Free at Last

The release team, including members of the police and various members of both national and international media organisations, are due to arrive at five in the morning. This is Ecuador however and a planned 5am start would normally kick off around ten. There are around twenty people in all accompanying the release - a regular circus. It's a tribute to how important this event is that people start arriving at half past five and no one is later than six.

After my restless night I'm awake and down at the bear cage well before five. In order to drug Rosita we need to lure her into the small cage away from the other bears where Leonardo, the vet, can get a clear shot with his blow dart. Rosita hates crowds with a passion and hates the vet even more. Knowing full well that once the rest of the people arrive Rosita will run and hide in the furthest corner of the cage, I decide to lure her in myself while all is still peaceful and quiet.

The first rays of sunlight appear over the surrounding snow-capped mountains, the morning mist begins to lift and the lions greet the dawn with their customary breakfast roars. The smaller, nocturnal ocelots turn in for the day as the monkeys begin their incessant chattering. The male bears are still dozing but Rosita is awake and picking through the remains of a few bromeliad leaves. She's not been fed for a full day, since the drugs we are about to give her will cause her to throw up anything she's eaten and, as she'll be unconscious, there's a high risk of her choking herself.

I've an apple with me, my breakfast for the morning. Rosita, seeing me, approaches the fence and looks longingly at my tasty treat. I hold it up to the fence and then slowly coax her down the hill, keeping the apple close enough to draw her in but always just out of her reach. Eventually we reach the door to the small cage. Normally getting her into this would be a near impossible task but she's hungry today and we're alone; she has no reason to suspect my treachery. For the last month I've been the source of nearly all her food and, up until now, never once abused her trust.

She hesitates near the door, sniffing cautiously around the edges. She gives me a questioning glance and I move the apple a little further along the fence in answer. She steps slowly into the cage, first one foot and then another. Only her back, right leg is still out of the cage now, as she stretches to reach the sweet, succulent apple. Finally she commits herself and enters the cage completely. At the same moment I slide the small door into place locking her in. The door gives that spine-chilling scream of metal scraping on metal and my treachery is revealed. Rosita dives for the opening with a woeful moan. It's too late however, the door is sealed, along with her fate.

She paces the small cage nervously, glaring at me with both anger and hurt in her eyes. My last task before setting her free is one of betrayal, a malicious act of deception. My guilt is worsened by the fact that I can't even give her the apple that I used as bait, she's allowed no food at all. With Rosita watching on I'm unable to eat the apple myself and end up throwing it into the bush. We both go hungry this morning.

It's all for the best however: her life in the wild, away from humans and free from cages will be far better than she has ever known. Once free she will be able to wander where she pleases and eat when she feels like it. A bear in the wild has no meal times, she'll eat when she's hungry, forest foods will surround her on all sides. No longer will she have to depend on the whims of us humans to receive her fill.

The others gradually begin to arrive. There are several reporters and photographers from Ecuadorian newspapers and also a couple of journalist from some International media groups (I recognise none of the names, but then I don't read a lot of bear-centric, wildlife magazines). An Ecuadorian, television news crew is also on the scene sporting an impressive array of video cameras. With the camera men all jostling for the best camera angles it's a regular media frenzy and Rosita is, as expected, not at all happy about any of it. Thankfully Leonardo hits her with his first dart and before long she's out cold, oblivious to the commotion around her.

Dave, the field zoologist from the bear project, has made it along to help out and as soon as Rosita is asleep, he and I load her onto my stretcher and move her out of the cage. Armando takes measurements and fits her with her new radio collar (and for the fashion conscious bear, brown is definitely "in" this summer) and then we load her into a small cage and onto the back of Johnny's truck.

We set off in a convey of some five or so cars. Dave jumps on the back of the truck with the bear but I ride with Armando in his four-wheeler to catch up on all the latest bear project news and to discuss the last few changes to the web site. In the car I meet Colleen, the American woman and lawyer who helped kick start the volunteer project and who has been supporting the bear project ever since. She's flown down for only a couple of days just for this release.

