The Nature of the Beast (according to Susan McCarthy)

Polar bears and penguins

Near the North Pole, examining a submarine.

When we were getting ready to go to Antarctica, people warned us about polar bears. Polar bears, they pointed out, are fast, big, smart, dangerous. They are more inclined than other bears to view humans as fabulous taste explosions.

No, we said. We're going to the Antarctic, not the Arctic. There are no polar bears in Antarctica.

Oh yeah. Well, polar bears eat people!

During our stay, groups from our station occasionally visited passing cruise ships. The station manager and lab manager gave talks about the U.S. Antarctic Program. Then, Q & A for all of us from the station.

They told you that was a bear costume?

The ship passengers knew they would not be seeing polar bears. But some asked why. Ice and snow everywhere – perfect polar bear country. Why no big white bears?

Here are my responses – after looking it up – to the Big Questions.

Are there polar bears in Antarctica?
You already know: no.

Here's a way you might guess this from personal experience. Have you ever seen a photograph of a polar bear eating a penguin? Probably not. But if polar bears and penguins lived in the same place, there'd be photos. So far, no one's told me they've seen such a photo. Although there are zoos in this world, so who knows.


Why aren't there polar bears in Antarctica?

History! Really ancient history. There's a nice video by Sally Gillies that tells just how ancient. Basically, the bear family evolved in the northern hemisphere. As bears developed exciting new spin-offs (panda! sun bear! sloth bear!), some bears moved south. To this day, there are more bear species in the northern hemisphere than the south. The closest bear to Antarctica is the spectacled bear, which rambled south along the Andes. It gets no further down than northwest Argentina.

(In the Bronx Zoo.) Look at the size of those feet.

What with continents drifting apart and all, Antarctica is too far for a bear to swim. Up north, polar bears, who recently spun off from grizzly bears, had a smooth transition across land from warmer climates to icy ones. From there they could stroll onto sea ice. Or swim feasible distances.


So even if people weren't making life very difficult for bears (ask the extinct Atlas bear of northern Africa), and they were free to explore new niches, it'd be a long time, if ever, before a bear got far enough south to be selected for Antarctic living. And when we talk about people making life difficult for polar bears, the biggest factor is climate change.



Should there be polar bears in Antarctica?

No. You've heard that things are getting bad for polar bears. Because of Arctic warming, they're losing sea ice to hunt from. Habitat is melting out from under those huge furry feet.

Plate tectonics? What does that have to do with me?

You know somebody somewhere is thinking maybe polar bears could be transplanted to Antarctica. Sure, climate chaos is happening there, too, but for now there's still sea ice. Assisted migration! What could be bad?

Ask any penguin what could be bad. They will say “Awwwk! I see no problem! Awwwk!” That is because penguins are stupid about land predators. When early explorers brought sled dogs to Antarctica, penguins would walk up to the tethered dogs. “Awwwk! What's your story, furball?” The dogs would tear them to pieces. More penguins would walk up. “Awwwk! Are you new kids?” The dogs would tear them to pieces. More penguins would walk up. “Awwwk! Can I touch your fur?” And so on.

In the Svalbard Archipelago, eating a walrus. Gulls stand by ready to help.

Polar bears could devastate penguin colonies. In fact, polar bears are already turning to northern bird colonies. They're trying to survive by eating prey so small they previously didn't bother with them. Lots and lots of eggs.


So yeah no. Polar bears are an unpredictable bunch. Antarctic wildlife is also subject to the grievous insults of climate change. They don't need rapacious northerners on top of that.

Carpetbaggers, stay away!

Bears? Sure, bring 'em on. There's plenty of room. What ARE bears, anyway?

 

It's Funny You Ask

We have been asked how to repel macaques. Or rather, we have noticed that someone arrived at this website by searching for “how to repel macaques,” which we took as a cry for help. Unfortunately, there was nothing here about how to repel macaques. Nor is there an obvious site to refer the thwarted searcher to – nothing for Macaque-B-Gone, Macaque Solutions, or Macaque Motels. (“Macaques check in, and they order six of everything on the room service menu, and they trash the suite, but they don't check out!”) We hate to disappoint people who are nice enough to read the blog, so we're trying to catch up.

There's no way to know where these macaques are. Are they the macaques who hustle tourists on the Rock of Gibraltar? (Macaca sylvanus.) Are they the crab-eating macaques who raid the nests of endangered birds on Mauritius (where fools introduced them)? (M. fascicularis,) Or are they Japanese snow monkeys again (M. fuscata), invading someone's jacuzzi. So we'll have to take a broad-based approach.

No violent methods will be recommended – most macaques are protected. We reject violence. We prefer threats of violence.

Many primates have a threat display which consists of yawning widely, showing all one's fearsome teeth. It's not just that they're bored. They yawn more when they're not alone, males yawn more than females, and teenage males start yawning all the time. Macaques yawn more if some meddlesome scientist shoots them up with androgens (steroid hormones like testosterone). In the wild, male baboons yawn less if there's another male around with better, scarier teeth.

Photograph, Ryan E. Poplin.

This is why monkeys treat us with disrespect. We have puny teeth.

So for all your macaque-repelling needs, we say Think Teeth. Try the costume supply store and the fake Dracula teeth. Go for the biggest fangs available. Flash those macaques a big toothy smile. That should make them step back. Beam at them, letting the light glint off your canines. They'll start darting their eyes around, looking for an escape route. Say, “Are you as tired as I am, my furry little friend?” and do a long, huge yawn. Watch them flee.

What if macaques invade while your back is turned, when you're at work or out of town? Try leaving a great white shark's jaw on top of the fence post. Put big Jaws posters on the wall. (Hey! Wouldn't it be cool if just as the macaque is sneaking toward your refrigerator, one of those sets of chattering wind-up teeth comes hopping out? Rig up something like that! Send us the video!)

These methods are untested. Here at The Nature of the Beast, we have no macaques to repel. But we hope, intrepid searcher, that we have given you some useful ideas.

One thing, searcher. We advise against any effort to trap your macaques. As anyone knows who has trapped unwanted mice, relocation can be extremely problematic. They say that if you build a better mousetrap, the world will beat a path to your door. If you build a better monkey trap, you'll have a trap full of furious monkeys, and the world may beat a path to your door in the form of angry mobs of animal rights defenders waving pitchforks. And showing the big teeth may not work on them.