June 27, 1998 Counts grizzly bears the easy way...one hair at a time. Clacier National Park Grizzly DNA Tracking By MICHAEL JAMISON of the Missoulian.
GLACIER NATIONAL PARK - Kate Kendall counts grizzly bears the easy way - up close, one hair at a time.
Using a combination of low-tech barbwire and high-tech DNA analysis, the research ecologist is quickly putting a number to Glacier National Park's grizzly population.
"I've been trying to get something like this started for years," she said, shifting a backpack onto her shoulders. "It's just been in the past couple of years that the genetic technology developed enough to make it feasible."
To tally the bruins, Kendall and her team lure bears into rings of barbwire, capturing hair on the sharp, metal thorns. The hair, once analyzed, tells her whether it was left by a grizzly or a black bear; whether it was a male or a female; whether it's Bear No.1 or Bear No. 2; and whether the bear is related to any of the many bears that left hair on other barbs.
Currently, the team is collecting hair from about 125 remote sites in and around the park, she said. Every two weeks, the traps are moved to new areas, and the cycle begins again. Eventually, it will encompass 2 million acres - well over twice the range of any similar study ever conducted.
To trudge 2 million wilderness acres requires a lot of footwork, and Kendall's team has been joined by researchers from the Forest Service, the state forests, Plum Creek, the state Department of Fish, Wildlife and Parks, Waterton Lakes National Park, Alberta and British Columbia. The broad base of support, she said, reflects the excitement surrounding the cutting edge project.
"It covers a lot of ground, but it's very non-intrusive," she said of her population study. "You don't have to dart or radio collar or handle the animals at all. People like the non invasive aspect. They're intrigued by the high-tech part of it. And of course, grizzly bears are always charismatic."
They are also elusive, which means Kendall's team often can be found clambenng across steep, brush-choked slopes to reach the hair trap sites. The sites - primarily in grizzly travel routes - must be at least a quarter mile from the nearest hiking trail, she said.
"I've covered some wild country," said volunteer Duayne Nyckel. "I hiked about 82 miles my first week, and not all of that was on a trail, if you know what I mean."
Nine months of the year, Nyckel teaches biology and ecology at an urban Chicago high school. But for three months this summer, at least, he will weave a path through a different kind of jungle. This summer, he will trudge up and down Glacier in search of bear hair.
"Every other study that has tried anything like this has used helicopters to reach remote sites," Kendall said. "This is the first large scale effort that is being done entirely on foot in the back country."
The most remote hair traps, she said, are atop the Continental Divide, requiring a four- or five-day backpack. Half of those days are spent hiking off-trail, she said, calling the trip a "hellacious bushwhack."
For Kendall and her volunteers, however, there is much more at stake than mountain adventure and back country vistas. There is the serious business of establishing a head count for Glacier's grizzlies.
The last attempt at counting bears came 30 years ago, when a park researcher compiled an unofficial list of bear sightings along the Going-to-the-Sun Road. He then made some educated guesses as to how many of those sightings were of different bears.
He later extrapolated his guesses to fit what he considered to be Glacier's best bear habitat, and pegged the total number of bears at about 200.
"That was a good effort for back then," Kendall said, "but he made a lot of assumptions along the way. There is no way it would stand up by today's standards. We really have no idea how many bears are out there."
Solving that mystery should help park managers make land-use decisions for years to come, she said. If successful, the method also could be used to monitor other wildlife, creating a whole new world of scientific exploration.
But first and foremost, Kendall's work should shed some light on the status of grizzlies in general, both inside and outside the park.
Currently, grizzlies are protected under the Endangered Species Act. That protected status affects all sorts of land management decisions, such as road closures and timber harvests.
The criterion for deciding when to remove such protections has come under fire in recent years, with some groups suing federal agencies over that aspect of the bear recovery plan. Until now, no practical method existed for nailing down firm population numbers.
By extracting DNA from hair, Kendall hopes to put to rest some of the debate about grizzly status. She also hopes to establish long term population trends, which can be monitored for years at little expense by collecting grizzly scat.
Back country rangers, she says, could collect the scat while on regular patrol. A quick DNA test to establish the bear's identity should allow scientists to map trends in bear numbers. Those trends, in turn, should allow land managers to make more informed decisions about proposed projects.
The population trend project would cost little, she said, as rangers come across scat daily in their routine patrols.
Wading through knee-high huckleberry bushes -just beyond a shredded log she says is a grizzly's day bed - Kendall stops to examine a fresh pile of scat about 100 yards from a hair trap site. Pushing it apart with the toe of her boot, she nods slightly; "Looks pretty healthy."
What may not be healthy is passing beyond the sign volunteers have posted on a nearby tree: Bear - Lure Station Ahead - Caution - Bears may be in the area - Please turn around or pass through quickly.
Kendall and her volunteers do not turn around and do not pass through quickly. Instead, they walk straight to the lure, lingering there to unravel twists of hair from the barbwire.
At the center of the wire triangle is a scattered pile of decaying wood, still stinking slightly from its liquid bath of rotten fish and cows' blood.
"I was a little leery of luring bears at first," Kendall said, "but there's no food reward with a liquid lure. There's nothing for them to become habituated to."
Although her crews have never come across a bear at a hair trap site, they have found numerous toads, gobbling flies attracted to the lure's stench.
"I really don't need to see any bears too close up," Nyckel said. "That might be a little too exciting."
Barring too much excitement, Nyckel plans to return to Glacier's wilderness next year, scrabbling through the brush once again with barbwire on his back and rotten fish juice at his side.
The field project, Kendall said, is expected to last three years within the park. For lands outside the park, the project is funded for this year only. But by the time volunteers are retiring their hiking boots in 2000, the real work will just be starting for Kendall. She predicts it will take an additional two years to crunch the numbers and write up the results.
"Counting bears is going to take some time," she said, "even with all the technological advances. But this is what it's all been about. I've been working toward this project for more than 10 years, and it's really exciting to finally have it happening."
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