kind of behavior, shameful and abhorrent. When the BOG discussed the proposed bear-control program in March 2007, the idea that state wildlife managers would allow, even encourage, hunters to kill moms with cubs and their offspring seemed so wrong-headed and appalling, that some of the board's softer-hearted members expressed uneasiness. But in the end, the board mustered up the will to approve the killing of all black bears, no matter their sex or age. If some cubs happened to run off and die a slow death, well that was sure unfortunate, but what could you do? Nature, as we all know, can be cruel. This wouldn't be much different.
The BOG also decided hunters wouldn't have to salvage the bear meat, only hides and skulls. And they could obtain permits to sell those skulls, plus tanned or untanned hides with claws attached, to earn some cash for their efforts. This too was an extraordinary measure, at odds with usual bans on the sale of bear parts.
Among those stunned by the new bear-kill effort were several Alaskans who'd once served on the board, including former chairman Doug Pope: "When I was on the board [in the early 1990s], bears weren't even on the radar screen. Any attempt to include them [in predator-control efforts] was like attacking the Holy Grail. The way the program has been expanded to include bears is what shocks me."
More shocks quickly followed. In 2009, at the urging of Corey Rossi (then Fish and Game's assistant commissioner for abundance management and now director of the state's Division of Wildlife Conservation) and other upper-level wildlife administrators, the BOG voted to authorize a black-bear snaring program in Unit 16. Begun in spring 2010, that snaring effort has in two years "removed" 118 black bears.
In his 2009 testimony, Rossi assured the board that snaring would not target brown bears (though individuals accidentally caught might have to be killed) and the effort would be closely supervised. But by 2011, the state's new wildlife director had changed his mind. The department proposed a new experiment, one that would target brown bears as well as black in part of Unit 16B; once again any bear would be fair game, except for females with cubs born that year and the first-year cubs themselves (older cubs and their moms can be legally trapped). In its first season, participants-the "snare permittees"-killed 21 brown bears. According to Fish and Game, none were cubs or lactating females.
Until now, the state's unprecedented bear-snaring program hasn't gotten much attention. Partly that's because the media has largely ignored it; and so far, it's been conducted on a small scale, with minimal publicity. That, of course, is how state wildlife officials want it. When asked about the snaring, they downplay it as a limited "experiment," something they're doing reluctantly, as a last resort, to save moose calves from marauding bears.
Spraker, for instance, says, "I have never been a huge fan of the technique overall, simply because it is a labor-intensive operation," a curious stance given his push for the method. "I support limited bear snaring programs to test whether we can achieve the recommended removal level to benefit moose or caribou survival, but not as a general harvest technique.
"
That last statement, too, seems strange, since Spraker and his BOG allies have reclassified black bears so that now they're now both big-game animals and furbearers, and it seems only a matter of time before trappers will be allowed to snare and shoot them under general regulations in some parts of Alaska.
Devoted wildlife conservationists have tried to stir public opposition to the snaring, with little success up until now. One group, the Alaska Wildlife Alliance, has issued "action alerts," placed ads in newspapers, and sent around a petition that asks members of the public to express their opposition to the snaring, arguing that it is cruel and unethical, and based on bad science. Or no science at all. Thousands of people have signed the petition, but most are non-residents and, as we all know, Outsiders are routinely ignored when their opinions don't mimic the state's leadership.
The BOG and Department of Fish and Game dismiss such campaigns as the actions of the usual discontented suspects: wolf- and bear-hugging "animal-rights extremists" who will oppose any and all attempts to "control" Alaska's predators. Of course anyone who protests and criticizes state wildlife policies too strenuously or for any length of time inevitably earns the title of extremist. Some predator-control advocates have tossed the label my way, because of commentaries I've written and testimony I've given at BOG meetings.
The tide, however, may be turning. Opposition to this latest snaring "experiment" and, more generally, the state's war on wolves and bears-and what else can you call it, given the effort to "remove" large numbers of the animals from Alaska's wildlands in order to benefit human hunters-seems to be growing beyond the core group of wildlife-loving dissidents. Galvanized by their shared disgust with bear snaring, a wide range of Alaskans are gearing up to fight the state's increasingly extreme efforts to kill bears (and wolves), in a battle that seems certain to go public at this month's BOG meeting which begins Friday at the Anchorage Hilton Hotel.
In recent weeks I've talked and exchanged emails with numerous wildlife scientists, former BOG members, representatives of mainstream environmental groups, and some of Alaska's elder statesmen (and women), all of them opposed to bear snaring and many prepared to tell the BOG so. Rumor has it that even some big-game guides usually strongly supportive of state wildlife policies may speak out against this latest control method. One retired state biologist seemed to sum up everyone's sentiments when he declared, "Enough's enough." The decision by several biologists to enter the fray is especially notable, given their usual reticence to get pulled into wildlife politics. Though their criticisms of bear snaring are unlikely to change the minds and actions of the current BOG or Fish and Game's upper management, they may spur larger public opposition (or at least more discussion) and media coverage of the issues.
