CHUKOTKA 67°50’22.6”N 175°52’01.5”W
“We scrambled as fast as we could to find spare planks, nails, hammers—any- thing we could use to barricade the doorway.”
It wasn’t long before the cabin was surrounded. Periods of vociferous distress subsided into periods of relative tranquility, during which you could hear individual walrus gently snoring. Their heads pressed against the same wall as ours, only the thickness of an old rickety wooden plank separating our two worlds. As I lay awake, I imagined what it must be like for them to haul themselves out onto a crowded beach in total darkness. Were they panicking in case they couldn’t find a place to rest? What physical state were they in? How would a mother ever keep track of her calf among the crowd? Do they take comfort in being packed so tightly together or is it pure necessity? How many were being fatally crushed, too weak to fight back? What do their vocalisations mean? What sort of information is being transferred? While pondering these questions and many more, I heard Anatoly get up and open the door. He was gone a few minutes before returning to wake up Maxim, and the two of them left. Then bang, bang, bang! Bang, bang, bang! We got up to see what was going on. The outer part of the cabin, where all our food and camera equipment was stored, was at risk of being invaded. The walrus had inadvertently pushed over the fuel drum that was blocking the open doorway, and now there was nothing stopping them from clambering inside. We scrambled as fast as we could to find spare planks, nails, hammers—anything we could use to barricade the doorway. While doing so, I caught my first glimpse of a walrus up close, mere centimetres away. Such impressive beasts. With their intimidating size, I was thankful for the cabin walls holding them at bay. We managed to block off the doorway and went back to our sleeping quarters to get what rest we could. The minute the sun graced us with its presence, we were up, buzzing at the thought of being able to finally see the walrus. How many were there? Did they fill the beach? What do they look like up close? When the moment came, it was as formidable as it was shocking. Anatoly opened the door and we were met with a wall of walrus less than half a metre away. He shut it again quickly, so as not to cause any disturbance or alarm. This moment was everything we had been waiting for. We were literally at the epicentre of the largest gathering of walrus on the planet, and they had no idea we were there. It was the most intimate of experiences pressing my face up against the wooden slats with a walrus sleeping on the other side. We had a privileged window into their world, being among them at their most vulnerable of times. It was, without a doubt, the most incredible wildlife experience I’ve ever and probably will ever have. And yet, I’ve never felt so guilty and remorseful. This is not a natural gathering, not one made by choice. It’s a modern phenomenon brought about by global warming. Yes, walrus have historically come ashore to rest as part of their natural migration move- ments, but the frequency and scale with which they do so now is unprecedented.
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Squirrel monkey, Costa Rica
MOTHER VOLUME THREE
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