Ninety-four brown bears. Five black bears. Five wolves. Sows with cubs. Every predator on the Mulchatna caribou herd’s calving grounds was chased down and shot on sight. And after 17 days of helicopter gunning, and a half-million dollars spent, the Alaska Department of Fish and Game accomplished little more than creating a public relations nightmare.
As a career wildlife biologist with ADF& G, now retired, I know unpopular management actions sometimes need to be taken. Bag limits may need to be reduced, seasons shortened, and methods and means of harvest adjusted. And yes, there are times when predator control is an appropriate and necessary tool.
This was not one of them. The department’s own caribou researchers reported the herd was suffering from malnutrition. Adult females exhibited poor body condition, and a significant number of animals were afflicted with brucellosis. The range was so affected by earlier extreme numbers, and by changes to the habitat itself, that significantly more adult caribou could not be sustained, at least in the near term.
Lichens, the caribou’s main food, can take a century to recover from over-browsing. Willows and other shrubs are overtaking the tundra as the climate warms, turning what was once ideal caribou habitat into habitat better suited for moose — and moose there are increasing dramatically. Local hunters testified that icing conditions, another consequence of climate change, makes it hard for caribou to access the ground lichens they depend on.
The habitat deck is stacked against the Mulchatna caribou herd.
Increasing this herd to the department’s wishful numbers is not going to happen anytime soon, no matter how many helicopter gunships we employ, and how many bears and wolves we kill. It’s not predation that reduced this herd from its prior peak, and it’s not predation that is keeping it from returning.
Commissioner Doug Vincent-Lang has said that the department must act because the state’s intensive management law kicks in when caribou fall below desired levels. But, in truth, the Game Board can, and has, opted to do nothing when it appears intensive management will not work, or is cost prohibitive.
Apparently, here, the board’s desire to be seen trying, even if the chance of success was exceedingly low, trumped common sense and good science.
There is no going back on this unfortunate decision now. But the Board of Game should learn from this mistake and not repeat it in the future.
Alaska’s wildlife, and its users, deserve better.
— Matthew Kirchhoff
Anchorage
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