查理?羅素：與熊共舞

Commotion1) in the distance catches Charlie Russell’s eye and he squints2) into the sun to make out the shapes of three brown bears. They are heading towards him—fast. Snow explodes around them every time their massive paws hit the ground. But Russell stays put. When they get a metre or so from him， the towering animals slow down to a stroll. The leading bear holds her face very close to Russell’s. She nuzzles his nose with her own and Russell breaks into a smile. “Hey， little bear，” he says.

Here the audience holds its breath. It’s 2010—five years later—and we’re in Whitehorse， Yukon， where a whitehaired Russell stands before a crowded conference room as a documentary about his life， The Edge of Eden， flickers3) behind him. Local citizens have come to get， first-hand， the story of the “Bear Man of Kamchatka4).”

Russell， now 70， earned this title after he relocated to the easternmost part of Russia， built a cabin at the base of a lakeside volcano and spent more than ten springs and summers living with brown bears—the taller， heavier cousin of the North American grizzly5).

“No question， bears are dangerous，” says Russell， but he also argues that demonizing6) them prevents us from recognizing their intelligent， playful and peaceful nature. “They attack us because we abuse them，” he insists， and for the last two years he has travelled across Canada， lecturing in communities where bears are considered a nuisance. “What I want to do now is work on the human side of the problem，” Russell says. In a country where cities spread deep into the rural landscape and hunters kill about 450 grizzlies annually， he is determined to change the way we treat our ursine neighbours.

Russell was raised with the idea that “the only good bear is a dead bear.” His father， a hunter and outfitter7)， shared stories of bloodthirsty8) grizzlies with his five children. However， when the family’s hunting business faltered9) in the early 1960s， Russell and his brother joined their father on an expedition to film grizzlies in Alaska. Russell couldn’t help but wonder why bears behaved aggressively towards gun-toters， but left the filmmakers alone10). “I suspected they didn’t like cruelty，” he says.

In 1994 he tested out his theory in British Columbia’s Khutzeymateen Inlet， where he took tourists on bearviewing excursions. One afternoon， while resting on a log between guiding trips， Russell sat still as a female grizzly casually approached. “I knew if I did not move， she would keep coming，” he later wrote in his 2002 book Grizzly Heart. “I had decided to let her come as close as she wanted.” Russell spoke to the bear in gentle tones and she sat down beside him. She put her paw on his hand and Russell reciprocated11) the gesture， touching her nose， lip and teeth. These were the iron jaws featured in his father’s campfire stories， now no more threatening than the snout of a puppy. If he could repeat similar moments—and perhaps photograph the encounters—Russell believed he could prove that “just by treating bears kindly， people can live safely with them.”

The place to go was the Kamchatka Peninsula. At 1，200 kilometres long， the area has one of the densest populations of brown bears in the world—as many as 1，200 roam the government-controlled sanctuary12). In 1996 Russell settled next to the pristine13) Kambalnoye Lake with his partner， artist Maureen Enns. With the closest town more than 200 kilometres away， Russell felt the location was remote enough to study the bears without distractions—or poachers14) looking for bear gallbladders15)， a hot commodity in traditional Chinese medicine. “What I wanted，” explains Russell， “was to befriend the bears， to be the only human influence on them.”

Russell and Enns began mingling with the animals immediately， without incident. “I had so many bears around，” he says， “I couldn’t go to the bathroom without an encounter.” The next year， however， things took an interesting turn. He heard about three orphaned cubs at a nearby zoo. The cubs were caged and ate only the popcorn and candy that children tossed to them. Russell and Enns knew the cubs would grow big enough to swipe at people through the bars and therefore be shot. So they bought the cubs from the zoo and helicoptered them to their cabin.

At only six kilograms each， Chico， Biscuit and Rosie were too small to venture off on their own， so Russell housed them behind an electric fence—meant more to keep predators16) out than to keep the young bears in. Experts warned Russell and Enns that the cubs would quickly become aggressive. But in their seven years together， these bears never turned on17) the couple. When the shrubs exploded in berries， Russell took the cubs to forage. When the salmon moved inland， he taught the cubs to fish. It took them a while to get comfortable in the water， but soon the bears were paddling confidently behind Enns in her kayak. The couple was suddenly saddled18) with more cubs when a sow began using them as a babysitting service. “She figured it was safe to drop them off with me while she went hunting，” says Russell. “What a wonderful way to be taken advantage of.”