Rosita is in fact supposed to be named after Colleen as a tribute for her many years of contribution to the project. Since I've spent the last month calling her Rosita, I put my foot in it right away (and continuously throughout the day) by calling the bear Rosita instead of Colleen. Colleen kindly tells me it's not a problem but none the less makes a point of firmly correcting me every time I slip up.

It's a good three hour drive. The less time Rosita (errr ... Colleen) spends in the small cage and the less drugs we her the better. The speed, or more precisely the lack of it, has Armando cursing. Co-ordinating the convey and making sure we all stay together results in us having to stop frequently to let others catch up. The trip is made even longer however when the police decide to stop to buy themselves some chips and snacks on the way. Armando comes out with a stream of Spanish words that, although I recognise none of them, I understand perfectly. Even a bout of furious horn beeping does little to speed things along as the tiny corner store owner slowly counts out change for each of the coppers.

We turn off the main road and head into the Cotopaxi reserve (the very same that I mountain-biked down so many months earlier). A long drive on a pot-holed, dirt road eventually has us at Yanahurco, the private reserve bordering on the massive Cotopaxi national park where Rosita is soon to call home. It's a beautiful little lodge in the middle of nowhere but this is not our final destination. Awaiting us at the lodge is a posie of saddled horses ready to take us on a three hour ride, through the windswept, mountain grasslands, and to the final drop off site on the edge of a remote forest.

It's a miserable, shitty day. Grey clouds slink in around us and a cold drizzle starts as we mount up and head off. We follow the steep, rocky trail up through the barren hills and a cold, biting wind beats against us. The still unconscious Rosita is tussled in a sack, with only her head sticking out. Her eyes are wide open, which I now recognise as normal for a drugged bear, and we tie a blindfold over them to protect her from glare. One of the local guides from Yanahurco is assigned the task of transporting Rosita and her limp body is thrown unceremoniously over the front of his saddle. The rest of us mount up and fall in behind.

My horse is calm and steady. She's used to carting tourists around and generally just follows the horse in front of her with little direction from me. There's small chance of my earlier riding misfortunes being repeated here: I'm not likely to fall off this one. It's a quiet and somewhat miserable ride up however. The wind whips away any words that aren't yelled and attempts at conversation are abandoned early.

We huddle down in our saddles as the rain lashes down at us. I'm wearing my Gore-Tex jacket but my hands are exposed to the cold, icy wind and my unprotected legs are quickly soaked. After a half hour or so, one of the guides rides along the line and points out that we have ponchos tied to the saddles (which us stupid city slickers have failed to notice). I slide mine on over my head and it's pure bliss, the rain slides off the thick oil skin and I barely notice the wind. My hands and legs are protected as well, since the heavy coat drapes over my saddle and down the side of my horse.

After three hours on horse back we finally arrive at a small patch of forest in a secluded valley: Rosita's new home. It's a tranquil site. A crystal clear river meanders through the lush green trees fed by a large and spectacularly beautiful waterfall. When we first arrive the clouds still hug us tightly and I'm a little concerned that the area has too few trees to house a bear. As we lay Rosita down amongst the vegetation however, the clouds lift and warm rays of sunlight illuminate the area. We are treated with a glorious view of the surrounding valleys. This little patch of forest is merely the gateway to an endless rolling sea of thick green trees, shadowy valleys and clear cold rivers. This is bear paradise.

It takes a little while for the drugs to wear off so we leave Rosita in the shade of a few broad leafed plants while we eat our packed lunch. Eventually she begins to stir and once again the media crews jostle for the best shot of her waking up. Those of us not in the media decide to hang back a little as the day has been stressful enough for poor little Rosita. There's no need for us to crowd around her and make things worse.

From my vantage point, a few meters back from the jostling crowd of camera men, I catch one last site of Rosita. She struggles to her feet, looks slowly around at her strange new surroundings, and then sets off groggily into the forests. Without a backward glance she disappears into the thick undergrowth to her new and natural life in the wild and that's the last I see of my little rose. She's free at last.

