Akpatok Island, Ungava Bay, Nunavut, Canada
As soon as we dropped anchor off Akpatok Island, we spotted several polar bears on the green scree slopes beneath cliffs lined with thick-billed murres. The remote island, in the northwestern part of Ungava Bay is claimed to be home to some twenty percent of Canada’s thick-billed murres, and the bears we could see had been capitalizing on the abundance of birds. To be more precise, they had been feeding on chicks that had tumbled from the rock ledges above the beach, down onto the scree slopes – ungainly attempts at first flight. Earlier in the year, the bears had no doubt benefitted from occasional eggs falling from the cliffs, as well. From the look of some of the bears, not only had this out-of-season bonanza been adequate to hold their attention in a time when they are generally not feeding, it had made them fat!
Not wishing to disturb the bears, we took the Zodiacs downwind of them and then proceeded slowly upwind towards them, and about 150 yards offshore. We could see eight bears as we approached, and knew that there was at least one other round the corner, beyond the bird cliffs. Some had been digging into the scree slopes, as they do above permafrost, making a cool place to lie down on the warm summer days. One large male bear, with only eighteen inches or so clearance between his belly and the ground, was so covered in dirt from his excavations that he looked more like a grizzly bear than a polar bear.
Following the shore along the base of the 700-foot cliffs, we saw more bears, mostly adult males, hemmed onto the beach, amongst rock piles and moving along the top of the scree slopes, 200 feet above the water. Two male bears, pressed by a larger male, moved quickly down the beach, alternating between a fast walk and a trot. After about two kilometers, the first one encountered a female, who hurried her yearling cubs out of his way. After two hundred yards, she turned to confront her pursuer, lunging at him briefly until apparent recognition that he was not pursuing her but trying to pass her. As she continued along the slope with her cubs, the second panicked male came up behind her, effectively pushing her towards a further male who was standing on the scree path 50 yards ahead. In this situation, which was potentially very dangerous to her cubs, she turned and led them down the loose slope to the beach. Our observations at Akpatok provided an excellent and rare insight into interactive polar bear behaviour.
In the afternoon, we landed on a beach where outflow from the Island’s watershed had cut two deep ravines through the limestone, down to the sea. Bears were seen at some distance, but with outlying sentries and large groups led by armed naturalists, guests were able to hike on the tundra and up one of the ravines to a waterfall at its head. As well as the interesting geology and an array of plants to talk about, we found polar bear tracks in the mud, and scat in various places on the tundra. In arriving at the landing site, our Inuk naturalist and guide, Stevie Aulaqiaq had quickly built an Inukshuk on an overlook above the beach. When the first guests climbed up to where he was, he told them that it would let the people know that we had been there.
Our stop at Akpatok Island was very much about the bears, and it provided a greater opportunity in terms of numbers and behaviour observation than most of us expected or hoped. Later, after the last Zodiac had been lifted back onto the ship, and the ship’s wake extended between us and Akpatok’s massive, buttressed shores, I thought of Admiralty Island, in Alaska, and its main community, Angoon, whose name translates into English from the Tlinglit as; ‘The Fortress of the Bears’, and I considered that this might also have been an appropriate name for Akpatok.
As soon as we dropped anchor off Akpatok Island, we spotted several polar bears on the green scree slopes beneath cliffs lined with thick-billed murres. The remote island, in the northwestern part of Ungava Bay is claimed to be home to some twenty percent of Canada’s thick-billed murres, and the bears we could see had been capitalizing on the abundance of birds. To be more precise, they had been feeding on chicks that had tumbled from the rock ledges above the beach, down onto the scree slopes – ungainly attempts at first flight. Earlier in the year, the bears had no doubt benefitted from occasional eggs falling from the cliffs, as well. From the look of some of the bears, not only had this out-of-season bonanza been adequate to hold their attention in a time when they are generally not feeding, it had made them fat!
Not wishing to disturb the bears, we took the Zodiacs downwind of them and then proceeded slowly upwind towards them, and about 150 yards offshore. We could see eight bears as we approached, and knew that there was at least one other round the corner, beyond the bird cliffs. Some had been digging into the scree slopes, as they do above permafrost, making a cool place to lie down on the warm summer days. One large male bear, with only eighteen inches or so clearance between his belly and the ground, was so covered in dirt from his excavations that he looked more like a grizzly bear than a polar bear.
Following the shore along the base of the 700-foot cliffs, we saw more bears, mostly adult males, hemmed onto the beach, amongst rock piles and moving along the top of the scree slopes, 200 feet above the water. Two male bears, pressed by a larger male, moved quickly down the beach, alternating between a fast walk and a trot. After about two kilometers, the first one encountered a female, who hurried her yearling cubs out of his way. After two hundred yards, she turned to confront her pursuer, lunging at him briefly until apparent recognition that he was not pursuing her but trying to pass her. As she continued along the slope with her cubs, the second panicked male came up behind her, effectively pushing her towards a further male who was standing on the scree path 50 yards ahead. In this situation, which was potentially very dangerous to her cubs, she turned and led them down the loose slope to the beach. Our observations at Akpatok provided an excellent and rare insight into interactive polar bear behaviour.
In the afternoon, we landed on a beach where outflow from the Island’s watershed had cut two deep ravines through the limestone, down to the sea. Bears were seen at some distance, but with outlying sentries and large groups led by armed naturalists, guests were able to hike on the tundra and up one of the ravines to a waterfall at its head. As well as the interesting geology and an array of plants to talk about, we found polar bear tracks in the mud, and scat in various places on the tundra. In arriving at the landing site, our Inuk naturalist and guide, Stevie Aulaqiaq had quickly built an Inukshuk on an overlook above the beach. When the first guests climbed up to where he was, he told them that it would let the people know that we had been there.
Our stop at Akpatok Island was very much about the bears, and it provided a greater opportunity in terms of numbers and behaviour observation than most of us expected or hoped. Later, after the last Zodiac had been lifted back onto the ship, and the ship’s wake extended between us and Akpatok’s massive, buttressed shores, I thought of Admiralty Island, in Alaska, and its main community, Angoon, whose name translates into English from the Tlinglit as; ‘The Fortress of the Bears’, and I considered that this might also have been an appropriate name for Akpatok.
