Face To Face With The Polar Bear (Wildlife Documentary)

In the Arctic Circle, the polar bear is king. It has no fear, but it does have an enemy, global warming. Scientists predict that by the end of the century, the summer ice will disappear around the North Pole. Filmmaker Jérôme Bouvier set out to follow two cubs to see how they cope with the melting ice caps. October. Winter will soon hit the Arctic. It's the best time for me to go to Cape Churchill in Canada, because here hundreds of polar bears are waiting patiently for the ice to return. When it does, they'll be off across Hudson Bay to winter in the far north. I've now been in Churchill two weeks. November is already upon us. The air is humid. The thermometer stuck at 28 Fahrenheit. It should be minus two. And there's still no sign of the real ice pack, only some light flows. I haven't even bothered to get into my extreme cold gear. It's a reprieve of sorts for me and a great time for tourists to get up close and personal with the bears from the safety of their tundra buggies. I never expected to see the effects of global warming so soon. The ice is 10 days late. And the bears have been stuck on land for three months with little or no food. The seals they hunt are out on the ice shelf. The longer the ice takes to return, the hungrier the bears become. They kill time the best way they can. And it's good practice for the hunting season. They're the largest carnivores on land and they weigh a good half ton. To watch them play is a humbling experience. What are they like when they're not playing? I'll have to be careful. On their hind legs, they stand 15 feet tall. And if they give chase, you have to run a brisk 30 miles an hour to see them off. The polar bear sits at the top of the food chain. The only thing they fear is being hungry in the Arctic, where the ice determines everything. Take out one link in the chain and the bear suddenly looks very vulnerable. In fact, this species is threatened. The ice is anything but permanent. It expands in winter and shrinks in summer. Even the area of permanent ice around the North Pole has shrunk by 7 percent over the past 30 years. That's a loss twice the size of Texas. Expect a summer without ice here before the end of the century. Around Churchill, the bears still look in good health. But appearances are deceptive. The Hudson Bay population, often collared for scientific study, has declined 16 percent over the past 20 years. The main reason? Global warming. The ice disappears two weeks earlier than it did 20 years ago. Two weeks less hunting for the bears. And a week without food means 20 pounds less fat. No small loss for a female in gestation. Their birth rate is declining. Males normally leave to hunt when the ice returns in October or November. But expectant mothers extend their summer fast through the winter. They'll hibernate in dens under the roots of trees until they give birth in December. But the trees are also disappearing. Higher temperatures mean less ground is permanently frozen. So there are more forest fires. The reproduction area of polar bears is shrinking. The late ice also forces females and their cubs into longer contact with aggressive and competitive males. And some can commit infanticide and cannibalism. Another destructive mix, the polar bear and man. Hunger draws them into the towns, dumps and city streets where they scavenge for food. Few people are killed by bears in this way, but the interaction isn't healthy for the bears. Every year, 150 bears, twice as many as 10 years ago, are tranquilized and ferried 60 or more miles to the north out of harm's way. Until the pack ice reaches Cape Churchill, harmless encounters are set to continue if we stay where we belong. But I've come to the end of my time here, and I'm more and more convinced that I must understand and film the threats facing this magnificent beast. Some biologists expect polar bears to disappear entirely from Hudson Bay before the year 2050. For this, my last day's filming, I hope for a more intimate encounter. I want some kind of relationship with a polar bear, not too close, but not too distant either. I can tell that getting close won't be possible this time. For him, we're just meat. Polar bears are one of the few animals known to actively hunt humans as prey. My mind is made up. I'm going to get out of this truck and into the open far from here. I'm going to see for myself the effects of global warming on polar bears in the heart of the Arctic. Jerome has five months to prepare for the next stage of his journey. Destination Spitsbergen, the Norwegian archipelago of Svalbard, home to 3000 polar bears. He'll follow a single family when face to face with a polar bear returns. The return of spring in the high Arctic. For me, it's the beginning of a new journey. I've traveled from Cape Churchill across the Arctic Circle to the island of Spitsbergen, just 600 or so miles from the North Pole. But I'm rapidly losing my bearings in this land of eternal sun and ice. My only landmark is my expedition base. It's named after an old trapper cabin and I'll share it with my guide. The bear that traps you is the one you do not see. As I prepare for my first day on the ice, I keep worrying about an old Eskimo proverb. I've got butterflies in my stomach, but I'm too keen to press on to let that stop me. Better not forget my harmless, but handy alarm gun. I'm a little too keen. Paul Myhrvold is right to hold me back. He'll carry the security guns. He lives