Among those leading the scientific opposition to bear snaring is John Schoen, a former Fish and Game bear researcher and a wildlife scientist widely respected by his peers. In collaboration with other biologists, Schoen has written a statement highly critical of bear snaring as practiced by the state. It reads:
Bears are usually snared by hanging a bucket of bait in a tree. When a bear reaches into the bucket for the bait, its front leg is caught (trapped) by a cable attached to the tree. The only way the bear can be released by the hunter/trapper is by shooting it. If a female with first year cubs is snared and killed, the cubs will most likely starve or be killed by another bear. Unlike hunting, where a hunter can carefully select for large, male bears, snaring is indiscriminate. Snares catch black bears and brown bears, female bears with cubs, and sometimes even older cubs. With unlimited numbers of snares and long open seasons, snaring may kill more bears than is sustainable. Snaring and killing of bears regardless of age, species, and gender is incompatible with the scientific principles and the ethics of modern wildlife management, including the North American Model for Wildlife Conservation.
A large number of biologists who have studied or managed wildlife in Alaska have already signed the statement. More are expected.Some bear biologists critical of the state have expanded on their concerns in email exchanges with me. One is Sterling Miller. A longtime Fish and Game bear researcher, Miller now lives in Montana but he continues to closely track Alaska's wildlife management practices. In 2011 he was the lead author of a commentary that appeared in The Journal of Wildlife Management, titled "Trends in Intensive Management of Alaska's Grizzly Bears, 1980-2010."
"The problem," Miller explains, "is that they [state wildlife managers] have no data anywhere in Alaska that efforts to reduce brown bears have resulted in more moose available to hunters. . . . Before going into a brown bear reduction experiment, they need to have baseline data on brown bear abundance [which they don't] and the ability to track trends in brown bear numbers."
In short, the state's snaring experiment is based on guesswork-and politics-rather than good science. In plain, everyday language: more dead bears does not necessarily mean more moose for people to kill.
Schoen agrees that "basically there's no conclusive data" that shows or even suggests the need for such a snaring program and says the biggest concern, from a scientific perspective, is "the indiscriminate take of bears." He then adds, "Currently it seems like the ADF&G leadership and BOG are operating largely by the seat of their pants with anecdotal information and the strongly-held belief that fewer grizzly bears will result in more moose and caribou for hunters. I agree with Sterling that the new leadership at ADF&G is straying from science. Please keep in mind, however, that there are still very credible scientists within ADF&G who are also concerned about the lack of science in management decisions."
I will add that such biologists are under orders to not express their opinions.For the sake of argument, let's say that fewer bears would guarantee more moose for hunters. And let's accept Spraker's premise that "From a scientific and methodology lens, [snaring] appears to be a very effective method of reducing bear numbers." Would that make snaring an appropriate management tool?
I would still say "No way," for purely ethical reasons. The available evidence makes it clear that at least some trapped bears will experience prolonged trauma when caught in a bucket snare, in some cases worsened by the presence of offspring. Simply put, the snaring of bears is brutal and inhumane. I'm hardly alone in that belief. Besides the many wildlife conservationists who oppose snaring on moral grounds, many wildlife scientists find the practice to be ethically repugnant, as demonstrated by their statement against bear snaring. Even some biologists use "cruel" to describe the practice. While certain types of trap sets kill animals quickly, bear snares keep their normally wide-ranging captives handcuffed in place in a way that can only be traumatic, and can do so for periods of nearly 48 hours even when regulations are followed (the state only requires that permittees check their snares daily. An early morning check could be followed by a late-night one the following day.)
David Klein, another former state biologist, is currently professor emeritus at the University of Alaska Fairbanks Institute of Arctic Biology and among the most acclaimed of Alaska's wildlife scientists. In email correspondence with me he acknowledged being one of the first to sign the bear-snaring statement and also expressed "the need to emphasize to the BOG that we speak not just as old and retired ADF&G biologists who understand bear biology, but also as a majority of Alaskans who value bears as part of Alaska's wild heritage and who also have pride in the concept of hunting ethics that has guided wildlife management and associated sport and trophy hunting in Alaska's past. . . . Bears are generally held in high regard by most Alaskans who expect ethical behavior of both hunters and nonhunters toward bears."
Larry Aumiller gets the last word. Before retiring from Fish and Game, Aumiller managed the McNeil River State Game Sanctuary for three decades; over that time he got to know brown bears as well as anyone. He also briefly participated in bear research that involved ground snaring: "I helped snare bears in the 1970s [for radio-tracking] and it produced images that I still find in my dreams. When snared, brown bears go absolutely crazy with fear and tear up everything within reach."
Ted Spraker has claimed that BOG members and state wildlife managers "strive to adopt harvest or removal techniques that are acceptable or at least understandable to the majority of the public." I would argue that most Alaskans, until now, have had no idea what bear snaring entails. Furthermore, the great majority of Alaskans would find it a highly unacceptable, barbaric practice if they truly understood what bears endure when snared. As Aumiller comments, "I would bet if there was a video available on YouTube showing the efforts of a terrified snared bear trying to get away, snaring would not even be proposed."
Not a chance. ◆
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment