Theo and the Three Bears at Anchorage Zoo

 We know what you're thinking--Theo and the Three Bears--we're stepping into a fairytale but no, we're wandering around the zoo in Anchorage to see the bears. Now there are bears in other zoos, but it's not often we get to see the bears up close. 

First stop . . . we have the chance to see what we haven't seen for a long time--a polar bear. Even though we're farther away that we'd like to be, we can still catch a glimpse of him. Polar bears used to be at the Philadelphia Zoo but no more. So this is a real treat. Why?

It comes down to statistics. Polar bears evolved from brown bears nearly 200,000 years ago. They are the largest land predators in the world. In captivity, they can live forty years. In the wild, that number is reduced to twenty years. Male bears can weigh 1300 pounds. Females weigh near 600 pounds. They eat seals and whale carcasses. The global population is less than 25,000 bears due to arctic warming, global pollution, and increased human activity which squeezes them out. In 1973 five countries signed an agreement to protect the polar bears. That is why they are a precious sight to see:

It's not often we get to see bears eating a watermelon, but we're getting ahead of ourselves.

Theo spots the black bear first. We are only a few feet from him, separated by the bars of a cage, but we can smell him even from this distance. Theo can't get any closer and if he were smaller, he probably would have squeezed his body through the bars. 

"He may eat you," we have to remind Theo. "Not all animals are friendly. This bear isn't Smokey the Bear's brother or cousin."

Of course, Theo knows that, but he is intrigued. Bears are one of the mysteries of life.

I am on high alert, far enough away to give Theo space, but close enough to whisk him away if there's any danger. There isn't.

This bear doesn't give a hoot about Theo. He's interested only in the watermelon that suddenly appears. He can smell it and he'll eat it. 

"This is fun, isn't it?" I ask.

Theo is mesmerized. It's not everyday you can watch a black bear eating a watermelon.

Finally, we move on . . . to bear #3, the brown bears. Brown bears and grizzly bears are the same species. Brown bears live on the coast and hibernate when food is scarce in winter. Their body temps, heart rate and metabolism becomes lower. Brown bears in milder climates don't hibernate at all.

Bears love salmon and will tolerate hanging out with other bears in a large group when the salmon are running. They also eat plants and large prey such as moose or caribou.

Bears also quickly associate a food source with a human and that's when they become dangerous. It is illegal to feed a bear or leave garbage where they can access it or kill a bear that is attracted to food or garbage. Bear attacks on humans are rare. From 1900 to 1985 only 20 people have died from bear attacks. On the other hand, humans are a bear's biggest threat to survival.

In the wild these bears can live for 30 years as compared to in captivity where they can live for 40 years.

Male brown bears can weigh up to 900 pounds. Females usually weigh closer to 500 pounds.

As we're slowly walking away, I can't help but say, "Now you know how Goldilocks felt with her three bears."

Theo is not amused. This last bear, the brown bear, is quite a character. He naps on top of the table, then leans against the table as if he's posing or, perhaps, thinking about life. 

Theo's Zoo Visit-From a Falcon to a Reindeer

 Traveling with a gangster cat isn't easy. Sometimes we have to bribe Theo with treats, but not this time. From Theo's point of view, there's nothing that beats going to the zoo. 

Dan, Theo and I go to the Philadelphia Zoo all the time. We've visited the zoo in Washington, DC to see the elephants. We've hung out with the koala bears in San Diego. We've been to zoos all around the world--Rome, Beijing (to see the panda bears), Hawaii, London, and even the Schonbrun Zoo in Austria.  

Of course, since we're in Anchorage we must go to their zoo--founded in 1969 to conserve the Arctic species--and see animals we don't usually see up close and personal. How will Theo react to animals he's never seen or sniffed before? That is the question. Who will his favorite be?

The air is cool, and the sun is almost shining. It's the kind of day that when you take a deep breath, you taste the power of Mother Nature at her finest.

