Bear-ly time to think...

As part of my second year university module, we were required to plan an ‘expedition’ of our choice, with specific aims wherever we saw fit and affordable. Our aim was to see and photograph Wild Bears. Not baited, but wild in the sense that they had very little contact with humans. So I flew out to meet my team mates (Dan, Paul, Ryan and Rob) who had driven overland in a 4x4 to Bucharest, Romania in May 2012. Once we had found each other and rested, we journeyed northwest to Ojdula - a peaceful Hungarian gypsy village, North of Brasov, deep in the wilderness off the Carpathian Mountains.

It was a pretty village, full of sound, but the residents clearly didn’t know what to make of us. They stared wherever we went. Our accommodation was situated directly above a pub. Pints worth the equivalent of 30p; excellent.

We were working alongside a charity; the TWP (Transylvania Wildlife Project) who had agreed to escort us around in search of our target in exchange for a promotional video. Of course, we obliged.

The Carpathians are the last remains of vast virgin forests in Europe and are still capable of supporting good numbers of native wildlife, including large carnivores that have otherwise been forced to near extinction in Western Europe. Brown Bears, Wolves and Lynx all thrive there but despite folklore, the latter two pose no threat to humans and typically remain elusive at the best of times in the great forests. Bears on the other hand are much more prominent and chances of conflict are relatively high. So a TWP tracker was gratefully received, as were two tins of Bear spray (a high concentration of pepper spray).

Twelve days had passed; we had walked tens of miles from dawn to dusk each day and were truly shattered. We were all beginning to get fed up. We had seen several Wild Boar, Carpathian Red Deer, Roe Deer, and Fox amongst countless species of Bird, but still no Bear. We knew it would have to take something special for us to see the very elusive Lynx or Wolves, but we really expected to have seen a Bear by now! Even the trackers were becoming frustrated with how unlucky we had been. Their existence was evident all around us with prints and fresh scat, sometimes very fresh, but still no actual sightings. Even a local shepherd had accidently managed to stumble upon a Bear in the time we were there. Three in fact; a mother with cubs. Unfortunately for him he was stood between them, so was subsequently attacked. Luckily the commotion attracted the attention of his (and a fellow shepherd’s) sheep dogs who intervened. It took eleven large growling dogs to discourage the female Bear and convince her to move her cubs elsewhere. The shepherd survived, but  only just.

Our tracker for the day; Barni, took us to Sfanta Ana Lake (an extinct volcanic crator) further up into the mountains. Here we stood a better chance of seeing a Bear. For hours we walked around a peat bog before emerging the other side where a shepherd watched over his flock of sheep. His dogs barked at us as we approached. Barni spoke to the guy; he had seen a Bear, a large male just thirty minutes previous. Damn - so close! We walked up into the forest where the Bear had come from, scanning from a wooden hunting tower for several minutes. On a normal walk through the forest you are bombarded by a cacophony of bird song. Robins, Wrens, Orioles, Warblers, Tree Pipits and so on, the drumming of woodpeckers frequently rattling through the trees. But today; silence. It brought a very eerie sense to the atmosphere that we subconsciously adopted as we walked deeper into the woods.

Barni ordered us to halt; a rustle in the bushes ahead and a bear bolted from the undergrowth in the opposite direction. The briefest view possible of young male known to the area, but only half the group (including myself) managed to connect. In a way I wished we hadn’t seen it at all as it didn’t seem fair on my companions.

Sadly it was long gone but we continued further, trampling through the undergrowth in no particular direction. Ten minutes had passed, when Barni ordered us to stop again. I immediately clocked what he had spotted. Fifty yards in front of us was a huge beast of a Bear, a massive male, much larger than I had ever anticipated them being. We were downwind, but it was nonetheless fully aware of our presence. It looked straight at us and sniffed. Its face bulky and round like a huge dish with comparatively small eyes but large snout. We instantly made a grab for our cameras and shot away like machine guns. It slowly backed away, before fully turning and running over the brow of the hill. Wow.

Expecting it to be gone like the previous one, we walked up the hill to where it was before only to stumble on it again, slightly more agitated this time. It swayed its head back and forth, up and down several times, clearly indicating we needed to back off. We had hardly a chance to react, before it bolted again. This time in our direction! It was charging us!

Now I know I can’t speak on behalf of the others, but to put it mildly I panicked and seriously didn’t know what to do. I seemed to be positioned in a slight clearing between trees. I felt vulnerable, like a sitting duck. I dashed to my right to get near a tree, not that that would’ve helped me. Rob grabbed me, as he knew I had the pepper spray in my pocket. All the while the Bear was racing closer. I remember catching a movement out the corner of my eye as I began to make my move. Barni simultaneously made a dash to his right too. A Bear’s eyesight isn’t particularly sharp so I don’t think it had envisaged there being more than one of us. Suddenly feeling outnumbered, it stopped and stood just twenty yards from us - way too close for my liking, but then promptly scrambled in the opposite direction. Calling it a huge relief was a bit of an understatement. My legs were like jelly; we were stunned by what had just happened. Barni wanted to go after it again but that was certainly a close enough encounter for us. Nothing can prepare you for an animal of that size charging; I have never experienced such an adrenaline rush as that.