on Spitsbergen and he's helped with many past expeditions. More than my guide, he'll be my bodyguard, too, while my eyes are peering through the camera. This deep bay is his territory. He's come here dozens of times to observe the bears. But first, we must find them. Tracking bears out here takes a lot of experience. Paul can read each footprint. These tracks are old. A young bear must have thought he heard a seal under the ice. An easy mistake for an adolescent. It was probably just the lapping of water. Further on, evidence that bears can't be far off. These faeces are still warm and Paul recognises the undigested white fur of a baby ringed seal. The tracks we just crossed indicate the presence of three bears. Grown males are solitary animals, so we weren't surprised to find the footprints of a female and her two cubs. One of them was walking in her mother's footsteps. But now things become more difficult. Paul can't make head or tail of these tracks. All he knows is that we're getting very close. These cubs are about one and a half years old and probably weigh over 200 pounds. And they're not shy. 300 feet further off, mother stands guard. Since they left the den a year ago or more, the mother won't let them out of her sight. She'll nurse them for another year and leave. The larger of the two cubs, perhaps a male, is extremely inquisitive. What does he want? Through my lens, I feel I can almost touch him. I'm getting nervous. But as long as Paul doesn't react, I must keep rolling. Where's he gone? Is he trying to get around us? Still no word from Paul. And the cub is now 60 feet from us. Too close for comfort. What's Paul doing? Why doesn't he get out the alarm gun? Shooing has no effect. The cub is now less than 40 feet away. Now the mother starts to grow anxious. And finally, so does Paul. It was the right move. What a rush. Filmmaker Jérôme Bouvier wanted to get close to polar bears in the high Arctic, but he wasn't prepared to get that close on his first shoot. The experience stands him in good stead for his next encounter when Animal Planet is back with Face to Face with the polar bear. The morning after my first close up with a family of polar bears on the Norwegian island of Spitsberg, temperature is minus two Fahrenheit, about average for this time of year in the high Arctic. But the bears are nowhere to be seen. What could possibly survive in this frozen wasteland? It's a still life photographer's paradise. But I'm looking for real life. And incredibly, it hides the bears main source of food. At the end of March, ringed seals are ready to give birth in snow drifts by excavating layers under the ice with their powerful claws. Females give birth to a single white coat, which won't take to the water for another six days. Time enough for a hungry polar bear to snuff it out. A few days later, I find my family again. And the temperature shot up to plus 26 when it should be well below zero in early spring. Paul is relaxed, not about the weather, but the bears. They ignore us this time. And mother has far more pressing business. Newborn seals hidden in snow drifts. She searches, sniffs and listens quite unconcerned about her cubs. At 18 months old, they leave the hunting to mother. Her eyes and ears are primed for the slightest crack in the snow or grating below. Then she'll pounce and break through the ice to seize her prey. Are the cubs wise to something? Their sense of smell is acute. A polar bear can detect the odor of a seal a mile away and hear a white coat under 40 feet of snow. The smaller cub, Paul says she's a female, freshens up. Bears have excellent insulation, a thick layer of fat, which means three degrees Fahrenheit is just right. Not too hot, not too cold. Anything much above that, they begin to overheat and slow down. They revel in frozen water and crusty snow. The larger cub, a male, if Paul is right, is the more active of the two. His behavior intrigues me. Has his mother's hunting technique already rubbed off? Whereas the mother is constantly on the move, her cub doesn't yet have the reflex or patience to inspect each snowdrift. But it's already made a good start, vital if it's to survive alone on the ice. The mother signals for the cubs to move on. An hour later, she seems to be onto something. A few hundred feet separate the bears from a group of ringed seals. The bears will have to be discreet if they stand any chance at all of a kill. A standoff like this in the open does not favor the bears. Without an element of surprise, the seals are as safe as houses. The best way for bears to catch seals on the ice is by still hunting. Waiting patiently over a breathing hole for the seal to surface. The other way around just doesn't work. A few days later, the wind makes filming quite a challenge. But we managed to keep up with our family and find them around a seal carcass. I don't think they made the kill. Their clean white fur is a giveaway. They must have stumbled across it. But beggars can't be choosers. Kill rates, even for polar bears, are low. Even if they spend half that time hunting, their chances of actually catching a seal are about one in 50. It's not just that seals are elusive. Climate change may also play a part. Global warming causes more snowfall and thicker snowdrifts, more difficult for bears to break through to the seals lair. In the long term, there'll be less snowfall, so the seals will give birth directly on the ice and the bears will have a field day. But that could lead to the rapid