by Chris Senior and Denise Taylor 

More pictures from Bulgaria

In the event of being attacked by a bear …

In case of bear attack, there are two things which you should not do. Firstly, don’t run away, as the bear can outrun you (although there is a certain, cynical view that if you are with others, you only have to run faster than your companions!). Secondly, climbing a tree is also not a good idea, as some bears can also climb. What you should do, depending on the species of bear, is to either curl up on the ground, so that the bear will hopefully ignore you (and if not, you are helping to protect your internal organs), or make yourself look big and fierce, arms outstretched kind of thing, making some noise, and bear will be suitably impressed, leaving you alone.

The smallish European bear currently exploring its new home in front of me, an enclosure with high chain-link fence and an inner, electric fence, was, apparently, of the type where you should make yourself look large and threatening, if approached. As a bear-sized gap had just been discovered at one point under the bottom wire of the electric fence, allowing it to get right up to the chain-link, these were my instructions, if the bear should come close, in order to keep it away whilst suitable materials were found to reinforce this section of fence. I was hopeful that the bear’s exploring would somehow overlook this section, but, of course, it came to investigate, so I made my best attempt at deterring the bear, following this sage knowledge. Whilst the advice may be true for the species in general, this particular bear saw my actions as a direct challenge, and, in a rather more convincing mimic of my actions, threw itself at the fence, skilfully missing the electric wire and coming up against the chain-link right in front of me, causing the fence to flex alarmingly, and freezing me to the spot, my entire world consisting of this rearing, and not very happy, bear, staring me straight in the eyes with a look of pure anger … 

Signs and Portents 

I’d come to Bulgaria as the fledgling Large Carnivore Education Centre had received a large grant from the Darwin Initiative in the UK (which is a DEFRA project). An excuse to travel, and meet their own resident captive wolf sounded too good to miss, and I was travelling with two other people with similar interests: Denise Taylor, responsible for raising the money for the project, in addition to being Wolf Print’s editor, and Alex Hampson, environmental educator, bush-craft expert and didgeridoo player (or pretty much any section of tube or pipe he can find). We’d even been lucky enough to see a fox in the pre-dawn light near the airport, before we even left the country, and felt this boded well for an interesting trip. Little did we know just how interesting it was to get.

A long and very comfortable bus ride from the capital Sofia to Kresna, in the Pirin Mountains of south western Bulgaria, meant that we were all soundly asleep on arrival, and it was only thanks to our kindly driver that we didn’t end up wherever the route terminated (Elena Tsingarska, project leader, later told us this would have been Greece – a prospect which made us shudder as we’d already had problems with border control and Alex’s passport!). As an ex-communist country, there are still numerous Ladas crawling along the roads, and a lot of labour-intensive agriculture in the fields. Newer Volkswagens and Audis also point to an economy which is prospering, at least in some areas. The farms of the mountain regions have, however, suffered; firstly under the communist regime, where large collective farms replaced smaller family ones, and then the collapse of communism meaning that there was little money for rural infrastructure: The village that was our final destination is now devoid of younger people, and this project may provide a future for this one community at least.

A quick drink with our host, Elena, turned into a meal, and then a night out, when we were joined by her partner, Sider Sedefchev, and their son, Hanko, as their wolf research, construction of an education centre, and farming of sheep and goats leave little time for recreation. A warm spring night, friendly company, and some Bulgarian beer meant that we were all relaxed for the drive back up to Vlahi in the mountains, in the dark, along a road of varying quality and width: This proved much less stressful than subsequent trips sober and in daylight. 

Live wolves and dead dogs 

Next morning revealed a beautiful, tiny village, nestling in the foothills of the mountains, parts of which are designated as a 
National Park. Work was already underway, with the sheep and goats being taken out to graze for the day by shepherds, accompanied by Karakachan livestock guarding dogs, specially bred for a temperament that can turn from placid to ferocious in a second, if the herd or flock is threatened. The sound (and smell) of animals accompanied breakfast, and then, the three of us went to visit Vucho, a three year old male ambassador wolf, in his enclosure. I was initially met with growling, partly as a stranger, and partly because Mrs. Vucho (his unnamed mate) was pregnant: This animosity resolved itself over the next few days, until scratching of his shoulders seemed to be expected whenever I approached the enclosure, even in preference to the food I brought for him on one occasion. His mate was more elusive, and could only be glimpsed briefly on occasions.