First stop is a Peregrine Falcon, which has an interesting history. Human have hunted these falcons since 2200 BC in China. Even William Shakespeare enjoyed the sport. The peregrine was always admired and reserved for hunting with royalty. These falcons themselves hunt all kinds of birds and are the fastest birds in the world (we're talking 238 miles an hour) when in pursuit of prey.

Peregrines declined in the USA due to DDT pesticide (banned in 1972). Falconers helped to breed and release over 5,000 peregrines from 1974 to 1999, when they were removed from the endangered species list. 

Theo is all agog. After all, the Peregrine Falcon is a bird. His fondest wish is to stalk, sniff and hopefully catch a falcon. Ha. Ha.  We literally have to drag Theo away from the falcon.

"There are other animals to see." 

We spot what looks like a buffalo but is really a Tibetan Yak and Theo is instantly mesmerized by this glorious animal with the funny horns. 

"Theo, this is a domestic yak. The males weigh up to 1200 pounds and can live for 25 years. In contrast wild yaks live between 14,000 and 20,000 feet in cold, oxygen poor air. They have extra red blood cells for carrying oxygen and two extra rib pairs for deep breathing. Less than 10,000 wild yaks remain alive as compared to twelve million domestic yaks who live on the Tibetan Plateau. Yaks fear hunters, cross-breeding efforts, disease from the domestic yaks and livestock grazing that push wild yaks from grassland habitats.

 

Theo has no comment. He wants to get closer to the yak and at one point reaches his paw through the fence. Unfortunately, the yak is conked out (mid-morning snooze) and doesn't react. 

A Bactrian Camel is next. This is the second time we've seen a camel in a zoo, but their wild brothers live in the Gobi Desert of Mongolia and China. The desert has harsh conditions--rain once every three years and sandstorms that can blow the paint off a truck. But the camel has long eyelashes, clear eyelids, ear hair and nostrils and lips that seal shut. They can survive temperatures of 40 degrees below zero to 120 degrees above zero, can drink salt water, and have survived nuclear testing in the Gobi Desert. 

The domestic camel can carry 600 pound loads for 30 miles a day. 

There is something intoxicating about a camel. Theo and I took a camel ride in the Sahara Desert and we met a baby camel in Morocco so Theo has no fear. He cat walks up to the fence and meows. "Just let me sniff you," he seems to be saying. But the camel prefers not to. 

Next up is a Caribou. "Look at those antlers, Theo."

Why does a Caribou look like a reindeer?

Answer: In Alaska caribou is a wild reindeer. In Europe all wild and domestic caribou are called reindeer. Geez. They can adapt well to Arctic conditions. Their fur is hollow and well insulating. Their hooves are hard for ice traction. They can live up to 20 years in captivity and 10 years in the wild. They weigh between 300 (females) and 600 (males) pounds. An adult reindeer can eat twelve pounds of plants a day. 

We can't resist talking about Santa Clause and the reindeer. Theo listens patiently, rolls his eyes only a little and as soon as we're finished, lobbies for a snack. One more thing--we talk about how climate change has affected the animals. 

By this time his cat eyes glaze over.

He's right. We need a break. As we're walking to the very small cafe/counter where there's food, I have to ask him. "What's your favorite so far?"

He doesn't miss a beat. "The falcon."

Of course. Birds on the brain always if you're a cat.

Eagle Eyed Theo Spots Salmon

 Theo, the gangster cat, and I disagree on one thing--salmon. He loves any kind of salmon--chicken and salmon, salmon by itself, tuna and salmon . . . while I eat salmon religiously once a week and can only do so if I cook it in an air fryer and smother it in a tangy teriyaki ginger sauce. 

Nevertheless, we're both keen to watch the salmon run in Anchorage which occurs May through June for the chinook salmon and July and August for the hatchery seeded coho salmon.

I know little to nothing about salmon. Experts promise that in August you can see literally thousands of salmon making their way up Ship's Creek, which lies in the industrial heart of Anchorage. Ship's Creek runs through the port and alongside the ocean waters of Cook Inlet. 