We mingle around the site a little longer while Armando (clearly enjoying his moment of fame) gives an interview for the TV crew. In the end the job is complete, there's nothing left to do and nothing left to say. We head back to our horses for the long ride back down. I return to where I "parked" my horse only to find it missing. I look up the hill and Johnny is already halfway up the ridge line on the back of my horse. He shouts down at me and points to another horse. I assume he's just mixed up the two and taken mine by mistake so I mount up on what I assume was his horse.

As I turn to leave however one of the camera men stops me. It's his horse that I'm on and he's not too impressed with me stealing it. I clamber down and hand over the reigns and look around for the horse that Johnny must have left behind. I find it tied to a tree in the corner and I quickly realise why Johnny was keen to get rid of it. This horse is a midget, barely bigger than a pony. Johnny didn't take my horse by accident, the bastard stole it!

I've no choice, the rest of the group are already on their way out. I carefully pull myself up into the saddle and, after apologising to the poor little guy for my bulky weight, head off. My clown-sized feet don't fit in the stirrups and they are so high anyway that even if they did fit my knees would be knocking against my chin. I settle for letting my legs dangle. The poor little horse is so small that my feet are only a foot or so off the ground. In truth it would probably be fairer if I carried the horse back down the hill, rather than the other way around.

The sun is shinning brightly now and the clouds have lifted. On the way up we were barely able to see the horse in front of us but now the mountains are rewarding us for delivering a bear to them. In every direction we are surrounded by the snow-capped peaks of towering mountains. As we round one bend, about halfway down, we are greeted with an unobstructed and awesome view of the pyramid-like Cotopaxi volcano, a giant of the Andes at 5,900 meters above sea level, sporting a pure white mantel of snow.

At last we arrive back at the Hacienda of Yanahurco. My little steed holds his strength until the last and he rides proudly down into the coral his head held high. I dismount gratefully and give him an appreciative pat, ignoring the jibes and jokes of the others about our mismatched sizes. I give Johnny an accusative glance and he looks away sheepishly, failing to conceal his evil grin.

The next few days after Rosita's release are highlighted by a media extravaganza. Ecuador is gripped by "bear-mania" (well, this is the somewhat colourful description used by Dave in a grant proposal he was writing). The release of Rosita makes it onto the evening news and we are in two of the national papers. I miss the news on the TV but manage to get hold of one of the articles in the newspaper.

Accompanying the article is a photo of me carting Rosita out in the stretcher, only they've cut the photo off so that I'm visible only from the waist down. There's also a few paragraphs in the article about me getting down there at the crack of dawn to move Rosita into the cage. They've even quoted me, using my story about the bears being highly intelligent and not liking the vet (though they improved the grammar of my Spanish a little before printing it). The only problem is that instead of using my name they've taken Leon's by mistake and claimed that I was from New Zealand. So basically I made the papers but only from the waist down, and with the wrong name and wrong country. The fame has been hard to deal with, but I've not let it get to my head.

One week after Rosita's release we check on her for the first time. A wealthy friend of Armando's, who uses light aeroplanes to take aerial, landscape photos, makes a flyover of the Yanahurco reserve. Armed with one of our radios he picks up Rosita's single. She's moved a little way into the forest and the signal is both strong and active. We'll continue to check on her from time to time but for now it seems she's coping just fine out there in the wild on her own. I suspect it won't be long until there are a few little Rosita-cubs wandering around there with her too.

The Great Escapes

I once tried going on a detox diet (it was a mistake and one that shall never be repeated, I can assure you). I could handle the loss of dairy goods (replaced by some form of bean extract) and the loss of bread (replaced by some form of cardboard). It was the lack of sugar that drove me mad. I don't eat a lot of junk food mind you, it's just that even the "healthy" foods in the Western World seem to be loaded with sugar. I had cravings: no matter how much bean curd and cardboard I ate I always needed something more. I was grumpy too, unapproachable and liable to snap. I was like a smoker on patches, a junkie needing a hit. It was a tough two weeks.

