28 minute read
The phenomenon that is Alaska’s Fat
Bear “747” is the prince of plump after winning Katmai National Park and Preserve’s now annual Fat Bear Week contest. Via fan voting, the grizzly beat out 11 other big-boned bruins that make the park home. (NATIONAL PARK SERVICE)
Bear “32,” a ectionately known as “Chunk,” became a fan favorite throughout the competition. The bear reached the fi nal before succumbing to 747. (NATIONAL PARK SERVICE)
Fans fi lling out a tournament bracket and predicting all the games’ outcomes has become such a rite of passage that it’s a borderline obsession (17.2 million entries were submitted to ESPN’s contest in 2019). The format has spawned plenty of copycat bracket games, with fans voting on seemingly any subject you can think of. (As I write this, popular October-related contests making the Internet rounds include best Halloween candy. Expect some Thanksgiving side dish challenges this month!)
Katmai National Park and Preserve has found its own niche in recent years with the now 6-year-old Fat Bear Week bracket-style tournament, where resident plump bruins are voted on round by round until a phat, fat bear receives his or her coronation among the biggest and bulkiest of the den.
As the 2020 contest wrapped up in October, we caught up with Amber Kraft, interpretation and education program manager at Katmai Park and Preserve, located in the heart of Bristol Bay’s vast salmon runs that nourish the park’s hungry ursine fi shermen and -women.
“Fat bears exemplify the richness of Katmai National Park and Bristol Bay, Alaska, a wild region that is home to more brown bears than people, and the largest, healthiest runs of sockeye salmon left on the planet,” says Kraft, who shared some details about the contest, the park’s role with bear conservation and a few tidbits about this year’s chunky champion, No. 747.
Chris Cocoles Congratulations on another great and fun Fat Bear Week. Did you anticipate this promotion becoming as successful and popular as it’s been? Amber Kraft We are thrilled with the interest and popularity of Fat Bear Week! We are glad to be able to share Katmai National Park’s most famous residents with the world and have the opportunity to convey the importance of healthy ecosystems.
Social media played a pivotal role in the rise of #FatBearWeek. Katmai National Park and Preserve is remote, making it diffi cult for the average American to gain access. The role of social media in the Fat Bear Week campaign was to provide that access for those sitting at home. The use of the explore.org live cams paired with comparison photos of the bears being featured encouraged virtual visitors to participate. Social media extended the invitation to the fat bear party.
CC How did the Fat Bear Week contest start? AK Fat Bear Week has grown a lot since it was conceived as a single-day event, “Fat Bear Tuesday,” six years
ago, and grew into the weeklong event that we have today. This program was created as a way to engage the public in the phenomenon of brown bears in hyperphagia to prepare for winter, and it was a success. Hyperphagia is when a bear’s metabolism changes in the fall. The hormone that lets a bear feel full, leptin, stops working and the bears feel constantly hungry. That means they are either fishing or sleeping – resting
from all the hard work of fattening up to survive. It also gives us the opportunity to share the importance of access to clean water and healthy ecosystems unaffected by climate change or human influence, without which the fat bears we celebrated this year would be at risk.
CC Tell us a little something about this year’s champion, 747. AK Bear 747 was first classified and
The ubiquitous salmon that make the Bristol Bay region their spawning grounds are just as crucial to bears as the entire fishing industry, giving credence to ursine and human reluctance for the Pebble Mine project to proceed. (NATIONAL PARK SERVICE)
given his number in 2004. Since that time, he has grown to be maybe the largest and heaviest bear on the Brooks River. Although 747 has been one of the largest bears on the river, this is his first Fat Bear Week championship. This year he really packed on the pounds, looking like he was fat enough to hibernate in July and yet continuing to eat until his belly seemed to drag along the ground by late September.
What’s known as “hyperphagia” allows bruins to eat beyond their heart’s content. It not only helped 747 earn his championship fat bear pedigree, but the extra poundage is what bears live o during their long hibernation. “We are celebrating a feat of nature we are lucky to be able to witness,” says Amber of Katmai National Park and Preserve. “Brown bears get fat to survive.” (NATIONAL PARK SERVICE)
CC As March Madness has proven, we seem to love these bracket-style contests. Has this format worked out great to allow an interactive experience of fans voting for their favorite fat bear? AK Absolutely! This year we received 646,282 votes during the Fat Bear Week competition.
