Encounter with a Costal Brown Bear

Whitehorse, Yukon to Haines, Alaska; five hours of ice-covered road through a lonely, vast stretch just below the Arctic Circle. Bill and I drove through it in awe, each bend in the highway coaxing out another surprised, “Wow… beautiful!” We saw fewer than ten cars the entire way. Snow swept sideways across the ice-glazed Alaska Highway while the dashboard optimistically insisted it was a warm 15°F. As we drove, we passed the time listening to Pastor Allen Nolan teach from the Book of Genesis, a book I’ve been studying for months now. The Bible’s account of creation tells us, among other things, that humans are to have of dominion (radah) over animals; however, as I listened to the lecture, I found myself wondering what that authority truly requires of us.

Our destination was Haines, Alaska, and the Chilkat Bald Eagle Preserve, but I had no idea that something other than eagles were waiting for us.

The Chilkat Bald Eagle Preserve hosts the world’s largest convocation of American Bald Eagles. They gather here in autumn because the Chilkat River remains unfrozen even when other nearby rivers freeze. The open waters allow the salmon to spawn and complete their lifecycle, guaranteeing an endless feast for the eagles. To see thousands of eagles along the river is common. Yet one morning, what I thought would be a day of eagle photography took a lucky turn.

Walking along the riverbank Bill noticed a deep depression in the snow. It was the unmistakable, massive footprint of a Coastal Brown Bear. These bears, coastal cousins of the inland Grizzly, grow impressively large on a rich, fatty diet of salmon. We followed the tracks from the mountain, down across the road and north along the river’s edge until the prints finally vanished near the water.

We returned to the car and continued north. Then, in a clearing beside the river, we saw him: a large Coastal Brown Bear! Several onlookers had stopped, some standing far too close. The bear, preoccupied with the enormous salmon he had pulled from the river, seemed utterly uninterested in us.

I jumped from the car and stood about fifty feet away from the bear. He was in no hurry, giving me time to adjust camera settings, refine my composition, and even capture some video. I lifted my Canon R5M2 with RF100-500mm lens already in place, and looked through the viewfinder. I quickly settled on a shutter speed 1/320, ISO 800, and f6.3.  Because I was shooting handheld, I was a little nervous about the relatively slow 1/320 shutter speed, but the bear was moving slow and needed as much light as possible because of the heavy cloud cover. I did not want to exceed an ISO of 800.

Golden-brown with dark legs and feet, he tore into the salmon with his teeth, using his massive right claw for leverage. Between bites, he glanced up at the river, then briefly at us. To my surprise, I felt no fear at all.

After finishing the salmon, he took a few steps, then plopped down to roll in the snow. It was a seemingly lighthearted and comedic end to his meal. When he rose and ambled north through heavy brush, the other onlookers moved up the road, hoping for another glimpse. I stayed behind, still savoring the moment.

Then, the bear turned, slipped into the river, and drifted back toward where I stood. I watched his massive head and two fuzzy ears sticking up above the water as he rode the current. Then, he paddled toward the far bank, climbed out, and shook off the water like a dog after a bath. I captured even more photographs of that wild, pure creature on the far riverbank, before he finally vanished.

I stood still, trying to commit the encounter to memory. I had tracked, found, and photographed a wild Coastal Brown Bear in his own domain. It was an exciting series of events! And this encounter had even given me the time to compose every frame with intention. I walked away with a photographer’s ultimate trophy.

But as I stood there elated, watching that magnificent creature trot away across snow and ice, the words of the Creation Account, words we had been studying on the drive to this very place, came into sharper focus. My encounter with this wild, untamed creature provided the true lens for interpreting the commandments in Genesis: Our dominion (radah) over the creatures of the earth is not a license for ownership, but rather a call to sacred, thoughtful stewardship (Shamar). It is a responsibility to guard and honor the wildness and perfection of creation. These animals are not merely subjects for art or sport; they are to be regarded with deep, quiet reverence, cherished and protected exactly as the Author of Life intended.