In the spring of 2003 Russell jumped out of a Russian helicopter onto the foggy Kamchatka tundra19). Anticipating another idyllic summer， he rushed to his cabin with five months’ worth of supplies loaded on his back. But as he flung open the door， he was hit with a stomach-churning stench20). Peering21) into the dark room， he could just make out22) the shape of a rotten gallbladder nailed to the wall. Poachers had killed every one of his bears.

Heartbroken， Russell (who had since been joined by Enns) fled to the familial comfort of Alberta. “It was a huge shock，” says Dick， Russell’s elder brother. “It’s like having your kids killed.” But less than a year after the massacre23)， Russell felt the pull of Kamchatka. So when he got a call from Canadian filmmakers Jeff and Sue Turner asking him to participate in a film about his years studying bears in Russia， he couldn’t turn them down.

But Enns did. “She said， ‘I’m not going to have any part of it，’” recalls Russell. “She was smart. God， it was hell going back there.” After four gruelling24) years of filming， Russell left Russia for good25) in 2007—but he wouldn’t leave defeated. He had footage of the extraordinary creatures he’d come to know: creatures who nuzzled noses with him after a long winter apart and who galloped beside him on his walks.

Russell knows stories like his are rarely heard. When bear attacks happen， news stories can sensationalize26) the danger. But the numbers don’t match the hype27). Canada is home to about 380，000 black bears and 26，000 grizzlies， and in the past decade fewer than 15 people have been mauled to death. Poor treatment causes bears to turn violent， says Russell， who points to conservation officers’ dealings with bears as an example. A bear that continuously comes too close to humans will be shot at with noisemakers28)， rubber bullets or tranquilizers29). Many are captured and released， which can be frightening for the bear， argues Russell. During what is called a “hard release，” the bear is bombarded with loud noises as it leaves the trap and heads into the forest. Dogs bark and snap at the fleeing animal. The message: Don’t come back.

“But see it from the bear’s perspective，” says Russell. “You can’t spend all day running from things and not be stressed. We make them dangerous.” To prevent bears from becoming nuisances， Russell says， the public needs to keep garbage in bear-proof bins， and parks’ staff should avoid haranguing30) the animals. “Bears can feel respect and they learn respect.”

But getting respect from ranchers is more easily said than done. When bears wake from their six-month hibernation31)， they’re looking for one thing: a meal—and fast. They search for weak or dead cattle on nearby ranches and often come up against angry， armed ranchers.

After years of observing deadly runins， Russell took action. He trucked dead cattle from his Alberta ranch to a nearby area just outside the bears’ winter homes. If they had easy access to bounty32)， he reasoned， they wouldn’t need to sniff around the ranches. The plan worked and bear-rancher encounters decreased. Russell even began adding his neighbours’ deceased cattle to the pile. He is happy that Alberta’s Sustainable Resource Development Ministry has since developed its own successful feeding program using roadkill. It’s not unusual to see department staff fly out to the dens each year， moose and deer carcasses swinging in the helicopter’s sling.

At the end of the night， copies of Grizzly Heart and the film sell out. The high sales indicate to Russell that the public is receptive to his message. If only one rancher changes his habits because of his talk， the years in Kamchatka will have been worth it. “I hope I’ve helped them see these are not the horrible animals they’ve been told about，” says Russell. “Bears give us what we give them. Give them violence， we get violence back. But give them kindness and we get kindness.”