So, of course, after a delicious lunch we trek to Ship's Creek, following a touristy kind of map which is mostly accurate, but not really. I'd like to say that it was our superior navigation skills that land us in the right location so we can look down from a kind of boardwalk and see the salmon, but that isn't true. I can only attribute our success to Theo and his amazing sniffing ability. 

Amidst the mud and sledge flats, fed by ocean waters, the salmon run. But here's where seeing the salmon gets tricky.

Dan and I are there in exactly the right spot (according to Theo) but see nothing. Theo, however, is intently looking down, his tail wagging a mile a minute, and we fear that soon he'll decide to jump off the boardwalk into the water. He has that stalking look on his face. And he's bouncing up and down, as if ready to pounce.

He sees something. We see nothing.

According to the experts, coho salmon are a dark metallic blue color with greenish blue backs in the ocean, but when they enter the creek they go through a hormonal change and turn a deep dark muddy green or charcoal gray color. That's what we're looking for--green or gray.

The sun is shining brightly. Dan grabs ahold of Theo and holds on to him for dear life. We're not amateurs when it comes to this gangster cat who will stop at nothing when there's food involved. 

"Theo, Theo," I hiss, "Do you see anything?"

Theo, ever patient with mere humans who can see yet not see--when it comes to those things most important--points his sleek paw at the precise spot in the water where we should see something. 

A miracle happens. Suddenly the water isn't just water anymore. It's chocked full of what look like long narrow black fish, crammed together (yes, like sardines in a tin can). 

We stay for a long time watching the salmon run. Eventually Theo realizes we're not letting him jump into the water and get swept away. He relaxes somewhat (if that's possible) and watches the show. We learn that it's not unusual for the salmon to appear black in the water. We can thank Mother Nature who's designed what they call "countershadowing" to camouflage the fish if the All Fishing Prohibited sign doesn't work.

If you see one up close and personal, they appear almost silver with black spots on their back. The fish meat inside is orange colored. 

When we finally walk away, I feel like a salmon expert. Theo, on the other hand, squinches his cute face, rolls his eyes, and meow whispers, "Dream on."

Theo Sniffs Totem Poles

 We arrive in downtown Anchorage, Alaska, which I can't describe as a thriving metropolis, but it is Alaska's biggest city. Finally, you feel like you've returned to civilization as we know it, the good and the bad. 

Anchorage is home to half of Alaska's population. James Cook arrived here in 1778 on his search for the Northwest Passage. At that time Russian fur trappers lived here and traded with the local natives. The Gold Rush of the 1880's and the Alaskan Railroad in 1915 brought more settlers.

We decide to visit The Alaska Native Heritage center in Anchorage, even though the moment we mention "museum," Theo puts on his saddest pout face. We lure him with snacks. 

"There'll be plenty of snacks along the way," we promise. "This museum is special," we tell him--marketing is key in this kind of situation--because it not only has indoor exhibits (Theo ho hums his disapproval) but also a model outside of authentic Eskimo dwellings and customs. 

First the inside where we glimpse rare finds of eskimo art and totem poles, which Theo sniffs. We can't resist telling Theo that totem poles tell us a lot. The carved animals and figures are a kind of family crest and represent ancestral spirits and supernatural beings that connect to the village.

In a time when there was no central heating in a colder than cold climate, we see what kinds of clothing the natives wore:

Outside, we wander along a path and see what a native village would have looked like a century ago. The only thing we know are igloos, that the natives built in the snow. We have a lot to learn.

Since Alaska is 14.2% water, measuring 94,743 miles (the largest total amount of water in the USA) fish was their staple food--they built racks to dry the fish on:

Theo trots over to sniff the rack.

The locals stored their food high off the ground so the animals couldn't reach it:

Theo needs to sniff the poles.

The villages were tight-knit for survival, focused on hunting.

The native people built large communal spaces for the men to meet. It was used for ceremonies, dances, council meetings and where the men and older boys worked, ate and slept.

Individual families lived in smaller sod-insulated houses which were built underground using whale ribs, driftwood or logs and heavily insulated with layers of sod to combat extreme Arctic winds and sub-zero temperatures.