CC Bears are pretty fascinating animals as a species, but are there some that have some unique characteristics among your bear population at Katmai? AK We do notice unique characteristics of individual bears. That’s what allows us to identify individuals based on their physical and behavioral features. Due to the abundant bear and salmon population of this region, bears tolerate each other and people at close proximity. This tolerance of people has allowed us to make these observations of a bear’s unique physical and behavioral features.
CC Do you have a personal favorite bear
that you either have rooted for during Fat Bear Week, or just a bear that has endeared himself or herself to you? AK All of these animals are amazing. This summer I have been fascinated by watching bear 435, “Holly’s Cub.” Cubs start their lives so small and fragile, with many obstacles to face to make it to adulthood. While not the fattest bear, this cub did a great job packing on the pounds, even after an encounter with a porcupine and having a paw full of quills for months.
The iconic Brooks Falls area is one of Alaska’s premier bear viewing sites. “Brooks Camp is a truly special place,” Kraft says. (NATIONAL PARK SERVICE)
CC For those of us who haven’t had a chance to see it in person, what’s an experience like visiting Brooks Camp/ Falls to see these bears up close and personal? AK Brooks Camp is a truly special place. When visitors arrive, their first stop is the visitor center, where they receive a bear safety orientation. It is important for everyone to know how to react when you come across one of the bears that live here – as you almost certainly will – and we want that to be a positive experience for both the visitors and the bears. Brooks Camp attracts people from all over the world to view brown bears, enjoy world-class fishing and learn about the long human history of the area.
It is also a starting point for many backcountry adventures. Brooks Camp is located in the heart of Katmai National Park and Preserve and accessed only by boat or plane, so some advanced planning is necessary to visit. Those wishing to visit should check out our website for trip planning advice at nps.gov/katm.
CC The Katmai Conservancy also is heavily involved in Fat Bear Week and more importantly in preservation for bears and under wildlife. What kind of importance do they play in conjunction with what you’re doing at Katmai NP? AK The Katmai Conservancy is the official nonprofit fundraising partner of Katmai National Park and Preserve. The conservancy supports Katmai’s unique ecosystems, scenic character and associated natural and cultural resources by promoting greater public interest, appreciation and support through education, interpretation and research. Membership, donations or online purchases directly support Katmai’s research, education and visitor service priorities.
CC Do you hope that the popularity of Fat Bear Week – not to mention interactive experiences like the Brooks Falls bear cam – will help create more interest in bears from the public and that this contest will continue to raise awareness about bears? AK Yes! Brown bears in Katmai National Park and Preserve, and throughout the Bristol Bay region, use their skill and adaptations in an attempt to sate their profound hunger and meet the challenge of survival.
For these bears fatness means success and Fat Bear Week celebrates their success. There is no “fat-shaming” going on with these animals. Fat bears mean they are healthy bears and ready for the winter. During hibernation bears live off their accumulated fat. This is serious business. For example: If a pregnant female bear does not have enough fat, her cubs will likely not survive. Instead, we are celebrating a feat of nature we are lucky to be able to witness. Brown bears get fat to survive, and the health of Katmai’s ecosystem – particularly salmon – contributes to their survival. ASJ
Editor’s notes: See side-by-side comparisons of skinny bears becoming well-nourished bears at nps.gov/katm/ learn/nature/fat-bear-week-2020sliders.htm. And check out the Brooks Falls Katmai bear cam at explore .org/livecams/brown-bears/brooks-fallsbrown-bears-low. For more on the Katmai Conservancy, go to katmaiconservancy.org.
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ONE LAST GRIZZLY?
WITH THEIR USUAL SPOT UNAVAILABLE, BEAR HUNTERS FIND AN ALTERNATIVE DESTINATION
BY PAUL D. ATKINS
It was a long shot, especially through sleepy eyes and the notso-comfortable place where I was sitting. I just couldn’t get settled.
On top of that it was cold, too. The early-morning chill was abnormal for August; the previous year T-shirts and shorts had been the norm.
The big bear swimming on the other side of the river didn’t seem to mind, though, and he wasn’t really paying that much attention to me or my buddy Lew anyway. I eased the safety off, guessed the distance and squeezed.
