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by Mel ynda Coble Har r i son
H u d s o n
B Ay
B e ar s
azing out the window of the Tundra Buggy Lodge, I watch
a young male polar bear roll around in a kelp bed. It’s
raining and windy – not the kind of weather polar bears
like. He’s been hunkered down in the kelp and willows all day, but now
he stretches his already long neck, turns around three times and lies back
down. Then, just like a dog, he rolls on his back, huge furry feet in the air,
stands up and shakes the rain off his fur.
I stick the long lens of my camera out the window and frame the
bear’s face in my shot. I already have more photos of this bear than I’ll
ever use for anything, but I keep snapping away. I can’t believe that I
am within 100 yards of a polar bear. I can’t believe that I am staying
in a lodge in the middle of the Canadian tundra far from any other
human structure.
It’s not an easy place to get to, this subarctic wilderness. A couple
22
winter
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spr ing
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North
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