Wanted!

The resounding alarm of the pager alerted me to the discovery of a White-tailed Plover at Seaforth Nature Reserve in Merseyside on 27^th May 2010. This was a species I had missed in Scotland some years previous and was one I thought I’d have to wait another twenty years for a second chance at seeing. So obviously I was very keen to make plans to get up there for the next day. At the time, I was working in Southampton, so arranged for the next day off and found two willing passengers (Kelvin and Colin) and planned to convene with them at 2am the next morning.

I had promised to phone my girlfriend; who was staying up late in the library to finish an essay for a deadline due the following day, whilst on the way to pick up my companions at an arranged meeting place just a few miles away. I had fallen to sleep early as hoped to get a few hours in before the long drive, only to be rudely awoken by my (thankfully) persistent girlfriend at 2:45 wondering what had happened to her call. Christ, I had overslept!! I had numerous missed calls from Kelvin with several voicemail messages. My two passengers had left without me.

Nonetheless I was willing to do this journey alone, regardless of the cost. I got dressed within a flash and was out the door. I eventually managed to get in contact with Kelvin, who was gradually progressing northwards up the A34 not too far in front, so we arranged to meet at a service station 45 miles north at Chieveley as soon as possible.

My little blue Peugeot 306 only dropped below 90mph once - to the sight of blue flashing lights that were rescuing a driver from an overturned car (and clearly overweight boat on a trailer) on the central reservation. I was with Kelvin and Colin within 30 minutes. Kelvin had left his Ford KA under the flyover with several parked lorries, as the services only had a two hour limit on parking. I pulled into the empty services at the rates of knots, my passengers threw their gear into the boot, got in, and we raced off again at top speed to make up for lost time. My car rattled every inch of the way.

The remainder of the journey was fairly uneventful; we arrived shortly after dawn and were treated to decent views of the Plover, albeit between gaps in the heavy duty security perimeter fence. Everybody was happy and we headed back south again.

We made good time and were quickly approaching Chieveley. By 9:30am I pulled off the appropriate exit and proceeded in the direction of Kelvin’s car. At this point Colin joked “Ha Kelvin, it would be funny if your car was gone”.  As I made the final roundabout, everything went into slow motion at this point as the roundabout seemed to go on for an eternity and we were all expected Kelvin’s car to come into sight at any moment. It didn’t. His car was actually gone!

We drove up and down several times bewildered; I don’t know why, it wasn’t like his car was going to miraculously reappear, we just simply did not know what to do. Even the lorries had gone. We eventually decided to investigate at the services, a few hundred yards away. There was a police car; 'Ideal!' we thought. Kelvin leapt out of the car to locate the officers whilst I parked up. Colin quickly noticed that there wasn’t just one police car, but several scattered around the car park. That’s when alarm bells started ringing. We went to find Kelvin.

It was ridiculously crowded inside but it soon became apparent why, as half of the services had been cordoned off with red and white tape. Kelvin was impatiently waiting at the edge of the cordoned area trying to attract the attention of an officer. Eventually he grabbed one and began to ask questions about his little red KA, with Colin and I behind him, but promptly realised the seriousness of what was going on once we’d spotted a trail of blood droplets across the floor.

The Detective Inspector (or whatever he called himself) came out, told us he knew exactly what had happened to Kelvin’s car and was keen to ask us further questions. What were we doing at the Services? Why was the car parked where it was? Did we see anybody? And so on... Once he had come to the eventual conclusion that we were merely humble birders on a ‘twitch’ (the proof was in our notebooks), then he could eliminate us from his enquiries and so explained where the car was and what we needed to do to collect it. At this moment we were still oblivious as to what had happened, and so that’s what I kept telling the inquisitive (nosey) little old ladies who kept asking me what on earth was going on. Unbeknownst to us, the car had in fact been towed away and locked in a compound.

Some twenty miles away in the middle of nowhere, the KA was positioned outside waiting for us. It had a small dent in the boot but was otherwise fine. Kelvin signed the appropriate documents for the release of the car and claim for damages before we were free to go; it was only now we were given the story of what had really happened.

When I pulled into the car park that morning to collect Kelvin and Colin from the services, we were blissfully unaware of the armed robbery taking place inside at exactly the same time. It all began to make sense. The KA appeared on the cameras at the same time as the robbery and so was suspected of being the ‘getaway car’. Not a very fast one, that’s for sure. The blood on the floor was the result of a blow to the head of a checkout girl who was bludgeoned with a hammer (as far as I’m aware she was OK; recovering in hospital). But I can only imagine how suspicious we must’ve looked on the CCTV cameras as I pulled in at top speed to collect two guys, who threw black rucksacks into the boot of my car before speeding off again. It certainly explains why were being questioned so accusingly; we were 'wanted men' for several hours!