Polar Bears forced to migrate from America to Russia because of climate change

After two days driving through thick snow on America's most northerly tip, we had seen no sign of polar bears. The beasts, locals warned, are moving to Russia. 

“It wasn’t always like this,” said Herman Ahsoak, a whaling captain from Utqiagvik, Alaska, who was acting as a guide.

“Back in the late 1990s there were 127 here. I had never seen so many in my life. We had a dedicated patrol team to keep watch and protect the town.

“But when the sea ice really started to retreat, we stopped seeing them so often. I’m sure there is still a healthy population, but they have mostly moved on from here.”

In this part of America, where the average annual temperature has risen by 4.8°C in the last 50 years, one of the most visible signs of global warming is the mass exodus of polar bears.

The latest data on polar bears in the Southern Beaufort Sea - which stretches across the top of America and Canada - shows a 40 percent population drop between 2001-2010 from 1,500 to 900 individuals.

Global warming has caused sea ice to melt, depriving bears of their homes and hunting grounds. This September, there was an average of 1.9 million square miles of sea ice in the Arctic ocean. That’s 575,000 square miles less than the average between 1981 and 2010.

The problem is immediate: On Boxing Day, temperatures soared to a record 19.4C on the island of Kodiak - the highest December reading ever recorded in Alaska.

Polar bears, with their 42 razor sharp teeth, paws the size of dinner plates and 4 inches of fat under their black skin and white fur are some of the most resilient mammals on the planet. But scientists believe that climate change has driven them away.

Far to the west, on Russia’s Wrangel Island in the neighbouring Chukchi sea, the population has grown significantly, with scientists counting a record 747 bears in 2020, up from 589 in 2017.

The overall number of polar bears in the Chukchi sea has ballooned to 3,000 and they are described as being “in better condition, larger, and appeared to have higher reproductive rates than bears inhabiting the southern Beaufort Sea,” by Dr Karyn Rode, from the Alaska Science Centre.

“What is portrayed in the press and what is promoted by environmental groups creates a lot of stress because it is not an accurate picture,” said Dr Robert Suydam, a senior wildlife biologist for the North Slope Borough, in Utqiagvik.

“So frequently they are estimating that the populations in the Beaufort Sea have declined substantially but they are not taking into account how many bears have moved to other areas.

“Without a doubt, polar bears are struggling and will struggle with the change in ice. They have to adapt and they are. But unfortunately, some of these groups that are promoting that bears are in trouble aren’t giving the bears enough credit for how they can adjust to the change in environment.”

That doesn't mean that Alaskans are happy to lose their bears. “They are incredible animals,” said Mr Ahsoak. “But they are nomadic like us. Many have gone now and moved towards Russia. That is a shame because they really represent this area and who we are.”

Because the Chukchi waters off Russia are so rich with food, polar bears appear to need less time on the ice.

“Bears can withstand having a shorter time out on the sea ice each year because when they are on the ice, there are plenty of seals to go around to recoup those losses to a point,” said Eric Regehr, a former biologist with the US Fish and Wildlife Service who now works at the University of Washington.

The news comes with a warning: “Climate warming is the number one threat to polar bears throughout the Arctic,” says a recent Polar Bears International Report. “Even populations like the Chukchi Sea, where bears appear to have done well in recent years, will eventually become stressed and decline in numbers as sea-ice loss continues.”

But the population off the coast of Alaska, in the Southern Beaufort Sea, has not disappeared completely.

Back in Utqiagvik, as the sun rose above the horizon and the temperature climbed to -5 degrees, Mr Ashoak slung a rifle over his back and gestured towards a black Honda quad bike.

“A polar bear can run at 25 miles per hour. As long as you’re going faster you should be ok.”

We set off in the dark on the nine mile trip to Point Barrow - the northernmost tip of America, past what locals call “the boneyard” where they discard the twisted, rotting carcasses of whales that have been caught for local consumption.

As the snowstorm settled, they came into view: a female polar bear and her two cubs, bounding  along the shoreline, their bright white fur stained red from the blood of whale flesh they had been feeding on just minutes before.

We slowed the quad bikes to a stop and listened to the sound of the 220kg, 6ft long sow pounding the snow with her giant paws. The little ones fell into line behind her.

Soon, they ran out of road and plunged into the murky water - the youngsters clinging to their mother’s back as she battled through fearsome waves.

“They’re swimming towards that island,” said Mr Ahsoak, pointing at a nearby ice floe. “Only a few years ago, they could have walked to it.”