We lost Alex up here, and he returned later having spent several hours near a small pond, taking some amazing photos of insects and reptiles which had revealed themselves, once convinced that he was just part of the scenery. In the meantime, our trip down to town for supplies had resulted in an unexpected stop for a dead dog, which had been hit by a car within the last hour. Elena proceeded to take a tissue sample, in order to increase data gathered on wild wolves, feral dogs and hybrids. Perfectly normal scientific research, but a little disconcerting to see someone calmly stopping the vehicle for this, when you’re not used to it. Then back up the hill, making the routine stop part way to allow the ageing Mercedes van to cool off. A great first day, with a communal evening meal allowing us the chance to chat and pass cameras round to squint at tiny images on their view-screens, comparing photos. There was to be an early (for us) start tomorrow, if we wanted, as there was room for two of us to accompany Elena when she went out to do her daily checking of the traps, set to safely catch a wild wolf in order to radio-collar it, as these data allow mapping of territories and habitat preferences. 



A surprise in the woods 

Well, I’d not expected to make it up at 6am, but as Alex got up, I decided I’d also tag along, aided by the wonderfully strong coffee which is drunk there. So, half asleep, we bounced up another small track in an ageing 4x4, with the sun rising behind the peaks ahead of us offering some compensation for the early start. Elena does this every day, whatever the weather, during the period when the traps are laid, and it is a year since she last found a wolf in her traps. She cannot miss even a single day, in case some animal is in there. Enjoying the mountains bouncing past my window, we rounded a bend and stooped short. An animal in the trap! At first glance, I thought it may be a wild boar (also residents of these mountains); Alex suspected a deer. Elena just exclaimed “Wolf” and reversed the vehicle back around the bend, out of sight, to prevent stressing the animal further whilst she prepared to tranquilise it with a needle shot from a blowpipe. The chemical used merely immobilises the animal, but it remains conscious, so a blindfold is used to help keep stress levels down, and conversation reduced to necessary whispers only.

I couldn’t believe I’d almost stayed in bed, and now here I was face to face with my first wild wolf. It took myself and Alex to hold the limp but muscular body whilst Elena removed the trap. It looked barbaric at first, but closer inspection of the trap revealed modified jaws with thick rubber, so as not to cause more than superficial injury to the leg. The blindfolded animal, a young female (later named Nanuk) was then speedily fitted with a stylish new radio-collar, and various measurements taken, along with a tissue sample. Various scars revealed a wolf which has suffered at the jaws of other wolves. Once all was completed, the blindfold was removed and a twitch showed that Nanuk would soon be moving again, at which point she staggered down the slope beside the track, and we observed a healthy wolf give us a rather resentful look, before sitting to let the drug fully wear off. Although this whole process is obviously not without stress for the animal, the data it will provide are of immense use for the project, and the welfare of the animal was of prime concern throughout the entire procedure. On a personal note, it was fantastic to see a wild wolf up close, and I’d never expected to see one as anything more than a distant movement through a scope.

We returned to a village now basking in the warmth of spring sunshine, all amazed at our luck. No time to rest on our laurels, as there was plenty still to do. The enclosure for the rescued dancing bear was still being finished, and in two days, he would be collected from the zoo in Sofia, three hours away, where they had been looking after him for a year. The tall chain-link was secured to posts bolted into a solid concrete base, with steel cables reinforcing it, and the inner electric fence still awaited a battery and solar-charger. Some concerns had been expressed about the strength of the fence, but it was all securely fitted, and I was confident in it, having checked around its perimeter, little knowing what lay ahead. It would be an improvement over the bear’s home in the zoo, which was of old-school Soviet construction, mainly concrete, and infinitely better than its life as a dancing bear, and had a lovely mountain backdrop (if bears appreciate views at all).

