2013 Telling our stories
Joe Scott International conservation director,
Call of the Wild
jscott@conservationnw.org
The way to live
Some people draw inspiration
from a single, compelling , "ask not
what your country can do for you"
speech or "one small step for man"
event. For others the process builds
over time—the product of a dozen or a
thousand sights, sounds, and moments.
I can't pinpoint any single source of inspiration that fuels my interest in conservation work. It's more of a collage,
little snapshots of energy that provide a
slow, steady burn.
My parents didn't take my brothers
and me camping, hiking, and fishing
when we were young. They were dedicated parents but those words weren't
part of their urban vocabulary. Our
wildlands were streets, school yards,
and ball fields. Stray dogs and cats were
their denizens, not coyotes or cougars.
I'm pretty sure the concrete and die-
sel fumes were early sources of inspiration, or more likely motivation. When I
finally laid eyes on big trees and mountains, the claustrophobia of my childhood environment evaporated.
Wild animals have always been a
part of my DNA, genes waiting to
be switched on by some evolutionary
electric current. Even though I sat glued
to the radio when Mickey Mantle came
to bat or Muhammad Ali danced into
the ring, I was also fascinated with
Marlin Perkins' wild friends and Johnny
Weissmuller's Tarzanic exploits—not
to mention Jane. That seemed like the
way to live—swinging from trees, not
subway car straps.
Since then I've been fortunate
enough to have had a lifetime of inspirational and awestruck moments—a
happy ending to a face to face with a
Joe in BC's Purcell Mountains. Tanja Wilcox
When I finally laid eyes on
big trees and mountains,
the claustrophobia of my
childhood environment
evaporated.
Yellowstone mother grizzly and her cub,
watching a sinuous braid of 20,000 caribou streaming over a West Arctic ridge.
But the most vivid of those moments
is the memory of my sons, barely a decade into their lives, casting trout lures
into a Sierra Nevada lake. I suspect similar scenes are the "Aha" moments for
many of us.
Kyle Empringham Social engagement coordinator,
For Grizzly Bears
Coast to Cascades Grizzly Bear Initiative, kyle@coasttocascades.org
Feeling something
When you look at a grizzly bear,
you can't help but feel something. If a
500-pound male grizzly is standing a
few meters away from you, you might
have sweat on your brow and start shaking in anticipation. But from afar, you'll
understand their majestic nature, beauty, and importance to our ecosystems.
Jewel was one of these bears. She
lived in the Stein-Nahatlatch area of
British Columbia and was one of an
estimated dozen female grizzlies in the
region. In late 2012, Jewel was illegally
killed from her home range, just south
of Lillooet.
I can say with confidence that Jewel
(and others like her) had a tough life. Her
Grizzly habitat, Stein-Nahatlatch. Joe Scott
sub-adult female cub named Jinx was killed in a supposed conflict in 2010. The life of these bears (from an already threatened
population) was far too short.
The loss of bears like Jewel also injures the populations they
live in. With a small group of bears that has an even smaller
number of females, it's safe to say that poaching and illegal
killings of bears is causing our grizzly populations to decline.
If this continues, we could lose grizzly bears altogether in this
region.
Conservation Northwest is part of the Coast to Cascades
Grizzly Bear Initiative. We're doing this to protect grizzly
bears like Jewel and to ask the government to critically think
about how we're going to save grizzlies in southwestern British
Columbia. By doing so, we move one step closer to protecting and connecting wildlife and wildlands from BC's Coast to
the Washington Cascades and to living in harmony with these
majestic bears.
You can be the hero in our quest to save these bears. Learn
more and take action for grizzly bears at coasttocascades.org.
4 Winter 2014conservationnw.org
