Europe > Finland > other areas of Finland > Suomussalmi > Articles > Bear Faced Encounters in the Finnish Forest

The headline on one of the Helsinki tabloid papers in mid-June catches my eye as I board the plane from the Finnish capital to the town of Kuusamo. A man walking his dogs in eastern Finland has come eyeball to eyeball with a female bear. Nobody was hurt, and the man was able to report his unwitnessed encounter with a cool bravado. A normal Finnish silly-season story as the summer holidays begin, but one that is especially relevant to my trip to north-eastern Finland. I am setting off on a bear-watching trip myself, the difference being I don’t intend to let the bears know about it.

Sightings of brown bears all over Finland have become more common in recent years. Environmentalists say it’s because the nature of the forest is being changed to the detriment of the animals, which then tend to wander in the direction of human waste to scavenge. The forest product companies counter this by pointing out that the bear population in Finland has grown back to a generally agreed estimate of about 1,000, amply compensating for the annual hunting quota of 100. Two things remain undisputed: firstly, bears have grown bolder and secondly, you wouldn’t really want to bump into one while walking your dog.

That’s why the bear-watching hide set up by Markku Määttä and his son Jani at Martinselkonen in the remote area of Suomussalmi, the last stop before Finland’s eastern border with Russia, is starting to attract an increasing number of bear-watchers. Perhaps the suburban sightings in the south and other regions of the country have aroused the curiosity of the Finns in what is after all their national beast. But visitors from further afield are also finding their way to one of the last real wilderness regions of Europe to witness these exotic and fascinating animals in the wild.

Upon arrival at the Määttäs’ ‘Wilds Centre’, it becomes clear that Jani will be the only Finn in the hide tonight. The rest of the eight strong party are all British. One of the two couples has already spent a night in the hide. “You’ll be too excited to sleep,” says Michelle. “There’s something happening all the time,” agrees Andy. Nick, who is something of a bear-freak and comes from Durham, is especially anxious to see some bears, having once invested heavily in a trip to Canada that ended in disappointment without a single sighting. Jeff is here with his partner Anna, and she intends to contribute an article to the Teddy Bear Times. My journalist companion and I have been polishing up our bear puns.

It doesn’t take long for the first bear-gag opportunity to arise. We duly note that the meal served up by Markku’s wife Oili before we set off for the hide is somewhat more ample than a teddy bear’s picnic. That’s just as well, since we won’t be able to leave the hide from about five p.m. until seven a.m. the next day. Outside the erstwhile border post – Markku himself was once a border guard – Vili, the very tame pet reindeer, makes a serious attempt to climb into the minibus with the departing bear-watchers. Perhaps he’d think twice if he knew where they were going.

To reach the hide, Jani drives along forest tracks for about 20 minutes, then we walk through forest and over some swampy bog for another 20 minutes. Markku has been here earlier with a trailer load of fish heads, tails and entrails that are scattered in three pink piles in a forest clearing facing the hide. Jani cuts short our chatter as we approach the hide: “There may already be bears nearby,” he says. Heeding this advice, nobody hesitates to enter the low wooden shack when we arrive, although there is no apparent evidence yet of dangerous wildlife.

Somebody suggests that using fish – in the past they used cattle carcasses - to attract the bears is cheating. “If you want to see the bears, and if you want to see them safely, this is the only way,” Jani argues, cautiously adding that he can never guarantee that bears will rise to the bait, although the chances are well above 90 per cent. He explains that brown bears are scavengers by nature, killing only ten per cent of their total diet. Since communities in the border area are few and far between, and although bears can patrol a territory some 60 kilometres across, it is unlikely that these beasts will pursue their appetite for salmon further anywhere else. The Määttäs have learned to identify many of the bears that return to the clearing and have given them names, but Jani insists that their natural instincts are uncorrupted by this almost nightly treat.

About a dozen bear-watchers can fit into the hide at any one time, so tonight there is a little extra room to move around. There’s a toilet through a door in one corner, and broad bunks for anyone suffering from bear fatigue. Jani has brought flasks of hot water for tea and some snacks. A couple of long plastic pipes extend from the roof, directing the human scents and sounds away from the hide. A row of old reclining minibus seats is placed in front of a long, narrow, Perspex-covered window. Beneath this a shelf with beanbags, on which we rest our cameras, poking the lenses through apertures in a canvas screen. We are not far south of the Arctic Circle, so there will be plenty of light through most of the summer night. A Russian watchtower is just visible through the forest; we are very close to the border.

Jani switches on a receiver that picks up sounds from a microphone outside. All we hear for the first hour or so are our own tense whisperings mixed with the rustling of the birch leaves in the breeze. A cuckoo perches on a stump, ravens flap ominously through the treetops, and a rare black kite swoops for a sample of fish. Then Jani points to our left, where the soft brown shape of a handsome bear comes brushing, almost silently, on all fours through the saplings and undergrowth. It makes its way immediately to one of the piles of fish and starts tucking in, grabbing strips of meat in its huge claws.

Your first impression is of understanding for how these animals made their way to first place in the soft-toy popularity poll. It’s hard to imagine these bundles of fluffy fur doing any serious damage. Just the same, nobody rushes out to cuddle them. Soon the first animal is joined by two more, and they each occupy a pile of meat. The cuddly assessment is revised when one of them steps up on its back legs and rubs its rump against a tree trunk; the comedy of the gesture is offset by the revelation that this is a truly large animal, dwarfing all of us in girth and most of us in height.

The star of the night’s show is a dominant male by the name of Bodari – Finnish slang for ‘body-builder’ – with a supporting cast that includes a female, Elina, another male, Utelias, and a couple of unnamed, precocious youngsters. One of these keeps bouncing into view and starting to pick at the fish, only for Bodari to come charging into the clearing and chasing him away. Females and cubs steer clear of big males like Bodari. Jani says he is probably at least 30 years old and weighs about 250 kilos, a figure that could rise to over 300 by autumn and hibernation time. He lolls around like a decadent emperor, stuffing his considerable snout with fish and snorting at any other intruders.

The animals come and go through the night. They disappear for an hour or so at a time, then return from different sections of the woods. The fish is gradually depleted, and any human attempts to sleep are spoiled by squawking seagulls. At 6.30 a.m., Jani announces our departure. As we leave the hide, he warns us again not to venture too far from the hide, as the bears may still be close. The large paw-prints in the mud nearby again confirm the wisdom of his advice.

Back at the Wilds Centre, we compare notes. Nick is especially delighted, the self-appointed chairman of the Bodari fan club. Breakfast is served. No, Goldilocks does not attend and neither do any bears, but, yes, there is porridge. And the sudden and early departure from the hide leaves one of us at least – yes, you guessed it – like a bear with a sore head. But everybody is satisfied with the bear tally: about ten, Jani thinks, over the whole night.

When we get off the plane at Helsinki, there’s a new headline. A bear has been spotted near the town of Järvenpää, just to the north of the capital. There is a picture of the animal being pursued across an open field by a dog. A whole village turned out to see the bear, scaring it onto a rail track, where it met its end in the path of an oncoming train. I feel a special pang of sympathy for the dead bear, and a wave of good will for Bodari and the other Suomussalmi bears.

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