True Nature

By Amy Gulick, Safina Center Fellow

“Life Force.” In Alaska, wild Pacific salmon drive entire ecosystems, providing nourishment for animals, plants, and people. ©Amy Gulick/amygulick.com

Weighing more than half a ton, a bear named Rocky ambles toward me. He has scars on his face and shoulders, and tattered skin on his sides. He’s a fighter, hence his name, and he’s healthy. His belly almost scrapes the ground. His enormous head melds into his massive girth, and each paw is bigger than my head.  He’s hungry. Fortunately for him—and me—there’s a river full of fish just steps from where he stands and I sit at the McNeil River State Game Sanctuary.

Established in 1967, the 200-square-mile sanctuary is protected wildlife habitat and home to the world’s largest congregation of brown bears (Ursus arctos). As many as 144 individuals have been identified in a single summer, with 74 bears observed at one time. From early July through mid-August, chum salmon return to the McNeil River to spawn. A mile upstream from the river’s mouth, the McNeil River Falls create a salmon traffic jam, providing excellent fishing opportunities for bears and outstanding bear-viewing experiences for humans. That’s why I’m here, along with nine other lucky Homo sapiens who won four-day bear-viewing permits in a lottery system through the Alaska Department of Fish and Game.

“Salmon drive the whole ecosystem at McNeil,” says Tom Griffin, sanctuary manager. “The common link among all the wildlife we see—bears, eagles, wolves, seals—is salmon. And the plant life is robust from the rich marine-derived nutrients that salmon bring in their bodies, which eventually fertilize the soil.

If it weren’t for salmon, we wouldn’t be here. If it weren’t for salmon, people who came to McNeil long before it was designated a wildlife sanctuary wouldn’t have been here either. The camp where we pitched our tents is pocked with shallow depressions in the ground, evidence of semi-subterranean dwellings of nomadic people. I can envision them paddling here in open skin boats, called umiaks, to spend the summer harvesting salmon, clams, berries, and medicinal plants. Perhaps they took steam baths fueled by driftwood from the beach not far from today’s wood-fired sauna overlooking a lily pond. They lived communally, sharing food, chores, and laughter, not unlike us sharing peanut butter, hauling water, and swapping stories. While they didn’t come here to watch bears, they undoubtedly viewed them with respect. Everything we do—eat, sleep, walk, and talk—is done with respect for the bears and their home.

We sit quietly near the roaring river. Rocky faces the falls, in solid defiance of the oncoming water tumbling over the boulders and swirling past his legs. The salmon defy gravity as they slip past the big bear and swim upstream. Rocky darts his head into the churning water and emerges triumphant with a flopping fish. It’s a female, and as the clamp of the bear’s teeth forces the eggs from her body, in that moment her life force is transferred to his. 

“You watch salmon fighting to get up the falls, giving it everything they’ve got,” says Tom. “They remind us that life is temporary, and to give it everything we’ve got.”

Watching the age-old scene of predator pursuing prey in a setting devoid of roads, motorized vehicles, crowds of people, or cell phone coverage triggers something deep within us. That wild part of our DNA, long dormant, awakens from its domesticated slumber. Places like the McNeil River make us feel alive, not because we’re seeking a thrill, but because what we didn’t know we were missing reintroduces itself. Connecting to our true nature makes us whole.

“McNeil River.” Today, the McNeil River State Game Sanctuary in Alaska attracts human visitors who come to watch brown bears feed on wild salmon. Long ago, this area was a place where nomadic Indigenous people came to harvest fish, clams, berries, and plants. ©Amy Gulick/amygulick.com

Amy Gulick is a photographer/author and Safina Center Fellow. Her award-winning books include: The Salmon Way: An Alaska State of Mind and Salmon in the Trees: Life in Alaska’s Tongass Rain Forest. Visit www.amygulick.com.