遠(yuǎn)處一陣嘈雜的腳步聲吸引了查理·羅素的目光，他迎著陽(yáng)光，瞇縫起眼睛，向前望去，看見三只棕熊的身影。這三只熊正以迅疾的速度向他奔來(lái)，巨大的熊掌拍打著地面，每一步都激得地上的積雪四處飛濺。但羅素依然一動(dòng)不動(dòng)。在離他一米開外的地方，棕熊高大的身軀慢了下來(lái)，緩緩向他走來(lái)。為首的棕熊將臉貼近羅素的臉，用鼻子摩挲著羅素的鼻子，羅素對(duì)著她微微一笑，說(shuō)：“你好，小熊！”

觀眾屏住了呼吸。這時(shí)已是五年之后的2010年(編注：本文刊發(fā)于2010年)，我們正身處加拿大育空地區(qū)的懷特霍斯市。在這里，滿頭白發(fā)的羅素正站在一間座無(wú)虛席的會(huì)議室里，身后的大屏幕上正播放著一部關(guān)于他生平的紀(jì)錄片——《伊甸園的邊緣》。當(dāng)?shù)鼐用窦娂娗皝?lái)，想親眼目睹這位“堪察加半島熊人”的傳奇經(jīng)歷。

現(xiàn)年70歲的羅素在多年以前曾重返俄羅斯最東部，在臨湖的一座火山腳下搭起了一間小木屋，和棕熊一起度過(guò)了十余個(gè)春秋，由此贏得了“堪察加半島熊人”的稱號(hào)。這些棕熊是北美灰熊的近親，但它們比灰熊更高、更重。

“毫無(wú)疑問(wèn)，熊是危險(xiǎn)的動(dòng)物。”羅素說(shuō)，但他同時(shí)也認(rèn)為不能將熊妖魔化，那樣會(huì)使我們看不到熊的另一面：聰明、頑皮、平和?！八鼈児粑覀?，是因?yàn)槲覀兠胺噶怂鼈??！绷_素強(qiáng)調(diào)說(shuō)。在過(guò)去兩年多時(shí)間里，羅素走遍了加拿大，在社區(qū)給討厭熊的人們做演講。他說(shuō)：“我現(xiàn)在想要做的，是從人類這方面入手解決人與熊的緊張關(guān)系。”在加拿大，城市的擴(kuò)展占據(jù)了大片的農(nóng)村地帶，獵人們每年獵殺的灰熊都在450頭左右，羅素決心要改變?nèi)藗儗?duì)待自己的近鄰——熊——的方式。

羅素從小就被灌輸“只有死熊才是好熊”的觀念。他的父親是一位獵人和野營(yíng)用品供應(yīng)商，經(jīng)常給五個(gè)子女講述灰熊吃人的故事。然而，20世紀(jì)60年代初期，他們家的打獵營(yíng)生開始走下坡路，羅素便和他的哥哥一起隨父親長(zhǎng)途跋涉，深入阿拉斯加，拍攝灰熊活動(dòng)的影片。令羅素困惑不解的是，為什么灰熊只攻擊扛槍的人，卻放過(guò)攝影者。“我想它們也許不喜歡殘暴吧。”他說(shuō)。

1994年，在加拿大不列顛哥倫比亞省的庫(kù)西姆阿丁灰熊保護(hù)區(qū)峽灣，他經(jīng)常帶領(lǐng)游客參觀熊，從而有機(jī)會(huì)驗(yàn)證了他的這一猜想。一天下午，在導(dǎo)游的間隙，他坐在一根圓木上休息。這時(shí)，一頭母熊漫不經(jīng)心地向他走來(lái)，羅素仍然坐著一動(dòng)不動(dòng)。“我知道如果我不動(dòng)，她會(huì)繼續(xù)向我這里走，”他后來(lái)在他2002年出版的《灰熊的心》一書中寫道，“我決定讓她盡可能地靠近我。”羅素語(yǔ)氣輕柔地和那頭灰熊說(shuō)著話，她竟在他身邊坐了下來(lái)?；倚軐⒁恢恍苷品旁诹_素的手上，羅素也報(bào)之以相同的舉動(dòng)，輕輕觸摸她的鼻子、嘴唇和牙齒。在他父親圍坐在篝火旁講述的故事中，這樣的熊掌可都是鋼鐵利爪啊，可現(xiàn)在卻和小狗的鼻子一樣沒(méi)有任何威脅。如果再次發(fā)生類似的經(jīng)歷——也許再加上拍照佐證——羅素認(rèn)為他可以證實(shí)“只要善待熊，人們就可以與它們安全共處”。