extinction of their favorite prey. It's a delicate balance. Right now, in-house competition means someone is left with the scraps. The carcass is all skin and bone. Bears need fat for energy. An adult can consume 100 pounds in one sitting. This little guy isn't doing too well. It's time for Paul and I to go our separate ways and leave the three bears. We've located their range and the two cubs still have another year with their mother. I want to return next spring to see how the young are making out on their own, without the richness of their mother's milk and her experience on the ice. I can't say I'll miss the old Texas bar, but I will miss the magic of this land. And I'll be thinking of them. They have one last year as a family to compete and survive together, where only the fittest will make it. What will I find here in a year's time? This cub will certainly have grown, but will it be so playful? Life evolves so quickly in the North Pole, a lot quicker than elsewhere. The Arctic environment is constantly changing. Global warming causes the ice shelf to melt and the seas to expand. And where the ice reflects heat, free flowing water absorbs it. As the sea heats up, the surrounding ice melts even faster. And the Arctic ice pack has already lost 40 percent of its thickness in as many years. It's a vicious circle that threatens to become irreversible. He'll have to do better than that to survive. But so far, he's beaten the odds. Most polar bears don't survive beyond their first birthday. Discover how much longer the great polar bear of the north remains king of the ice when Jerome returns face to face with the polar bear. A year later, in the archipelago of Svalbard, the seasons have shaped and reshaped the ice around Spitsberg. It retreats in summer and returns in October. Spring now heralds long days and wakeful nights. I'm eager to resume my journey in the high Arctic, perhaps a little too eager. Paul, my guide and friend, reminds me of the basic rules. He goes first, I follow. We must be more careful than last year crossing the fjord. The ice shelf is already cracked and in some places is wide open. My cubs have grown into beautiful adolescence and they look in great shape. They're two and a half years old and their mother has just left, possibly to find another mate. The cubs seek comfort in each other. Little do I know that this is the last time I'll see them together. It won't be long before they, too, split up and find ranges of their own as solitary animals. The male is quick to show signs of independence. He appears inquisitive, a little impatient. Is it us? Does he recognize our smell? And for the moment, he's not threatening his admirers. So I keep rolling. The more I observe him, the more he reminds me of his mother. The same behavior, the same reflexes. This time he's on to something. He is now a fully fledged, powerful predator. Almost half of all whitecoats die in this way. The rate of predation may seem high, but after a long evolution and coexistence with polar bears, ringed seals have survived well until now. Second to none on the ice, polar bears between the ages of three and five do have one unbending enemy famine. Only those that apply the right hunting techniques survive. Selection in the Arctic is ruthless. We stand in awe of this young bear's success. He's learned the lessons of his mother and is now fit to live on his own. A few miles away, his sister strikes out on her own, too, for the first time. She follows the smell of a carcass. But to get to it, she prefers to circumvent the cracked ice shelf rather than swim. We decide to stay put on our side of the crack. The shelf could break off at any moment and leave us stranded. As for the female, she closes in on her target. But she won't find it easy with an adult couple already sharing the carcass. The mating season has begun. Paul says the male weighs fifteen hundred pounds and the female is also impressive. They're both on heat. There's no reason to welcome a visitor. Didn't expect is for these two monster adults to head in our direction. We obviously disturb their meal. We have two options. Get out fast or trust their good intentions. Paul chooses the second. I just hope he's right. We live to breathe again. While the young female profits from the distraction until the competition returns. But like her brother, she has to learn to hunt if she's to survive. She still hasn't proven herself as a real predator. So I stay with her for a few more days. This is a bad sign. She's gone a whole week without making a single kill and is now reduced to eating algae. Scientists don't know if this behaviour is for the pleasure of chewing or to fill her stomach. They do say that a bear feeding off only algae faces certain death. Jerome and Paul leave brother and sister to their separate lives until the summer when the seals retreat with the ice and food is scarce. It'll be the cubs first summer without their mother. Face to face with the polar bear continues only on Animal Planet. The Texas bar fjord is only accessible by boat in summer. Paul, unfortunately, is no longer with me. But I've put together an experienced team. Sailing is good only because the weather is so warm. At the end of July, we should still be dodging large blocks of ice to get into the fjord. Instead, we glide smoothly along a wide avenue of free flowing water. The ice shelf should stay attached to the northeastern side of the Svalbard archipelago for the whole summer. But it's broken off, leaving