Nanuk felt very lonely. He nudged his mother as she lay there, her faint, shallow breathing strained with each heave of her chest. Close by on the hard dry rocks, lay several rotten carcasses, the remnants of ringed seals, festering with maggots. Nanuk watched the carcasses as newly hatched flies buzzed and glistened above them in the warm noonday sun.
There were a lot of seals like this, all along the rocky barren shore, bloated, stinking carcasses, inedible to any other life form. They were poisoned by sea cod, which in turn were poisoned by krill which, in turn were poisoned by foul-smelling poisoned algae.
Nanuk’s mother’s thoughts were of an age long ago, an age when she was young. She had hunted in the ice shelf, waiting, so still, so patiently, listening for movement. There was a sudden ripple in the water pool, left by a seal to come up for breath. She leapt on a seal snout, which was just beginning to poke out of the breathing hole, before it got her scent. It was exciting, exhilarating, she felt good. The air and the water were cold, clean, refreshing; it was good to be alive.
She forgot about Nanuk for a moment and drifted deep, so deep, into her thoughts, her memories. Then the breathing stopped as Nanuk’s mother slowly gave up her fight, her will to live. Her spirit deserted her tired, hungry, worn out body.
She could have eaten the day before, Nanuk had. He had climbed the sharp rocks and found petrel eggs by the score. His mother was just too weak, too ravaged by the last few months of vain unrewarding hunting, of feeding Nanuk her milk, her last reserves of energy.
As Nanuk nudged her lifeless body and he felt that feeling again, it overwhelmed him. It was a feeling of loneliness, of no going back, of foreboding. He sat there for a long time, then nudging her body for the last time, as if saying goodbye, he wandered off into an unknown future, a world changed forever.
Nanuk is a bear. He belongs to the genus Ursus Maritimus, the sea bear, commonly known as the polar bear, the largest terrestrial carnivore on the planet.
While it has been known for some time that the polar bear was in trouble, discoveries some years ago showed that Arctic ice - the polar bear’s primary habitat - was melting much faster than scientists had believed. The world’s largest terrestrial carnivores, polar bears, relied on sea ice to live, to survive; it was their natural habitat.
Not too long ago there were about 15,000 polar bears in
The populations in the southern limits such as
The chain, the circle of life that had held in harmony all living things on planet Earth, had been broken, broken by another species of the planet. It had been broken by a vain, self-pleasing, self-gratifying, conceited species called Homo erectus. This species thought it had the measure of all things, but it was only the measurer, and what it measured was fast shrinking.
How did this happen? Where did the ice go?
It started to happen over a hundred years ago. Man made it happen. The want of man, the craving for irrelevant material things at any cost, made it happen. The total disregard for nature, of the other species that shared the Earth, made it happen. The pollution of the atmosphere, the sea, the land, made it happen.
As Nanuk walked along the shoreline trying to find fresh, clean meat he sniffed the air, some humans were near. They were a band of starving Inuits, who had a lot in common with Nanuk. They came across him in a small cove. When their surprised gazes were turned upon him they at first stood still, then fell on their knees and cried a mournful chant to him, an ancient prayer to him. Tears rolled down their cheeks as they watched him pass, this lonely wanderer of the north in a white coat, this lonely, magnificent creature, and he was lonely… He would always be lonely...
He was the last one!
A story for you and if you think it is sentimental mush, you had better think again!
The first six months of 2010 have been the hottest on record globally, scientists have said.