研究熊的理想去處是堪察加半島。這個(gè)半島長(zhǎng)達(dá)1200公里，是世界上棕熊數(shù)量最為密集的地區(qū)之一——多達(dá)1200頭棕熊徜徉在政府控制的保護(hù)區(qū)里。1996年，羅素和他身為藝術(shù)家的伴侶莫琳·安思一起，在依然保持著原生狀態(tài)的卡姆巴爾諾耶湖畔定居下來(lái)。離他們最近的城鎮(zhèn)也在兩百公里開外，羅素覺(jué)得在這樣偏遠(yuǎn)的地方應(yīng)該可以心無(wú)旁騖地研究熊了，應(yīng)該也不會(huì)有偷獵者來(lái)偷取熊膽了(熊膽是傳統(tǒng)中藥中的一味熱門藥材)。羅素解釋說(shuō)：“我想要做的，就是與熊做朋友，成為這個(gè)地方唯一能夠?qū)λ麄儺a(chǎn)生影響的人類成員?！?/p>

羅素和安思很快就深入到動(dòng)物中間，而且與它們相處和諧?！拔疑磉叺教幎际切埽彼f(shuō)，“甚至每次去衛(wèi)生間時(shí)都能遇到熊?！比欢诙辏闆r發(fā)生了有趣的變化。羅素聽說(shuō)附近一個(gè)動(dòng)物園里有三只失去父母的小熊，它們被關(guān)在籠子里，只能吃小孩子扔給它們的爆米花和糖果。羅素和安思知道，這些小熊總有一天會(huì)長(zhǎng)大，會(huì)隔著籠子襲擊游客，還會(huì)因此被射殺。于是他們把這三只小熊從動(dòng)物園里買了出來(lái)，用直升機(jī)將它們接到自己的小木屋。

這三頭小熊名叫奇可、餅干和羅茜，都只有六公斤重。它們都太小了，還不敢獨(dú)自出去冒險(xiǎn)，于是羅素就在它們周圍樹起了一道電籬笆——與其說(shuō)是為了把小熊關(guān)在里面，倒不如說(shuō)是為了把兇猛的野獸擋在外面。有專家警告羅素和安思說(shuō)，這些小熊很快就會(huì)具有攻擊性。但是在他們與小熊相處的七年里，這三頭熊從來(lái)沒(méi)有攻擊過(guò)他們。當(dāng)灌木叢結(jié)滿漿果的時(shí)候，羅素就帶著小熊們采食漿果。當(dāng)鮭魚向內(nèi)陸游動(dòng)時(shí)，他就教小熊們捕魚。雖說(shuō)在水中它們要過(guò)好一陣才能適應(yīng)，但它們很快就能尾隨乘坐小劃艇的安思自如地劃水了。有一天，羅素和安思的任務(wù)突然加重了，要照顧更多的小熊，因?yàn)橛幸活^母熊把他們當(dāng)做免費(fèi)的保姆了?！八P算的是，在她外出獵取食物時(shí)，把小熊交給我們照看一定很安全，”羅素說(shuō)，“這樣被占便宜，感覺(jué)真的很美妙！”

2003年春天，羅素從俄羅斯的一架直升機(jī)上跳下來(lái)，回到霧靄沉沉的堪察加半島凍原上。他背著足以支撐五個(gè)月的給養(yǎng)，迫不及待地趕回小木屋，憧憬著在這里再度過(guò)一個(gè)田園詩(shī)般的夏天。可是，當(dāng)他急切地推開門，一股惡臭迎面襲來(lái)，讓他胃里一陣翻騰。他凝神向光線暗淡的屋內(nèi)望去，看到一團(tuán)東西釘在墻上，形狀像是腐爛的膽囊。偷獵者一個(gè)不剩地把他所有的熊都?xì)⑺懒恕?/p>