the bears like our young female on dry land. For her, it's the worst of all possible scenarios. Her first solitary summer and no seals in sight. She'll somehow need a healthy supply of fat to hold out until autumn, especially this year when food is set to be in short supply for much longer. We're soon greeted by a creature with multiple heads, a colony of female walruses. But our bear is in for a surprise if she thinks live walrus is on the menu. They weigh in at 1500 to 4000 pounds. Yet they do panic for nothing. During the summer months when the ringed seals have followed the ice, walruses are a good substitute for a full grown adult bear. And scientists believe that the melting ice shelf could make the walrus hunt quite popular. A young bear can only hope for a walrus carcass. Every day she scours 20 miles of coastland in search of food. She'll try other neighboring fjords before returning to Texas Bar. Mid-August and her path crosses eider ducks at the end of their mating season. Birds a fair game if seals aren't around and walruses are too challenging. Hunger drives her from the barren coastline into the water. With their webbed front paws and long necks, polar bears are perfectly adapted to swimming for over 60 miles without stopping. She's heading for a group of islands where the ducks are still nesting. All she can find here are a few duck eggs to tide her over the food shortage. It's by no means a meal and the ice won't be back for a whole month. The return swim in freezing waters will burn valuable calories. The trip was barely worth it. Though her fat protects her, her fur is permeable. The brutal fact remains that if the shifting ice had not melted, she wouldn't have needed to get wet nor move from island to island. On the east side of the fjord, her brother also bides his time. After enjoying a good spring feed of seals, he's still looking in great shape. To think that he was so endearing a year ago. Now he moves like a grim reaper directly for us. His weight won't stop him from running. Far from worrying about his future, I worry about my own. He's making for the glaciers at the far end of the fjord. Where there's ice, there are seals, rare bearded seals. And before long, the glaciers of Spitsberg stand before us. Nothing, it seems, can stop the glaciers from shrinking. They've receded one to two miles in the past century. But no one can predict today with any certainty what the future really holds for the Arctic. The effects of climate change are extremely complex. The changing patterns of ocean currents could provoke completely unexpected results. Filmmaker Jérôme Bouvier steals himself for a doomsday scenario in the high Arctic in the concluding part of Face to Face with the polar bear. The unforgettable spectacle of the shrinking glaciers of Spitsberg has made us lose sight of our young male bear. Summer is drawing to a close and we want to keep up with him and his sister for as long as open water allows us. Then a member of my team spots the male between two icebergs. He's at it again. From the size of the catch, it must be a bearded seal caught napping while this great swimmer sneaked up unannounced. This is a perfect opportunity to see how this supreme hunter feeds. We must get as close as possible without disturbing the banquet. He strips the carcass to get at the fat, the only part which really matters to him. The fat will allow him to put on weight without expending energy digesting and he doesn't have to worry about the cholesterol. And there's another vital point. Fat contains valuable water, which bears need in an environment which otherwise offers them little to drink. This way, no energy is lost finding water. But were the bear to eat the actual meat, he would lose energy digesting and dehydrate in the process. The feeding habits of polar bears are perfectly adapted to their world. Nothing is wasted, even licking the ice for every last ounce of fat. The meat is abandoned for birds and less talented hunters as we turn our backs for the last time on one young bear that's made it. September, the wind and swell make me seasick. I'm cut out for ice, not waves beating against the hull. How I envy real sailors. Seasickness only deepens my fear. Several weeks have slipped by without us seeing the young female. We must catch up with her once more before the ice returns. We spot her in a fjord beyond Texas Bar. She's far from the great glaciers where ice flows bring seals. But she struggles on. It's not until she hauls herself out of the water that I see what state she's in. She's tired, emaciated and must find food quickly. Her fat reserves hardly protect her now from the cold. And from my own solitary vantage point, the full horror and reason for her predicament becomes clear. First, she started the summer too thin and unlike her brother, was unable to hunt effectively. Then the ice disappeared completely this year, even though we're in the heart of the Arctic. Though some bears are clearly more equal than others, I'm convinced she would have fared better under normal conditions. She must hold out one more month. Sadly, I think it's too much to hope for. Does her fate mirror the future of the entire species? The bears, so long masters of the ice, somehow adapt to the forces of global warming that are changing their environment faster than anyone could have imagined. At the rate at which the Arctic is melting, partly because of too much human pollution, polar bears cannot afford to wait for the answer.