THE RIVER WAS SHALLOW this year, more so than I’ve seen it in a long time – maybe ever. The further north on the mighty Noatak we went, the shallower it got. The current had pushed sandbars to new locations and flattened others out.
Those places where we once could go easily had disappeared. There were moments when I thought we would have to turn back, but then Lew would find a narrow channel and squeeze the boat through with barely enough clearance. It was like trying to put a puzzle together without all the pieces.
Paul Atkins isn’t sure how many future bear hunting trips he’ll make up the Noatak River, so he wanted to make the most of this opportunity. “Lew whispered, ‘Bears,’ so I made my way down to the bank with my rifle and shooting sticks in hand,” writes Atkins, who on this shot missed. (LEW PAGEL)
As we pushed on, I started having doubts that we would ever make it to our bear camp this year. Our original bear camp is located up on the Eli River, the one I’ve written so much about before. It’s a place where we’ve been going for several years, the place where dreams were made, and the place where big bears had visited us like the plague.
It actually saddened me that I might not get to see the Eli again, or at least get a chance to hunt its game-rich banks once more. SADLY, I WAS RIGHT; we didn’t make it to the Eli River. We came up short despite numerous tries. The channel had changed and the places we needed to travel were impassable. The water just wasn’t deep enough to make it.
I worried about Lew’s prop and the abuse it was taking. We would get going, only to have the gravel bottom grind us to halt. We actually got highcentered once and I had to get out and push us back into the deeper stuff. It was frustrating for the both of us.
We accepted our fate and drifted back down to a nice sandbar that was acceptable, though not ideal. It would have to do for this trip – as long as the water didn’t get any shallower and we could make it out on Sunday.
It wasn’t far from the promise of fish and bears at our old camp – maybe a couple of miles – but it still wasn’t the same. The river was wider here, and the splashes of big chum salmon were not as frequent as they would have been where we usually go in a narrow stretch of the Eli. Bear tracks, however, were everywhere here, which made us smile, giving us hope that it wouldn’t be long before we had a big bear hide stretched out on the gravel bank. AS DARKNESS APPROACHED, WE set camp by pulling out the old green tent and pounding the stakes into the hard gravel and sand. For a change rain wasn’t in the forecast, but like I’ve said you can never count on the meteorologist in these parts.
We gathered a good supply of wood, which seemed to be everywhere, and started a fire. Lew set up our kitchen and then we sat down for a delicious
One of Atkins’ favorite places in the world is bear camp. “I’ve grown to look forward to it more than anything I do here in the Arctic,” he says. “I think the biggest draw is the solitude of this area and the thought
of what if and when.” (LEW PAGEL) MRE and a few drinks. We both knew that we would have company very soon.
Having company means bears, not fellow hunters, and it wasn’t long before we could hear the telltale sign that our guests had arrived. The silhouette across the river was unmistakable, as was the splashing and foraging in the water for fish.
He looked big, but they all do when you first see them. The late hour and impending cloud cover didn’t help in the darker-than-normal conditions, so it was really hard to tell how big this grizzly was.
We could have taken a shot, but it would have been iffy at best. I also didn’t really feel like rummaging through the dark in search of death. So, we sat and watched the big guy work the bank in search of an easy meal.
It wasn’t long before two more bears came out a little further north. I looked at Lew and started to say something, but didn’t; we both knew it was going to be a long night. As the last of the driftwood burned to embers, we decided to head to the tent and crawl in for the night.
I carefully checked my pistol and also my rifle, making sure they were
Here’s the lone fish Atkins could coax out of the Noatak. He kept wondering “what if” he and his hunting partner had been able to get to their preferred camp spot on the too shallow Eli River, where they usually have amazing fish hauls. (LEW PAGEL) The fishing was lousy, but the guys’ new camp didn’t lack for bears. They were numerous and close; this one was taken within spitting distance of their firepit – note the tent in the background. (LEW PAGEL)
ready in case we were attacked. It was good to stretch out in the sleeping bag, plus the sleeping pad was nice, even though I hate both and can never sleep comfortably, no matter the circumstances.
I was just falling asleep when I heard Lew get up and tell me there were bears down by the boat. Sleep is overrated anyway, so I sat up and listened. It was that way all night. That will happen when there are bears in or near camp.
