Most people have never heard of Charles Waterton, but
the conservation pioneer is credited with both inspiring
Charles Darwin to travel to South America (where the
famous naturalist would later develop his theory of
evolution) and constructing the world's first nature
preserve – a move that radically shifted 19th Century
attitudes when animals were more often feared and
exploited.
In light of recent debates between conservationists,
hunters and the general public on how to best preserve
and protect dwindling animal populations, I stopped by
Waterton Lakes National Park (WLNP) in Alberta, Canada,
where the conservationist’s namesake park is battling
with a bear population that’s encroaching upon nearby
towns, farms and ranches. Nearly 150 years after his
death – and 10 years after grizzly bear hunts were
suspended in WLNP – I wanted to see if Waterton's
philosophies of protecting all animals – even those that
are feared or seen as less useful – still worked in a place
where the wildlife has gotten too populous for the
protected area.
The largest of the three Waterton Lakes straddles the
Canada-US border, meaning you can wake up in Alberta,
hike into Montana and be back in Canada for supper. WLNP
isn't as famous or often visited as Banff , Canada's oldest
national park just 380km to the south, but those who
know it love it with an affection usually reserved for
hometown sport teams. Its two biggest draws are
wildflowers – more than 1,000 vascular plant species
grow here – and the bears.
At just 505sqkm, WLNP is the smallest of Canada's Rocky
Mountain parks. Yet it’s home to between 40 and 80 black
bears – far more than the park's ecosystem can support.
Canadian researcher Andrea Morehouse also found hair
samples from 177 individual grizzlies (a North American
subspecies of the brown bear) in the park and its
surrounding areas. As a result, the animals have been
seen venturing onto the plains where food is more
abundant. In 2014, the Fish and Wildlife Enforcement
Branch for Pincher Creek District – the area bordering the
north end of WLNP – recorded 52 incidents with grizzly
bears, including 17 proven livestock kills, two animals
injured and 21 instances of human conflict.
Visitors to the park are advised to carry with them a
canister of bear spray – pressurised pepper spray that
can convince even the most stubborn of bears to leave you
alone. But some children living near the national park
even carry bear spray to school, because walking from
their front door to the school bus stop might mean
negotiating a grizzly.
"Places I would have gone bareback riding as a kid, I
wouldn't send my kids there because there are bears,"
explained Jeff Bectell, a fourth-generation rancher and
president of the Waterton Biosphere Reserve Association,
an organisation that has developed a Carnivores and
Communities programme to tackle conflicts in
southwestern Alberta.
Parks Canada human wildlife contact specialist Jon
Stuart-Smith has seen a shift towards tolerance of
predators. “Even up to the 1940s, park employees were
encouraged to destroy predators to keep ‘good’ wildlife.
Now people come to the park to see predators,” he said.
To get a sense of how WLNP’s current strategies are
working, I met up with local rancher and bear expert,
Charlie Russell, who explained that bears are not
naturally violent towards people and that it’s possible to
live near these predators without fear. “A bear that likes
you won't hurt you, and I've tested that," he said.
I spotted my first bruin, a cinnamon-coloured black bear,
rummaging in long grass near the 14km Red Rock Parkway
that cuts through the park. Similar in colour to a grizzly,
it lacked the distinctive shoulder hump and dish-shaped
face of the bigger bears but seemed equally fond of the
protein-rich roots of yellow hedysarum and other
grassland plants. Later that evening I saw a darker-
coloured grizzly, lanky and slim like a teenager, slipping
down the boulders of a narrow riverbank and crossing
from one meadow to another.
While the prairie landscape gave me an unobstructed view
of the bears, it also gives the animals a clear view of their
food – not all of it grass. "In 18 years ranching next to
Waterton Lakes National Park, I didn't lose one cow to
bears, but I saw them killing cows on my neighbour's
property," Russell said.
To help farmers living near WLNP absorb the cost of living
with apex predators, the Alberta government compensates
for livestock killed by bears, although some farmers
complain it is too little or too hard to get. Currently
compensation comes from funds collected for hunting and
fishing licenses, although some ranchers have suggested
all Alberta taxpayers should contribute to the cost since
many of the bears seen in the national park live part of
their lives on the farms and ranches nearby.
I pondered my willingness to pay as I strolled through
Waterton town – and I stopped, puzzled, when I passed a
golf cart occupied by two border collies wearing reflective
orange vests. They sat quietly near a sign reading “Help
Keep the Wild in Wildlife”. "[The dogs] chase deer out of
town before they give birth because mama deer are very
aggressive,” a woman explained. The deer also attract
cougars, so keeping them away prevents another human-
wildlife conflict.
It seemed 150 years after his death, Charles Waterton's
philosophy of protecting predators was still in vogue, even
though his practice of putting fences around wildlife no
longer worked. Instead I saw humans and wildlife learning
to co-exist, with deer-herding dogs and bear-savvy
school children. People were building on the concepts of
Charles Waterton, protecting creatures for their own
value, while modifying them for a different era. And the
proof it was working was being able to watch a bear going
about his business without fear – on my part or the
bear’s.