I went back out into the hills with Elena after this, in order to see if the receiver was picking up the signal for Nanuk, and to determine that the wolf had moved from where we had left it, and was therefore healthy. All was fine, and our new test-subject was busily transmitting data. Much to talk about that evening, and more staring at tiny images, and recapping on our luck from the morning. 

Walkies! 

How to follow a day like that? Well, a walk in the hills with Vucho was our treat for the next day. Also a treat for Vucho himself, as this was the first time he’d been taken out since February. He was accompanied by Elena, the three of us, and Nina Kirova, Elena’s assistant and student biologist. Under intense blue skies, we strolled in the foothills, with myself and Alex at the front, as Vucho was trying to dominate us! Walking with the sound of an enthusiastic wolf panting behind you is a novel experience, and by the end of the walk, Vucho and I seemed to be on an equal footing, whilst Alex had made the (fully understandable) mistake of stepping back at one point, when faced with a snarling wolf whose jaws were aimed at certain parts of his anatomy he wished to protect. Vucho now considered himself to be the dominant one, and became even more focused on demonstrating this.

We stopped on the way back for a quick howl. Well, Elena and Nina howled, accompanied by Vucho, while the rest of us watched and listened. We were rewarded with an answering howl. Another wild wolf out there, and another first for me. Vucho seemed nonplussed by this, but happy to have had a stroll. Who could blame him in such perfect weather.

Alex and I helped out a little in the afternoon, moving some sections of fencing up to the bear enclosure. Before Medo (the bear) moved in, the pool in there was to be used to dip the sheep and goats, and we were making a temporary corral. A warm afternoon, and the uphill walk, carrying one section between the two of us, helped to make us realise that life up here is not easy, especially when one of the shepherds (who works as a ranger when not herding sheep or building corrals), Todor, trotted past us, a single section on his back. 


Later, Alex rehearsed for his party-piece; making fire with a bow-drill. This friction-method looks easy, but is actually quite difficult, and making the necessary pieces takes some time. Watched by myself and Hanko, he succeeded in creating glowing tinder. His full evening performance looked even more spectacular, as darkness showed off the glow and the flames slowly being coaxed to life. He was offered a cigarette lighter (this, apparently, always happens!), and the general consensus amongst the remainder of the audience seemed to be that it was a lot of hassle when a match could do the same job: Why make life harder? 

Meeting an old friend for lunch 

Another early start next day allowed Alex and myself to accompany Nina for some rather more extensive radio-tracking of Nanuk. It is a fairly simple matter of getting two or more readings from different points, these bearings crossing at the point the wolf is located. Of course, this point is more likely to be a circle, as the wolf will be moving whilst we are getting to the different locations, but it is still a useful way of determining where the pack is, the multiple readings over time giving an idea of territory and frequency of visiting certain parts of it. What this means for the wolf biologist (and us wannabe-biologists too!) is finding a high spot with good coverage into valleys and turning the aerial on the portable receiver whilst listening for where the beeps are loudest. This bearing is then taken, using a GPS (global positioning system) unit which can be linked to computer maps. Then, off to another location to repeat, enjoying the quiet of the woods and views of the mountains. 

Meantime, Denise and Elena had gone to pick up Medo from Sofia Zoo, the specialist equipment consisting of … a van, but at least one with a huge photo of a bear on the side.

On our return to base, I was hanging around when Nina asked if I would like to feed Vucho. After the briefest of pauses (and that only because I am a vegetarian, and wolves are not), I agreed, and took a bucket of food up to his enclosure. This consisted of pig, not a favourite of his, but there had been no road-kill for a while, so he would have to make do. Finding a good rock from which to throw the food in, I launched a pig’s trotter into the enclosure, which Vucho treated with indifference. Possibly the choice of menu, and also the fact that I’d not gone to say hello first. I was rather touched that Vucho seemed to prefer a rub on the shoulders to a feed, even using the same hand that I’d handled the meat with. After that, he paraded round proudly with the various pig parts, affording me the chance to get some good photographs. Alex joined us, a little wary still, but Vucho was in a magnanimous mood, and the two of them made up for the previous day’s conduct. 

