OPINION: Where animal attraction is natural
July 11th 1:06 pm | Lew Freedman

The story of the coyote and the bear at the Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center got my attention.
At one time, the center, located on the Seward Highway between Anchorage and Seward, had seven coyotes. But in an escape that Steve McQueen would have admired, they dug their way under the electrified fence and headed for the hills of the Chugach Range.
Except for one, who must have developed the Stockholm Syndrome and chose to remain with his captors. Food, water, shelter, "Hey, life's not so bad," he must have figured. So he stayed put on in the inside of the fence after the ground was sealed up.
The necessities of life were provided, but the coyote no longer had companionship of his own species. Instead, it was just him and the three grizzly bears. There is no porridge in this tale, but the coyote struck up a relationship with one of the bears.
It's not as if they hang together all of the time, going to night clubs, or take vacations together. But to the fascination of onlookers on the outside of the fence, the coyote teases the bear, circling through bushes behind him, trotting around the area, and provoking bluff charges.
The Conservation Center is a nonprofit organization with the stated mission of "preserving Alaska's wildlife through public education." The center takes in orphaned animals and while protecting them has evolved into an outdoor zoo of sorts, too. Center literature states that 250,000 people a year visit.
Mr. Coyote aside, the grizzly bears he shares 18 acres with are a more compelling attraction. Big bears are at the top of the food chain and they are also at the top of the attraction chain. Between me, my wife, daughter and two grandsons, we had a carload on hand recently.
The bears are big and brutish and beautiful all at once, and everyone in Alaska finds them compelling at the same time they fear them look at them because they have claws the size of steak knives. At the center, as one approaches the enclosure there are reminders not to do anything stupid around the bears. "Warning, Electric Fence. You Are Approaching Bear Territory." There's a clue. Also, "Dangerous Animals, Do Not Cross Barrier."
Two of the three bears munched on snacks just 15 feet the other side of the fence. One bear was hunched down, leaning forward, as he dug up roots and other veggies. He had his left paw arranged in a half-circle in front of his snout, almost as if to protect his eats. As if one of us was going to pole vault over that electrified fence and steal his food. His table manners were questionable. There was a whole lot of huffing going on and some of it surprisingly high-pitched like a bird.
The smallest bear began bounding away when Big Bear ambled over from the other side of the enclosure, snubbing Mr. Coyote. When Big Bear jogged back to coyote territory, he jumped in a pond, and upon emerging, shook his body like a dog spraying water. Meanwhile, the small bear stretched out on the porch of a dilapidated log cabin for a nap.
Other species besides grizzly bears inhabit the center. Moose, content to browse on supplied tree limbs, caribou, black bears, and musk oxen, have their own prime areas to roam. Also, it is good to be a wood bison at the center.
About 100 years ago, the wood bison was nearly extinct with only about 300 of them remaining. More recently, the center partnered with the Alaska Department of Fish and Game to bring the animal's population back. The restoration process has made the center one place that the buffalo roam. We saw 18 of them.
An eagle that can't fly again because of an incapacitated wing after being shot in violation of the law, and a great horned owl rescued from the wild, merit their own king-sized bird cages.
The main thing missing in a tribute to Alaska wild life was the mosquito. None were on display.
Lew Freedman is a former longtime Alaska journalist and the author of numerous books about the state.