羅素傷心欲絕，逃離了這個(gè)地方，回到了艾伯塔省——這里有家的溫暖(安思后來(lái)又和他相聚了)?！斑@對(duì)他是個(gè)沉重的打擊，”羅素的哥哥迪克說(shuō)，“就好像自己的孩子被殺害一樣?！钡驮趹K劇發(fā)生后不到一年，羅素又感受到堪察加半島對(duì)他的吸引。于是，當(dāng)加拿大電影制片人杰夫和休·特納夫婦邀請(qǐng)他拍攝一部關(guān)于他多年待在俄羅斯研究熊的影片時(shí)，他根本無(wú)法拒絕他們。

但安思拒絕了?！八f(shuō)：‘我再也不想經(jīng)歷那一切了，’”羅素回憶說(shuō)，“她很明智。是的，回到那里簡(jiǎn)直像是回到地獄?！痹诮?jīng)歷了四年艱難的電影拍攝后，羅素于2007年永遠(yuǎn)地告別了俄羅斯——但他的離開并不意味著失敗。他收獲的是一連串珍貴的鏡頭，記錄著他所熟知的極不尋常的生靈：在和他分別了一個(gè)漫長(zhǎng)冬季之后，這些生靈又可以和他親密地摩挲著對(duì)方的鼻子，可以在他散步時(shí)蹦蹦跳跳地陪在他身邊了。

羅素知道，人們很少聽到過(guò)像他這樣的故事。當(dāng)熊襲擊人的事件發(fā)生時(shí)，新聞報(bào)道可能會(huì)添油加醋地夸大危險(xiǎn)。但真實(shí)的數(shù)據(jù)并不像報(bào)道渲染得那樣聳人聽聞。加拿大大約有38萬(wàn)只黑熊和2.6萬(wàn)只灰熊，在過(guò)去的十年里，被熊傷害致死的不到15人。羅素說(shuō)，人們的不友好舉動(dòng)導(dǎo)致了熊的兇猛行為，他舉出保護(hù)區(qū)官員對(duì)待熊的態(tài)度作為例證。一頭熊如果持續(xù)走得離人太近，就會(huì)遭到噪音發(fā)生器的“轟炸”或者橡膠子彈的射擊，或者被注射鎮(zhèn)靜劑。許多熊被抓住后又被釋放，這可能會(huì)讓熊受到驚嚇，羅素說(shuō)。在這被稱為“恐怖的釋放”中，熊離開人類設(shè)的陷阱逃往森林時(shí)，往往會(huì)受到各種噪音的“轟炸”。狗總是對(duì)著倉(cāng)皇而逃的熊又咬又叫。這里傳給熊的信息就是：別再回來(lái)！

“但請(qǐng)?jiān)囍鴱男艿慕嵌葋?lái)看這個(gè)問(wèn)題，”羅素說(shuō)，“你如果整天都在逃亡中，你也會(huì)感到緊張。是我們把它們變成了危險(xiǎn)動(dòng)物。”羅素認(rèn)為，要防止熊侵?jǐn)_人類，公眾需要把垃圾放到熊無(wú)法打開的垃圾箱里。公園里的工作人員也應(yīng)該避免呵斥動(dòng)物?！靶苣軌蚋惺艿侥銓?duì)他們的尊重，他們也能學(xué)會(huì)尊重你?！?/p>

但要贏得農(nóng)場(chǎng)主的尊重，那真是說(shuō)起來(lái)容易做起來(lái)難。當(dāng)熊從六個(gè)月的冬眠中蘇醒過(guò)來(lái)，它們尋找的只有一樣?xùn)|西——一頓美餐，而且要盡快吃到。它們?cè)诟浇r(nóng)場(chǎng)尋找孱弱或者死亡的牲畜，此時(shí)往往會(huì)遭遇農(nóng)場(chǎng)主憤怒的槍口。

對(duì)這種生死攸關(guān)的遭遇觀察了若干年之后，羅素開始采取行動(dòng)。他用卡車將死掉的牲畜從他在艾伯塔的農(nóng)場(chǎng)運(yùn)到附近地區(qū)，那地方就在灰熊冬日家園的外面。羅素想，如果熊很容易獲取這些饋贈(zèng)之物，它們就不需要在農(nóng)場(chǎng)周圍四處尋找食物了。他的這個(gè)辦法果然奏效，農(nóng)場(chǎng)主和熊遭遇的事件減少了。羅素甚至還把鄰居家死掉的牲畜也運(yùn)了過(guò)去。使他欣慰的是，艾伯塔省可持續(xù)資源發(fā)展部后來(lái)利用路斃的動(dòng)物開展了一個(gè)成功的飼養(yǎng)熊的計(jì)劃。每年人們都可以看到該部門職員乘直升機(jī)飛往熊窩，直升機(jī)的吊索上常?；位斡朴频貟熘劼购鸵奥沟氖w。