But somewhere towards morning I had had enough and said to heck with it and closed my eyes.
AT DUSK I HEARD Lew stirring again and the zipper of the tent ripped open. I lay there trying to decide if I needed to get up. I didn’t have to wait long to make up my mind. When Lew whispered, “Bears,” I got up, put my boots on and grabbed my rifle.
Sure enough, there were bears; through the dim light you could see them on the other side of the river. There were three in all, probably the same trio
from the night before. If so, then the big
LEW’S FAMILY BEAR HARVEST
Lew Pagel and I left the next morning after I got my bear, but we left camp as it was. Lew’s brother J.P. was coming the next day and Lew had planned to bring him up in hopes of getting another bear.
I knew it would be only a matter of time before they scored, and I was right. They brought down another bruin, but only after a close encounter behind the tent. Lew described it to me this way:
“Unlike the three days we were there, my brother and I arrived in wind and rain. The river was still shallow, probably even more so than when we went up. There were moments when I didn’t think we were even going to make it back to the tent, but we did, but only after dragging bottom several times.”
“We got there late in the evening, and sure enough that night we had bears close by, but none that we could clearly see. We caught fish the next day, snagging a few chums and even a few pike in one of the deeper sloughs. That evening we set up similarly to what we did on our second night, but instead of crossing the river we stayed on the camp side.”
“We didn’t have to wait long, as bears started to appear in the same places where we had seen them before. However, this time we had them coming in from behind the tent, which was actually a bit scary. My brother found the one he wanted and dropped him 30 yards from the fire pit. It was a close encounter, to say the least!”
“There were plenty of other bears to see, but my brother was ecstatic and happy that he finally got his grizzly. It was a great hunt.” –PA Lew Pagel (left) and his brother J.P. returned to the same camp and harvested a bear of their own. J.P. had flown up to Alaska from Wisconsin to give it a go and wasn’t disappointed. (LEW PAGEL) guy was indeed big and directly across from us, as he was before.
I was sleepy and cold but grabbed the shooting sticks and headed down to the shoreline to set up and watch. The rocks were hard on my backside and I had trouble settling the scope. I turned it up to 12-power and peered at the bear across from me. He was a shooter, but I had to decide how far out he was and if I could actually make a shot.
The bear worked the water, going right to left and diving down with only his head above the cold water. After several minutes he waded into shore and presented himself on the sandy bank. He was broadside but wouldn’t stop long enough for me to get the crosshairs fixed.
I ranged him at 250 yards, a slam dunk for the .300 Short Mag. I was holding, especially on the sticks. He then turned his butt to us and went further inland to stand atop a gravel bar. I didn’t range him again, but finally he turned and presented me the shot. I found the brown hide and squeezed the trigger. The echo boomed across the tundra, but the bear just stood there. I’d missed, so I chambered a second round and gave him another. This time I missed clearly and he had had enough, disappearing over the sandy rise and out of our lives forever. We went over and checked, but no bear and no hit.
I was discouraged but not entirely surprised. I ranged it again, and like all distances in Alaska it had been deceiving. He may have been 250 yards on the bank, but when he moved in towards the willows, he was at 350. All I could guess was that I shot under him.
The other two bears, which were much smaller, weren’t even fazed. They kept feeding along the bank like nothing happened. Oh well: win some; lose some. I knew that night we would see more, but this time we would have a plan. Or so we thought.
WE WENT BACK TO bed and actually got some sleep. Late that morning we got up, built a fire and had coffee and our go-to breakfast. The Snickers-flavored coffee creamer went down smoothly and the blueberry Pop-Tarts never tasted better. It’s a ritual for Lew and
I: sugar and caffeine, as it always has been.
We were feeling better now, so we grabbed the rods and tried our best to catch a fish. It was slow going and after 1,000 casts Lew had had enough and headed back to camp.
I kept it up but wondered what it would have been like at our old camp. We’ve caught fish there seemingly on every throw, but not here. Finally, I had a hit and pulled one onto shore. It was the only fish we caught the entire weekend. It was disheartening.
As the day moved along, it was hot and I actually got sunburned by the desert-like conditions this far north. The bugs weren’t too bad, but that would probably change that evening for sure. Good thing we had brought the bug canopy, plus we were loaded down with bug dope.
