Global warming and psycho bears; Knut... A cautionary tale of animal celebrity

Consider the effect of climate change on animals and it's the polar bear that invariably comes to mind, majestically astride a thinning ice floe, watching its habitat disappear.

The species is a powerful conservation symbol. But how much is it, and the public's dawning enviro-consciousness, being cynically exploited because of it?

The story of two German polar bear cubs raises the question. It's a cautionary tale, sprinkled with fairy dust at the start, now mired in bitter law suits over money, the obligations of zoos and the role of the animals inside them – especially when they become celebrities.

Once upon a time in the Berlin zoo, an adorable polar bear was born to a mother who rejected him. The zoo decided to hand-raise the cub and named him Knut. In the spring of 2007, 4-month-old Knut was presented to the press and public and, overnight, the heart-melting, snow-white ball of fur became an international sensation.

Knut loved his round-the-clock keeper, a gentle giant named Thomas Doerflein, who slept beside him on a mattress, fed him from a bottle, and sang him Elvis Presley songs ("The Devil in Disguise," was a particular favourite). He thrived on the crowd's oohs and aahs when he and Thomas played together in twice-daily shows and posed for pictures, his latest cute gesture ever-headed for Page 1.

But there was trouble, too. German animal protection groups set off a global outcry when they argued the zoo should not have intervened in Knut's fate; that the cub should have been allowed to die – as he would have in the wild – rather than be unnaturally reared by humans. But a zoo isn't the wild, countered the public. As long as he's well cared for, why not let him be a star? Clearly, he's happy.

Last year, Knut became the biggest money-spinner in the zoo's 163-year history, generating $8 million in extra revenues, mainly from his own product line that ranged from cuddly toys to credit cards.

At the height of "Knutmania," he was the reigning king of YouTube and appeared on the cover of Vanity Fair's green issue, snapped by no less than Annie Liebowitz. The zoo was even in negotiations with a Hollywood producer to make a feature film about him.

As Knut grew larger, he grew considerably less cute and more unpredictable. The harmful effects of so much human contact began to surface and Doerflein was removed as sole keeper. The daily shows ended.

By this spring, at 15 months, Knut was a psychological mess, so addicted to human attention and adulation that he whimpered or howled in anger when no one was nearby. Whenever he picked up Doerflein's scent, he cried plaintively.

And, as of this month, he's the subject of an ownership battle between Berlin zoo and Neumuenster zoo in northern Germany, which claims it's due a slice of the Knut millions. It argues that, as his father, Lars, lives there and was lent to Berlin for breeding purposes, it is the legal owner of the first offspring.

Berlin disagrees. But it's standard practice in the zoo world, says Bill Rapley, Toronto Zoo's conservation director, who has been following the sorry saga.

"We do not want to remove Knut from his environment," Neumuenster zoo has warned, hinting that it could happen. "But we have a right to our request for money."

Knut, meanwhile, is now looking like "a suffering psychopath," according to German animal conservationist and activist Jurgen Ortmuller. "Young polar bears learn their behaviour from their mothers for up to two years, but Knut copies zoo visitors. That is completely asocial behaviour."

Now that he's separated from Doerflein, "Knut is absolutely alone. The problem will be the same with Flocke in Nuremberg."

Taken from an abusive mother and hand-reared at Nuremberg's zoo, she made her public debut in April after a lengthy publicity buildup. Just before that, however, there was an incident that shows how conflicted German zookeepers are about their role in regard to polar bears these days.

Another new mother at Nuremberg had been refusing to feed her two cubs and the zoo decided, in this case, to let nature take its course. "We want to avoid a repeat of the stupid Knutmania," explained deputy director Helmut Magdefrau, pointedly adding, "We've got a baby giraffe that's cute too."

About a week later, however, keepers discovered to their horror that the mother had eaten both cubs. Activists blasted the zoo, this time for not intervening. The criticism likely would have spiralled had it not been for Flocke's ballyhooed public presentation the very next day.