一夜之間，羅素的著作《灰熊的心》和紀(jì)錄片(編注：指《伊甸園的邊緣》)影碟都銷售一空。在羅素看來(lái)，如此高的銷售量表明公眾樂(lè)于接受他傳達(dá)的訊息。哪怕只有一位農(nóng)場(chǎng)主因?yàn)槁犃怂难葜v而改變了自己的習(xí)慣，那么他在堪察加半島度過(guò)的艱難歲月也就值了?！拔蚁Ｍ夷軌蚴顾麄兠靼祝懿⒉皇侨藗兛谥兴f(shuō)的那種兇殘可怕的動(dòng)物，”羅素說(shuō)，“它們只不過(guò)是以彼之道還施彼身。向它們施以暴力，它們就會(huì)還我們以暴力。給它們以善意，我們就會(huì)得到善意的回報(bào)?！?/p>

1.commotion [k??m???(?)n] n. 混亂，喧鬧

2.squint [skw?nt] vi. 半瞇著眼睛看

3.flicker [?fl?k?(r)] vi. 閃爍，閃動(dòng)

4.Kamchatka：堪察加半島，位于亞洲東北部，現(xiàn)屬于俄羅斯遠(yuǎn)東聯(lián)邦管區(qū)。

5.grizzly [?ɡr?zli] n. 灰熊

6.demonize [?di?m?na?z] vt. 描述成魔鬼

7.outfitter [?a?t?f?t?(r)] n. 〈美〉(尤指為旅行、野營(yíng)等)提供裝備者

8.bloodthirsty [?bl?d?θ??(r)sti] adj. 嗜殺的，殘忍的

9.falter [?f??lt?(r)] vi. 衰退，衰落

10.leave alone：不打擾，不干預(yù)

11.reciprocate [r??s?pr?ke?t] vt. 回報(bào)，報(bào)以

12.sanctuary [?s??kt?u?ri] n. 避難所，保護(hù)區(qū)

13.pristine [?pr?sti?n] adj. 原始狀態(tài)的

14.poacher [?p??t??(r)] n. 偷獵者

15.gallbladder [ɡ??l?bl?d?(r)] n. 膽囊

16.predator [?pred?t?(r)] n. 捕食其他動(dòng)物的動(dòng)物，食肉動(dòng)物

17.turn on：對(duì)……進(jìn)行身體(或語(yǔ)言)攻擊

18.saddle [?s?d(?)l] vt. 使承擔(dān)

19.tundra [?t?ndr?] n. (多數(shù)位于北極圈的)凍土帶；凍原

20.stench [stent?] n. 臭氣，惡臭

21.peer [p??(r)] vi. 凝視；盯著看

22.make out：(勉強(qiáng)地)看出，辨認(rèn)出

23.massacre [?m?s?k?(r)] n. 大屠殺，殘殺

24.gruelling [?ɡru??l??] adj. 艱難的；令人筋疲力盡的

25.for good：永遠(yuǎn)地

26.sensationalize [sen?se??(?)n?la?z] vt. 聳人聽聞地夸大，大肆渲染

27.hype [ha?p] n. 天花亂墜的廣告宣傳，炒作

28.noisemaker [n??z?me?k?(r)] n. 〈美〉噪音發(fā)生器(指足球比賽、節(jié)日狂歡等時(shí)用來(lái)湊熱鬧的喇叭、鈴鐺等)

29.tranquilizer [?tr??kw?la?z?(r)] n. 鎮(zhèn)靜劑

30.harangue [h??r??] vt. 攻擊，訓(xùn)斥

31.hibernation [hibernation] n. 過(guò)冬，冬眠

32.bounty [?ba?nti] n. 慷慨的贈(zèng)予