A new arrival in the village 

Meantime, the final preparations were being made for the arrival of Medo. The transportation cage had been transferred from the van to a truck for the journey up the hill to the enclosure, using nothing more than creative thinking, brute force and some long poles of wood - forward-planning Bulgarian style! Unloading the cage into the enclosure followed a similar methodology, and once it was safely inside, there was the small matter of how to open the sliding front-panel, thus releasing the bear. This had now become something of a spectator sport for ourselves, the shepherds and the guys with the truck, and we watched as a basic A-frame was constructed using a log that was strategically placed at the top of the fence, and a rope thrown over it and attached to the panel. With the electric fence across the gate secured, and the main gate shut, the rope was pulled up to release the bear. Heath Robinson would have been proud, and so were we, when Medo was finally able to emerge, seeming to me to grow considerably in size as he emerged from the confines of the cage.

Medo was now free to explore his new home, taking in the stream-fed pool, selection of bushes and trees and (possibly) the scenic mountain backdrop too. We all watched, while Elena and her team contrived to get Medo into the holding pen inside his enclosure, so that the cage could be retrieved. At this point, the shepherds returned from the pastures with their flocks, and the Karakachan dogs, spotting a new predator on their territory, came over to bark furiously, just as they are supposed to do. It sounded quite fearsome, and I don’t doubt that this breed is extremely effective in keeping predators away from the livestock. Although, that said, I did find myself with a dog hiding behind my legs at one point, this obviously being a little larger than anything it had dealt with before!

Eventually, the dogs stopped clamouring, all apart from one which came and stood near me, not at all happy about this new interloper. I’d been strolling about taking photos from all angles, but noticed now that everyone else had disappeared, apart from Alex, who was beckoning me over. Assuming that the plan was to leave Medo alone to settle in, I made my way round, to find that he had been appointed to guard a certain small gap in the electric fence, and was relieved to find me also still there, as he needed to answer nature’s call. Giving me my instructions about looking menacing and large, should it come near the gap, he departed leaving me alone with Medo.

… and so it was that I found myself confronted with an angry bear, rearing up, and again seeming much larger than it had before, as it towered over me against the chain-link fence. Frozen as I was, briefly, my senses were overloaded with the sight of bear directly in front of me. There was noise too; people who were not even close by told me afterwards that there was noise, but I don’t remember that at all. Just the sight. And calculating that if the bear got in another two or three good charges at the chain-link, it would probably succeed in getting through, and then it would be just me and it.

Alex, to his credit, reappeared when I shouted, rather than going in the opposite direction (remember, he only needed to out-run me, not the bear!), followed by my new best friend, the still-barking dog. The three of us, combined with Medo then making contact with the electric fence, suddenly seemed to change his mind about tonight’s menu. My fears about the fence were probably justified, though, as in attempting to reinforce the chain-link with some steel bar, pushing it through the eyelets holding the cable popped one of them right off - presumably weakened by the bear’s charge. There followed the almost obligatory humour-in-the-face-of-adversity bit, with me composing a letter out loud: “Dear Electric Fence Company”, it began, “I have a complaint to make … I’m currently dead”.

The evening was spent staring at small screens again, looking at some video of Medo in the zoo, and much discussion of the days events. I also vetoed mention of a documentary film concerning a couple who lived with bears in the USA, ending up being eaten by them. Just a bit too close for comfort, that particular night. 

An end to adventures … 

And so, that was our adventure in the Pirin Mountains. Stunning scenery, friendly wolves, wild wolves, an absolutely furious bear, and some new friends made. Next day, we would go home, and it would seem so tame after this. Well, apart from getting stopped by armed police in Sofia for having a paper licence plate on the back of the car, but that’s another story. And Vucho’s new family of pups, due to be born the day I sit here writing this. Maybe I’ll be going back again soon, but if so, I won’t be standing before the bear enclosure looking big and fierce, whatever I’m told. 


More Information about the Large Carnivore Education Centre in Bulgaria........