The very last of the few - Wegenercom

froze. Its yellow-white fur blended perfectly with the
snowy surroundings.
When it was only 40 meters away, I whispered: – Do
you think this might be the bear that we are going to
collect for the Natural Museum in Oslo? (We had a
license to shoot a bear for this purpose.)
– Yeahh...
The bear approached. At twenty meters’ distance,
it lowered its front end and the muscles tightened.
I reiterated my question: – Is this the candidate?
– Yes!
Alas, shining white fur totally filled my rifle scope.
In stead I was forced to sight down along the rifle barrel.
At the distance, this was no problem, and now the bear
is displayed in a glass cabinet in Oslo!
The great freedom
The carefree feeling that I experienced in my Greenland
youth is long gone. In those days there were no closed
seasons and even fewer financial worries in a modest
way of life. But no progress without costs.
In many Greenland communities the snow scooter is
slowly driving the dog sled into oblivion, and speed-
40
boats take over from kayaks. The population is steadily
increasing and so is the standard of living. The hunters
acquire ever more efficient firearms.
GPS wayfinders and radios have increased mobil-
ity, and at the same time the prices on the hunters’
products keep dropping. The consequences are
predictable: The hunting pressure increases, wildlife
biologists will issue warnings, off seasons are
prolonged, reservations are established, and game
wardens are employed.
Personally I have never been able to see any difference
between the interests of the biologists and those of
the hunters. Quite the contrary. We are all pulling the
same sledge.
Be familiar with the natural resources of an area and
leave the rest to a responsible wildlife management. In
that respect, the Inuit hunters welcome tourist hunters.
They love to take visitors out for an Arctic adventure.
Out where the Pole Star is twinkling. Where dreams
are still alive, and where the great freedom can still be
experienced.