We saw only a few boats, and those that did come by could only turn around and go back the way they came. I guess it was too shallow for them as well.
With evening approaching, we knew it was time to gear up and move across the river to the other side. And why not? That was where all the bears were and besides, there was a nice patch of willows that we could hide in. The
It was a new sandbar for the hunters to camp on, but an old snowmachine kept them company. (LEW PAGEL)
arrangement would allow us to see the wide sandbar in front of us and a long stretch of bank to the north. It was the perfect setup.
We drifted the boat over and climbed the high bank to make it to our hiding positions. Lew had his bow and I had my rifle. We settled into the dense brush for the long evening.
The mosquitoes, which had been relatively few in number earlier, were now out in force, searching for every inch of exposed skin. Luckily the army green Thermacell did its job and kept the bugs at bay – or at least from devouring us.
We sat for a couple of hours with not much happening. My butt began to hurt, so I got up to stretch and have a look aroundto make sure that our camp across the way hadn’t been disturbed. I glassed camp and all looked good, and then I continued to peer along the bank to the north. It was a high mud bank with dead trees and downfall falling off into the water. It was then that I saw a bear.
It’s crazy to think that one evening they’ll do one thing – like be on one side of the river – and then the next do
Even near dark, Atkins’ aim was true. “I was extremely happy with the result, especially with the long shot and a clean kill,” he says. “This was my 11th bear since I’ve lived here; each one has been a special experience.” (LEW PAGEL) You never know when something will happen. This bear actually was lurking behind the tent, but when he noticed the hunters, he
another. Our plan had failed, or had it? If we would have stayed in camp the bear would have walked right up to the fire and had dinner with us, but as it was, he was across from us, again.
I fetched Lew and told him about the bear. We both glassed him and could tell he was a shooter. This time I wasn’t sleepy.
I EASED DOWN THE bank to the edge of the water. The bear seemed to not care as I set up the Bog tripod and got the rifle into position. Lew was behind me with his rangefinder telling me the yardage; the bear was at 210 yards.
We watched as he cruised along the bank looking for fish. The bank was steep, which was ideal for the situation. If the first shot didn’t get him, I would probably have time for a second before he made his way up and into the willows. That was something I didn’t want to happen.
Not wanting to wait any longer, I steadied the scope and felt the recoil of the big rifle slam into my shoulder. The shot was true, and the big bear rolled into the water. He was down.
This was my 11th bear here in the Arctic and one of several on this stretch of the river. I was happy, even more so
that this was a clean shot and kill. burst out of the willows and headed for the river. (LEW PAGEL)
We made our way over and could tell that the big brown ball of fur was a good one. We tried to drag him out of the water, but he was so heavy we could not. Finally, Lew grabbed a rope and log and we “pushed” him up as far as we could. There at the edge of the water was where we had to take photos and, ultimately, skin and field-dress the bear.
It wasn’t ideal, especially when it began to rain, and all those damn bugs harassed us. It was an onslaught of bites until finally we had had enough. I headed to the tent, grabbed the bottle of Deep Woods repellent and soaked myself in that familiar smell. Meanwhile, Lew grabbed the bug tent and set it up over the bear, which made things much easier and better.
With only one headlamp between us, we were both nervous wrecks skinning that bear in pitch-black darkness. We were trying not to cut each other, and the fact that every sound outside that hut sounded like an approaching bear made it so scary.
It was also backbreaking work standing on the incline of the bank, but like so many times before, we got it done in record time.
After getting back to the tent long after midnight, a stiff drink had us both happy with the results.
WAS THIS MY LAST bear harvest in the Arctic? I don’t know. I hope not, but with changing times – whether it is the river itself or me leaving this part of Alaska for another, or maybe Alaska all together – I really don’t know.
What I do know is that spending time with my best friend in a familiar place where we’ve had so many adventures has been the best time of my life. It was another Arctic adventure for the books. ASJ
Editor’s note: Paul Atkins is an outdoor writer and author from Kotzebue, Alaska. He’s had hundreds of articles published on big game hunting in Alaska and throughout North America and Africa, plus surviving in the Arctic. His new book, Atkins’Alaska, will be on bookshelves this fall and available online. Paul is a regular contributor to Alaska Sporting Journal.
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