On Thin Ice
PABLO – With scores of trips to remote corners of the Arctic and sub-Arctic, it’s safe to say that Dr. Frank Tyro is the “polar” opposite of a snowbird.
The St. Ignatius native and Salish Kootenai College media and public television director has spent the past three decades paying visits to such northern climes as Baffin Island, the Northwest Territories, Iceland, and the Norwegian archipelago of Svalbard, halfway between Europe and the North Pole. However, Tyro’s passport owes most of its boreal flavor to his annual visits to Churchill, Manitoba, on the western edge of Hudson Bay and at the doorstep of Wapusk National Park, a world-renowned polar bear haven.
This November will mark Tyro’s 34th visit to the town known as “The Polar Bear Capital of the World” since he began his involvement as a volunteer with the Great Bear Foundation (GBF) in 1984. The Missoula-based organization is dedicated to bear conservation and promoting education about the world’s bear species. Each fall, a team from the GBF guides a group of adventurous guests to the ideal polar bear environment at the confluence of the Churchill River and Hudson Bay.
“The reason this area is important [bear habitat] is because this is the first place that ice forms,” says Tyro. “The bears need that ice to hunt.”
Polar bears’ prey of choice are ring seals, with the occasional bearded seal thrown in. According to Tyro, “they can really only catch seals when there is ice or ice floes.”
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Initially recruited to take pictures on the GBF trips, Tyro’s role has evolved to the point where he now regularly assumes the role of “bear monitor,” tasked with toting a firearm to ensure that members of the group do not inadvertently end up getting a closer glimpse of a bear than they’d bargained for. He says that about three or four times he has had to resort to firing warning shots with firecrackers at advancing bears, though the bears are not always frightened by firepower.
One time, Tyro says the group was out on the icy bay in poor visibility conditions when a hulking white figure began to draw near.
“A couple crackers didn’t deter the approaching bear and we had to get back in the bus,” remembers Tyro.
At the Northern Studies Centre, where GBF groups are stationed, Tyro says that the ground floor windows are covered with protective metal bars to prevent bear break-ins.
Despite the precaution, Tyro recounts another tale of a morning when he saw a polar bear staring at him through a second story window of the base. The bear had impressively leapt up onto the roof at a point where it was about six feet off the ground.
“By the time we came back that day, there were bars on that window,” recalls Tyro, laughing.
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Although seeing the bears is an awe-inspiring experience, Tyro has been visiting Churchill long enough to observe some troubling changes.
Tyro is careful to emphasize that he is no climatologist, but just from his “layman’s perspective,” things have undeniably warmed up over the last 30 years. For example, until last year’s trip (when the windchill dipped to 40 below), Tyro had gone for nearly a decade without using his heavy duty parka - an item that had long been an absolute necessity for November visits to Churchill.
The ice - and, consequently, the polar bear population - also reflects a warming trend. During Tyro’s visit in November 2010, ice cover on Hudson Bay was at its lowest level since 1971, at a scant 1.5 percent, compared to its 20 percent average. Overall, 40 percent of the summer extent of the polar ice cap has melted since 1979.
“What we’ve seen over the years is, many times, the ice forms much later,” said Tyro, noting that ice would form by Halloween when he first started visiting Churchill.
Polar bears, evolutionarily fine-tuned to hunt seals from the ice, depend on its presence to survive. As ice has dwindled, there has been a strong, negative correlation in polar bear numbers over the same time interval. Whereas the western Hudson Bay region once supported a polar bear population of approximately 1,200, Tyro indicates that that number has now shrunk to about 900. The decline in polar bears extends to nearly every other corner of their range for which the GBF has data.
In some parts of the Arctic Ocean, where summer sea ice has retreated to nearly 100 miles from shore, scientists have documented the first recorded instances of polar bears drowning - a startling demise for animals that Tyro says “float like corks.”
Tyro concedes that “there are a lot of challenges” facing polar bears, but expresses hope that one visitor at a time, the GBF can raise awareness of the bears’ plight while delivering potentially life-altering insight into the wonder of the natural world.
“There’s a guy from England about to go on his third trip who has totally changed his lifestyle,” Tyro says, referencing a GBF success story who has acted to make his carbon footprint more polar bear-compatible.
Tyro says getting those lifestyle changes to reach a critical mass could be the key to averting a future forever altered by global warming.
“Recycling, turning off lights - things that are inconsequential individually but make a difference if everyone does it.”
And, as Tyro can attest, the trips are good for meeting more than just polar bears, as he first became acquainted with his wife, Lori, on the 1988 expedition. Tyro has found those personal connections to be just as fulfilling as those forged with the wildlife and scenery.
“Over the years, I’ve developed some really great friendships with some of the people that live in Churchill,” says Tyro.
“I love to see the reactions of people on that first visit.”