A story about a Khutzeymateen grizzly cub's first year
A grizzly cub sticks very close to mother bear during its first year. An intensive educational program prepares the young bear for survival in its diminishing habitat. Photo credit: Larry Aumiller photo.
The monarch of Khutzeymateen's wilderness comes into the world as a one pound furless and almost helpless cub. The grizzly mother gives birth in the high country, in a snug and cozy den in late January or early February.
Here the newborn baby bear, weighing far less than an average human child, crawls over its mother's thick fur to find a teat and begin sucking rich warm milk. It's hard to imagine that such a tiny being will eventually grow into a huge animal weighing 500 kg or more.
Fierce storms rage outside while, for his first few months, the cub alternates between nursing and sleeping on his big mother's warm body. By the time spring comes to the mountain domain, the cub has gained six times its body weight and now is about as heavy as a human baby at birth. A bear cub however, is far more self-sufficient than a child. It has a set of sharp teeth, a protective coat of fur and sharp claws.
Despite resembling our culture's favourite childhood image, a cute and cuddly teddy, this baby bear is a self contained dynamo ready to begin its two to three years of intensive lessons from mother on how to survive in the Khutzeymateen, their ancestral home. Some time in May, when the weather is right, mother bear leads her cub out of the dark den. The first daylight hurts his eyes. For the next week or two, the mother hangs around the den with her cub, returning to the warm underground nest during spring storms. If conditions are right, the mother may teach her cub to playfully sit on his haunches and toboggan down a snow hill.
The mother, who kill to defend her young, and who nurtures with tenderness but doesn't hesitate to cuff her cub to keep it in line, begins to teach basic survival skills and to impart her knowledge of their habitat. Her cub, like all bear cubs, is filled with endless energy and an insatiable appetite as well as curiosity, playfulness and a zest for life.
As the weather warms, the mother and cub move down slope to find an open area where a winter avalanche has scoured the snow away, allowing succulent green plants to emerge earlier than in other areas. Here they feed for about a week, the cub learning to nibble off the shoots of cow parsnip and grasses. Some days are warm, but at night the cub snuggles up to its mother's fury body under the shelter of a big spruce tree.
When the snow melts in the valley below, the mother bear leads her offspring down to the river. Here in the remove Khutzetmateen watershed the river flows unhindered through primeval forests of giant sitka spruce and western hemlock. This is a new part of the cub's world. The river has a different smell. Mother bear stops to dig the thick white skunk cabbage roots and introduces her cub to another food staple.
As they move down the valley, they come to a well-worn bear trail that parallels the river. In the mud are fresh track of other bears. The cub recognizes the scents of these strangers, which differ from the familiar smell of his mother.
Three cubs on a fishing expedition waiting for mom's return. Female grizzlies have between one and four cubs in January or Febryary, depending on food supply in the habitat. Photo credit: Larry Aumiller
One day he wanders off the trail lured by the scent of another bear only to have his mother suddenly run and come at him in a fury. She cuffs him to the base of a spruce, snapping her jaws, signaling to climb the tree quickly. After he is safely up she charges off into the undergrowth huffing and growling to chase off a small male grizzly, which has been luring nearby. The mother's instinctual protectiveness stems from the fact that other bears prey on cubs.
After danger passes, the cub cautiously inches his way down the tree to join his mother. She continues to lead him down the bear trail stopping next at a rubbing tree, scarred by generations of bear use. While the cub rolls and scuffs around, mother bear stand on her hind legs and rubs her back against the tree, adding her presence.
In an open area of hillside she leads her cub off the trail to a large patch of wild cranberries that she remembers from past years. She eats the semi-dried fruits, which have remained on the tall shrubs over the winter. As she crashes among the bushes, her cub scrambles after her, licking up the red berries that fall on the ground. He learns to enjoy another local bear food.
Later in the day they come to an ice-cold river blocking their path. It is the fast white waters of the Kateen racing over a gravel flood plain to join the quieter waters of the Khytzeymateen. The cub resists when mother bear tries to lead him into a deep pool, but her quick shove pushes him into the glacially fed waters. Instinctively, he swims to her and hitches a ride across on her wide back.
Continuing to follow the bear path down river, they stop to spend the night in a forest of giant sitka spruce trees, the largest more than three meters in diameter and more than 50 bear generations old. In the morning the mother bear digs up more skunk cabbage roots which she shares with her hungry cub.
Later in the morning, at a logjam in the river, she roots among the debris of old logs, bark, rotting branches, sand and gravel. Her cub smells something new and rank-rotting fish. From underneath some debris she hauls out the carcass of a 20-kg chinook salmon that has laid buried all winter. It floated down the river from the fall spawning ground and became lodged among the logs. The late fall flood covered it and prevented its full decomposition before freeze-up. The bears feasted on her find.
The next day, the two continue on the ancient trail and arrive at a large open meadow where, besides the scent of other bears, a strange new smell greets the cub - it is the ocean's dank salty smell. Here, each day, the cub learns something new. For safety, he keeps close to his mother as she constantly checks for other bears. In one corner of a meadow, he learns to feed on grasses, sedges and other succulent shoots, which sprout all over the estuary at this time of year. Flocks of Canada geese honk overhead, while trumpeter swans rest in the nearby shallows. During their few weeks stay on the Khutzeymateen estuary, mother and cub sleep on a nearby woody bluff being careful not to spend the night too near any other bears.
Soon it is time to go back up river, where they continue to feed on skunk cabbage roots and other foods coming into season. Over the summer the cub learns the location of his mother's favorite feeding haunts. Finally early August arrives and mother and cub, along with numerous other grizzlies, head to the lower river to feast on salmon. All the bears fatten on the fish, taken from the tens of thousands returning to the Khutzetmateen to spawn. Salmon flesh is supplemented by many kinds of berries and roots, a diversity of foods that makes their diet omnivorous.
In the late fall, the mother leads her cub, now weighing about 35 kilos, back up the valley to her den in the high country. It is time for the two to rest in the cozy underground hibernation chamber mother bear has been using for many years. They have lived out one year in a tradition of feeding and travel that has continued for nearly 8,000 years - ever since the ice sheet retreated and the forest, salmon and grizzly bears returned to this place.