Theo had a field day sniffing the communal houses.

The locals also invested time in building tunnels, heavily disguised, that they could use to escape the village in case of an attack. These tunnels also connected dwellings. They could be 72 to 90 feet long.

Theo trots ahead of us as we try to imagine what life was like back then. The local people fished for whales, seals, and used the blubber to light and heat their homes. They melted water from the frozen rivers around them for drinking water. They used kayaks for traveling. 

We can't resist walking through one of the tunnels to see where it leads. This escape tunnel ended outside the village, near a waterway.

As we're leaving, we pass one more totem pole (which, of course, Theo sniffs). "Remember what we told you about the totem poles."

Theo sighs.

"Well, would you like living out here, Theo, a hundred years ago?"

"Would I have snacks?"

"No, probably not, but there would be plenty of fish."

He nods.

"And, of course, plenty of totem poles to sniff." 

Can Theo Sniff Exit Glacier?

 If you love being outside surrounded by spectacular views, go to Alaska. We visit--Dan, Theo and I--hoping to see wild animals in Denali National Park and whales in Resurrection Bay, hoping to see the top of Mt. McKinley when the clouds part, hoping to see the seals and octopus--in short, a world that's so different from where we live. 

What we don't expect to see is a glacier cascading into the bay. We also don't expect to see another glacier--Exit Glacier--or what is left of it receding into some of the most beautiful country. WE want to serve as witnesses to what some call global warming, others climate change. The once magnificent glacier is disappearing, receding into the distance. It looks closer than it is, and we're reeled in like a fish on a line. 

We want to see this glacier up close. Theo, the gangster cat, can see but can he really see? He would prefer to sniff, which means that even though we can see this glacier from the road, to actually sniff it means hiking the trail. 

You may wonder why glacial ice is blue when water is clear or white looking.  It has to do with light and the compression of snow and ice. The deeper the glacial ice, the less air which deflects the light so the ice appears blue. But Theo doesn't care about that. 

Our first glimpse of the glacier is from the road. 

Then with snow-capped mountains in the distance and a river roaring next to us, we decide to hike the path. There are actually three trails--the easiest to the most difficult, ranging from one mile to 8 miles. Markers along the trail show how much the glacier has retreated during the last century. From 1917 to 1987 the glacier has retreated one mile and currently is losing about 300 feet a year. 

We choose the two mile trail, not knowing exactly where we'll end up but hoping it takes us close to the glacier. We walk through the woods, on wood chips which partially cover the trail, over rocks and boulders, across a stream (where we almost fall in as we leap across), getting closer and closer believing the trail will take us where we want to be. We emerge into a clearing, our feet wet from the stream, with bits and pieces of leaves and twigs in our hair. Dan braves the rest of the way down and snaps a photo.

We see the glacier but learn (after consulting some professional hikers) that to get close enough to sniff the glacier means we have to go back to the beginning and take the longer eight mile trail.

I'm no Math genius but that means two miles back, eight miles forward and eight miles back. 

I look at Dan and he looks at me. We both look at Theo who is craning his neck to see the glacier, still hoping we have further to walk but the river is in front of us and there's nowhere else to go but back. 

"We know you're disappointed," I tell Theo, "but seriously, we need to go back and eat lunch."

I can see the "but" forming on his gangster face. 

"It would mean hiking another eighteen miles, Theo."

It's a beautiful day. The scenery is stunning, and we did manage to get closer to the glacier. 

"I packed you a terrific lunch," I add. 

If Theo has a bucket list and sniffing the Exit Glacier is on it, he gives up his dream and nods. Hiking or eating? Tuna. And like a real trooper he begins the two mile trek back to the food. 

Theo--Love Struck by Octopus

 The SeaLife Center in Seward, Alaska, located on Resurrection Bay is special for a lot of reasons. It's literally home to hundreds of fish. You can watch them and in some places literally touch them. It is also the home to a giant Pacific octopus. 