Following in Knut's paw-prints, she was greeted by 350 reporters, photographers and film crews, all shouting "This way, Flocke," as she splashed around in a wading pool. City-sponsored posters on the streets of Nuremberg showed Flocke waving and saying, "Knut was yesterday."

Nuremberg zoo, however, has been much cannier than Berlin was in its handling of the little bear. Flocke won't be turned into the Knut-style freak show, zoo director Dag Encke has pledged. Four keepers, not one, look after her in a hands-off way.

Unlike in Berlin, the bear's role will not be to show off for the crowds and generate sales (well, not exclusively) but to raise concern about the threat to animals of global warming: "Polar bears are destined to be the ambassadors of climate change," said Encke. "We have to make use of this huge public interest."

And indeed, the zoo marketing machine took off immediately with Flocke T-shirts, bed linen, a Flocke song and her own website.

Straddling the line between zoo and circus in the guise of environmental awareness rankles Bill Peters, the head of the Canadian Association of Zoos and Aquariums.

"The exploitation going on in Germany gives the public a distorted view of what the bears are all about, he says. "They're performing, not acting naturally. It's not an appropriate role for an animal to play."

German animal protection groups are so convinced Flocke is another deranged Knut in the making they've hired a noted criminal lawyer to take the zoo to court, claiming it's breaking a law that requires zoos to provide "an approximation of life in the wild."

Whether the zoo admits it or not, there's nothing natural about subjecting Flocke to the gawking of thousands of people who may think nothing more about polar bears than how incredibly cute they are, when small.

"We have a different approach in Canada," says Peters. Zoos of course want to attract and educate the public, "but we wouldn't engage in this kind of aggressive, over-the-top promotion of an animal."

The other side of the argument holds that just as the Free Willy movies drew attention to the plight of killer whales, the celebrity of Knut and Flocke can be harnessed to help save their endangered species.

"It's almost inevitable that an iconic species like this is going to be used to convey the message on climate change," says biologist Pete Ewins at World Wildlife Fund Canada. No animal in captivity is living a natural lifestyle, he stresses. "So when they become celebrities, many do feel it's justified to use them to motivate the public."

Toronto Zoo will have one male and two females when it completes a $12 million redevelopment and enlargement of its polar bear enclosure next year (the bears are temporarily farmed out to other zoos).

But conservation director Rapley says there won't be shows in the new habitat. Any orphans will be bottle-fed and handled by humans only until they're weaned. Their food may be thrown into the pool to get them to splash about in the water. But that's for the bear's benefit, not the public's.

"Don't get me wrong, polar bears are very popular and a good symbol for climate change," says Rapley. "But that's only if they're healthy and exhibiting good behaviour. Animals must be respected for what they are."

Meanwhile, back in Berlin, Knut, 19 months and 600 pounds-plus, now lives alone in his own enclosure. In an attempt to make him more independent, keepers have been ordered not to touch or interact with him. Visitors still come by, but he can no longer be counted on to be charmingly playful.

"Knut needs to leave Berlin Zoo, the sooner the better," keeper Markus Roebke told a German newspaper, suggesting he be sent to a smaller animal park. "He's had so much contact with humans he doesn't realize he's a polar bear. It's not healthy."

"Not so," responded Andre Schuele, the vet in charge of him. "Knut is making very good progress, he's growing up just fine, he's a very healthy animal, and everything is really normal."

CHRISTIAN SCHROTH/REX FEATURES
A 3-year-old boy watches as enraged Knut lunges at him repeatedly during a trip to the Berlin Zoo earlier this year. The polar bear is at the centre of a debate over animal rights.

Knut was the perfect mascot for the Green moment...

Knut remains the perfect mascot for the Green moment, mentally unstable and very dangerous.

The end of the article...

His future is causing clashes within the zoo.

"Not so," responded Andre Schuele, the vet in charge of him. "Knut is making very good progress, he's growing up just fine, he's a very healthy animal, and everything is really normal."

And Hollywood may call back and global warming reverse.

Well, I don't know about Hollywood, but have you seen how much ice is up in the Arctic this year?

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