Charlie Russell - Grizzly Heart : Living Without Fear among the Brown Bears of Kamchatka

Praise for GRIZZLY HEART

With clear respect for the many bears that surround them, Russell and Enns offer deep insights into the bear psyche and eventually prove that it is possible for humans and bears to live together, even to trust one another. More an adventure narrative than a scientific study, the thrilling events of their story should not diminish the importance of what Russell and Enns have shown: humans are the aggressors here, not bears. Their message is strong, at times shocking, and eloquently told.

Quill & Quire

The account of the three orphaned cubs is rich in detail and insight.

Winnipeg Free Press

The value of his work is clear. During their time in Kamchatka, Russell pitted his instincts and beliefs about grizzly behaviour against the views of the experts, and emerged enlightened. Through hundreds of encounters with grizzlies and the experience of raising three orphaned cubs, he and Enns paint a picture of bears as intelligent, emotional, reasonable and predictable, yet forever on the receiving end of all things nasty in human-bear encounters gone wrong. Its an uphill battle, not without its risks and disappointments, but Grizzly Heart shines a light on whats possible.

The Calgary Herald

Its a compelling read about their effort to prove a peaceful coexistence isnt reserved for fairy tales.

The Edmonton Sun

To my son, Anthony, who at age eleven saved my life in the only physical
altercation I ever had with a bear.

Charlie Russell

I n the spring of 1994, in the rain forest along the Khutzeymateen Inlet of British Columbia, I sat on a moss-covered Sitka spruce log as a female grizzly bear walked down the log towards me. I knew if I did not move, she would keep coming. I had decided to let her come as close as she wanted.

Occasional slivers of sunlight penetrated the high spruce canopy. I was in a moss and jade world that, until that moment, I had only fantasized sharing with a grizzly bear. This bear and I were not strangers. For five years I had been guiding bear watchers into the Khutzeymateen and, being uncommonly friendly, she had been one of the main attractions. Now, looking into her eyes, it seemed she wanted to push the frontiers of her experience with humans, just as I wanted to embark on something new with bears.

As she made her way down the log, she moved with a swaying nonchalance. I am certain she was trying to set me at ease. I tried to accomplish the same thing in reverse by talking to her in the calmest voice I could muster. There was an uncertain look on the bears face, and a similar look must have been on my own.

Finally, she sat down beside me. After a time, she moved her paw along the log towards my hand and touched it very gently. I reached out and ran my finger along her nose, feeling her well-muscled upper lip, which she pronated to explore my fingers. She let me feel her teeth, and then, without understanding why I was driven to do so, I slipped my fingers into her mouth and slid them along the tops of her square grinding teeth. I ran my index finger back along the ribbed roof of her palate. She could have had my hand (and the rest of me) for dinner, but she did not.

Even as it happened, I knew I was experiencing something that would likely change the course of my life. If I could build on this moment, correctly and ambitiously, the significance of what had just happened might have the power to change the relationship between humankind and bears. I know how that must soundlike advanced megalomaniabut I still believe it is true. So much of the reputation of bears, and peoples fear-dominated, love-hate relationship with them, is based on the belief that the experience I enjoyed is not possible. If I could prove that it was not a fluke, not an anomaly particular to this time and this bear, a huge shift in perception might flow from it. People might learn to live with bears in a way that would not lead to collision, violence, and the ongoing destruction of a threatened species.

I also knew in that moment that I could not back away. What was happening was something my life had been moving towards for decades, and from which I must not swerve. I had to follow where it led.

Where it led was to Kamchatka, to the most remote and wild part of Russia, to the least despoiled grizzly bear habitat in the world.