Those lucky enough to find themselves in the northern hemisphere can look up at the starry sky on a clear night and glimpse two bear-shaped constellations. The Big Dipper, also known as the Plough, is, for those who choose to believe in Greek mythology, the nymph Callisto, transformed into a bear by Hera and placed in the sky by Zeus. The Little Dipper, it is said, is Arcas, son of Callisto, also placed in the firmament by his father, Zeus. Bears and humans have shared shared imaginaries, legends, and myths in which we coexist. The matagi, traditional Japanese hunters, held a deep respect for bears, considering them a gift from the mountains and the spiritual ancestor of their group.
In Siberian folklore, the bear often personifies man, and the cult includes rituals aimed at pleasing the animal, and in the Iberian Peninsula, the brown bear has been a protagonist as a figure of religious and totemic veneration in Mesolithic and Neolithic cultures until becoming a symbol of strength and trophy in the Middle Ages. The idolatry of the bear seems to be a constant in the history of those humans who have had the fortune -although for some, misfortune- of sharing territory with this animal.
Perhaps because it is one of the largest mammals with the widest geographical distribution in the world: in the cloud forests of Ecuador, where the spectacled bear lives; in India, where the sloth bear is native; in Alaska, where the Kodiak bear, a subspecies of the brown bear, roams freely hunting salmon; or in the north of our peninsula. Bears inhabit four of the six continents and, in all their majesty, they also face too many threats that jeopardize their future as one of the largest and most splendid terrestrial carnivores on the planet.
Humans and bears have been sharing territory for millennia. Coexisting is another story. In Native American cultures, the bear appears as an animal of utmost importance representing strength, courage, and even kinship. Many of these cultures viewed the bear as direct family -brothers and sisters- and revered its spirit.
The most beloved and mistreated animal alike now has its own encyclopedia: Eight Bears (Errata naturae), a book written by environmental journalist Gloria Dickie detailing the characteristics and dangers that threaten each of the eight species of bears that inhabit the globe.
"Conservation is complex: how do you convince someone to want to save an animal that can kill them?"
"People are fascinated by bears because, on one hand, they are really cute and cuddly animals and, at the same time, we are obsessed with the fact that they can also kill us," says the author. Our fascination with bears goes far beyond and carries an immense and deep symbolic and imaginary weight. To begin with, we resemble them much more than we think. "We like bears because they remind us of ourselves", explains Dickie. "They are very curious animals. They use tools, can recognize themselves in the mirror, solve puzzles... they are incredibly intelligent. All of these are very human characteristics. Although, personally, what captivates me the most, I believe, is that they are very aware of what is happening to them. When they are on a bile farm, they are very aware of their surroundings, which is quite heartbreaking."
In her willingness to investigate and write about all bear species, the Canadian ventured into the territories where each species is present: starting with the cloud forests of Ecuador, where the spectacled bears -Paddington!- constantly struggle with mining and deforestation; moving on to India, where sloth bears -Baloo!- are losing habitat at disproportionate rates (a 2016 study already warned of a possible decline of over 30% in three decades); to the United States or Vietnam, where the Asian black bear is systematically tortured and condemned to a life behind bars to collect its bile, used for medicinal purposes. "What was most difficult for me was knowing that they are long-lived animals, and that is why they can spend 30 years locked in iron cages," says the journalist.
Eight Bears serves as a basic guide to understand where each species comes from and what risks each one faces, but it also raises an inevitable question: what are we talking about when we talk about conservation? Is it possible to talk about coexistence? The animal that has been part of our collective culture since the beginning of humanity seems to face an uncertain future today.
However, in India, around 40 to 50 serious bear attacks are recorded each year. A brown bear can destroy an iron pan with a single bite. How can we advocate for the protection of a wild animal that puts thousands of lives at risk daily? Dickie, aware of these nuances and contradictions, emphasizes the complexity of conservation: "Viewing these animals through a romantic prism is a luxury." And she continues: "It is uncomfortable to have these types of conversations with people who truly share territory and are forced to coexist with them. Because, how do you convince someone to want to save an animal that can kill them?". Reaching a point of agreement, of coexistence, sometimes becomes practically impossible.
"Some bears are ceasing to be wild, they are adapting to humans, but they are losing their essence in doing so"
This even happens with the most popular species, like the mythical grizzly or the American black bear, which roam not only along the shores of Yellowstone Lake, Hayden Valley, and increasingly in the neighborhoods of Alaska, Montana, Wyoming, Idaho, or Washington. In these cases, the question of coexistence takes on an even more complex tone that goes far beyond simply protecting or not protecting. "Grizzlies and American bears are adapting, but they are losing their wild state and essence in that adaptation. People don't want to see a bear eating from the trash on vacation, right? We want to see a bear with mountains behind, with the forest. We don't want to take pictures of a bear like a raccoon or a rat in a container," reflects the author. And she poses a question: to what extent can we tolerate an animal losing its wild state?
"The question I always ask people is: how many bears? How many bears are enough? How many bears could you coexist with? Because you could probably coexist with 100 brown bears, but in the case of Romania, they have 13,000 in a fairly small country. How do you coexist with 13,000 brown bears without overlaps, conflicts, and attacks?" Dickie maintains that the answer boils down to how we define the number of bears we are willing to have as neighbors. "And that varies from place to place. There are many places in Canada that have done a good job of defending coexistence. They have made their communities bear-proof. The bears are becoming wild again. They change their behaviors to return to the wild. They go back to the mountains and not to the towns. But, again, that requires that there be nature available for them to go to. And if we are getting rid of that...". While on Earth we debate how to coexist with bears -between fascination, fear, and the need to conserve them- in the sky, they remain symbols, shared stories, and cultural memory. In the sky, the nymph Callisto, transformed into a bear by Hera and elevated to the firmament by Zeus alongside her son Arcas, continues to draw the constellations of the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper. While on Earth we debate how to coexist with bears, these figures continue to remind us that our relationship with them is as ancient as it is ambivalent.