Kvitoya, Northeastern Svalbard
Well, folks, this could be one for the record books: the DER has practically written itself and the day is only a few hours old. It’s around 2:00am here in the open stretch of water between Nordaustlandet and Kvitoya, and the groggy guests, staff, and crew are all stumbling out of their respective sleeping quarters to witness this spectacle before you now. Sure, it’s a “bear with a kill,” as we say here on board, and at first glance that’s what everyone notices. But once we really start surveying the scene, we soon realize there’s much more to the story.
First, we see that this is no ordinary kill, for it’s actually larger than the bear. Therefore, it can’t be just a simple ring or harp seal. No, not even a pinniped at all; it is in fact a young beluga whale. Now, whether the bear managed to kill the whale or not is likely beyond our ability to tell with what little information we can gather at this point. Still, it is a first for us here on the National Geographic Endeavour, and a mystery that has us all trying to solve.
Next, we start to see that this bear is actually looking a little lean for someone who’s just hit the midnight buffet line. And the reason for that is actually not pictured; for spread out on the ice in various digestion-aiding positions are not one, not two, not even three, but SEVEN other bears all trying to simply get comfortable after putting away the bulk of the whale’s fat and meat. (They must feel a little like I do after two or three passes at the Thanksgiving table.) That’s EIGHT bears in one spot! This poor guy must have shown up late, and is quite literally left with the scraps.
Still, he’s probably happy with this free meal, but not so distracted by it that he doesn’t just ignore us looming over the top of his dinner plate. In fact, he takes a break between courses to check out the big blue and white iceberg that keeps inching closer to the front door of this Arctic café.
He checks out the funny shapes on top, gazing with a bit of curious bewilderment at the commotion and clicking noises that mix with our excited whispers. He doesn’t stop there, however, for he then goes on to take a look (and a sniff or two) at the ship itself; walking up to the hull in a couple of spots before wandering back to peer into the portholes in order to maybe figure out just what this unusual visitor might be.
In the end, however, the bear’s stomach dictates its actions, and it happily goes back to feed amongst the scavenging Glaucous and Ivory Gulls. In the meantime, we try to slip into bed (again!) as the ship eases back on course for Svalbard’s most northeasterly point, the icecap dominated little island of Kvitoya. Of course, it’s going to be a little difficult to sleep after all this excitement. Then again, we aren’t here in the land of the midnight sun for sleep, now, are we?
Well, folks, this could be one for the record books: the DER has practically written itself and the day is only a few hours old. It’s around 2:00am here in the open stretch of water between Nordaustlandet and Kvitoya, and the groggy guests, staff, and crew are all stumbling out of their respective sleeping quarters to witness this spectacle before you now. Sure, it’s a “bear with a kill,” as we say here on board, and at first glance that’s what everyone notices. But once we really start surveying the scene, we soon realize there’s much more to the story.
First, we see that this is no ordinary kill, for it’s actually larger than the bear. Therefore, it can’t be just a simple ring or harp seal. No, not even a pinniped at all; it is in fact a young beluga whale. Now, whether the bear managed to kill the whale or not is likely beyond our ability to tell with what little information we can gather at this point. Still, it is a first for us here on the National Geographic Endeavour, and a mystery that has us all trying to solve.
Next, we start to see that this bear is actually looking a little lean for someone who’s just hit the midnight buffet line. And the reason for that is actually not pictured; for spread out on the ice in various digestion-aiding positions are not one, not two, not even three, but SEVEN other bears all trying to simply get comfortable after putting away the bulk of the whale’s fat and meat. (They must feel a little like I do after two or three passes at the Thanksgiving table.) That’s EIGHT bears in one spot! This poor guy must have shown up late, and is quite literally left with the scraps.
Still, he’s probably happy with this free meal, but not so distracted by it that he doesn’t just ignore us looming over the top of his dinner plate. In fact, he takes a break between courses to check out the big blue and white iceberg that keeps inching closer to the front door of this Arctic café.
He checks out the funny shapes on top, gazing with a bit of curious bewilderment at the commotion and clicking noises that mix with our excited whispers. He doesn’t stop there, however, for he then goes on to take a look (and a sniff or two) at the ship itself; walking up to the hull in a couple of spots before wandering back to peer into the portholes in order to maybe figure out just what this unusual visitor might be.
In the end, however, the bear’s stomach dictates its actions, and it happily goes back to feed amongst the scavenging Glaucous and Ivory Gulls. In the meantime, we try to slip into bed (again!) as the ship eases back on course for Svalbard’s most northeasterly point, the icecap dominated little island of Kvitoya. Of course, it’s going to be a little difficult to sleep after all this excitement. Then again, we aren’t here in the land of the midnight sun for sleep, now, are we?