When we visit with Theo, the gangster cat, we don't know the story of Oceana, the giant octopus that lives in a tank on the premises. But to see her is to fall in love with her. One of the staff tell us that she has a steady visitor (fan) who comes to see her everyday. Remarkably, as soon as he arrives, she knows who he is and she puts on quite a show. 

We stand in front of her awestruck. She is beautiful and graceful and so full of life. She twirls and floats and dances in her tank. As she moves from the top to the bottom, she changes color from a pinkish orange to white. Octopus are highly intelligent and sensitive creatures.

Usually Theo has a bit of a short attention span unless he's watching a bird or a squirrel. Then he's all eyes, stalker still. As soon as he spots Oceana floating by in her tank, he wants to get closer. We watch as he puts his paw on the tank, trying to reach out and touch her. Maybe Theo is in love with an octopus.

"She needs to be in the water", we explain. 

We learn that she was brought to SeaLife Center as a baby when she weighed only 1.5 pounds. Later in the summer she'll be released back into the bay--Resurrection Bay--into a safe spot because she's now fully grown and the good folks at SeaLife want to give her a chance to mate and have a baby. Octopuses can only have one litter so the timing is everything.

We stand in front of her tank for at least a half an hour, watching her. It is a unique experience--to see her so close up. The people at Sea-Life call her an ambassador of good will--hoping that in the real world, you just might act to protect her in the wild.

Oceana looks happy in her tank. She's well fed and healthy. 

"This is a special moment," I say to Theo. "Take time to appreciate that this is a once in a lifetime chance to see an octopus so close up."

Later, I watch a video on You Tube. Oceana is being released into the bay. She's in a large container that two SeaLife workers lower down into the water. She doesn't swim away right away. The men reach down and pet her, gently coaxing her into her new home--Resurrection Bay. 

https://youtu.be/q6an40yxe1M?si=qE4O2XiE9Io_c9Vz

And, of course, a new octopus is now in the SeaLife tank. She or he will stay for a while--serve as ambassadors--and then return back into the bay.

Life is good. 

 

Theo Visits Alaska's SeaLife Center

 It is the visit of a lifetime. At first Theo is not convinced. He loves birds and squirrels. He tolerates whales. But fish? Oh sure, he'll eat fish--tuna and salmon are his favorites--but watching them swim around in a tank? 

But, wait, we're getting ahead of ourselves. Alaska's SeaLife Center in Seward, Alaska, comes highly recommended, and unless you want to spend days and weeks snorkeling in Alaska's vast bodies of water--you'll never get a chance to see--and I mean really see--some mind-blowing specimens of fish. All kind of fish. (www.alaskasealife.org)

The SeaLife Center is located square in the middle of some beautiful, breathtaking scenery that is so Alaska--the mist, clouds and sheer expansiveness of the place sets the stage for what is inside. 

We pass an amazing monument that provides just a glimpse of what is in store when you visit the ocean:

Once inside, we don't know where to go first. You can watch the seals swim in their super gigantic tank--from above and from below.

You can visit smaller tanks that house all kinds of fish--leaning toward the exotic--fish you have never seen before or even heard of.

These tanks represent just a small area of what lives underneath the ocean. The colors. The variety of fish.

 

I particularly love the starfish. Especially when you see them living in concert together. Hanging out. The good life.

And where is Theo during all of this time as we wander from tank to tank? I can feel him stalking beside me, but he's not satisfied to watch the fish from his lowly spot. I lift him up to give him what I would call a Birds Eye view. 

I'm not sure what he actually sees. But his gaze doesn't falter. He's truly mesmerized--watching the fish swim back and forth. 

I point to one tank in particular. "Do you see what looks like a rock with those pink spots?"

I think he nods or maybe he's stretching.

"Well, that's not a rock, Theo. That's a fish. Believe it or not."

He's a little impressed. At first I think he's spending the most time staring at the starfish. But they barely move. They float through the water. But then I realize he's not particular. 

Can it be true that Theo likes all fish? To eat???