It was no surprise to me then that by taking the bears off a pure diet of sugar-rich fruit and putting them onto what is basically the brussel sprouts of the bush (i.e. bamboo and bromeliads), I would end up with some pretty unhappy customers. Pissing off a bear is not something I recommend doing. Sure they might look cute and cuddly but get on the wrong side of them and they'll happily tear you a new arsehole. Fortunately I was on the outside of the cage (most of the time) so the bears had to make do with trying to tear each other apart instead. They jostled restlessly with each other constantly and when the food, with an ever decreasing fruit content, was put in the cage they were unable to decide between trying to scoff it down as fast as they could or fighting with each other over it.

All the boys were out of sorts, but Beto took it the hardest. He went from being a happy, go-lucky bear (probably from all that wanking) to an angry, vengeful demon looking to vent his rage on anything that moved. He was mid-puberty as well and going through a growth spurt so I really can't hold it against him. I did try to introduce the change as gradually as possible but I had only four weeks to work with, and Rosita, being smaller and more experienced, was much quicker to adapt than the boys. Since she was the only one going out for the release she was setting the pace of the rehab and the boys were forced to tough it out.

I'm sure it was Beto that master-minded the escapes. He was always just that little bit more cunning than the other boys. I'm sure it was he that led the others astray. I'm in Quito when they escape the first time. I'd gone in for just a couple of days to do some work on the web page that needed Internet access. I arrive back at Santa Martha to discover that they've dug away a solid chunk of earth just near the door. The resulting hole is not much bigger than the entrance to a rabbit borough but somehow all four bears have managed to squeeze through.

Once again the volunteers manage to get them back in the cage. Hunger, the cause of the problems in the first place, also provides the solution. The male bears are found down in the pen of the Galapagos Tortoises gulping down the mounds of fruit that these slow reptiles take a day to eat. The tortoises, though surely not happy about the invasion, are not about to stop three hungry, male bears and they are wisely hiding inside their shells when the volunteers arrive.

Using a few buckets of fruit, the boys are easily lured back into their cage. Only Rosita is not so easily conned, her hunger being far less. This is not the first time Rosita has roamed free either. A year or so earlier, in the dead of the night, poachers cut a hole in the fence and pilfered Beto. He was taken to Quito where he was undoubtedly headed for the black market. Luckily the poachers were caught by police and Beto was returned. The other big boys remained in the cage, but the more savvy Rosita found her way out through the hole left by the poachers. She wandered around the farms of Santa Martha for two weeks, living off local crops, before she was finally tranquilized and recaptured by Armando and Leonardo.

Having escaped again it was reasonable to expect that she would not be found so easily. For some unknown reason however she returned to the cage later that afternoon. Either she'd had a bad time in her previous escape or she just missed the boys. Some of the volunteers had stayed by the cage for the day just in case, and when she returned they merely opened the door, threw some fruit in and she wandered casually back in.

We repair the cage but decide to increase the amount of food that the bears are getting as well. We increase both the fruits and the forest foods in a attempt to placate them. Increasing their fruits isn't ideal, but rehabilitation would be pretty pointless if the bears all escaped and then were shot by local farmers. A compromise is used that should still have Rosita prepared for her release.

Food is suddenly not the only problem however. I am down helping the other volunteers repair a cage for some Cabeza de Muertes (ugly little animals that look a lot like stoats - the name means "Head of Death" as they sport particularly evil looking mugs) when we start hearing strange noises from the bear cage. It sounds like a couple of Wookies are having it out, with a strange mixture of purring, grunting and growling. I don't think much of it at first but a volunteer who'd gone back for some more tools tells me that two of the bears are mating.

I head up for a look and sure enough discover Gabriel humping away on top of the less than impressed Rosita, who looks somewhat bored with the whole thing. I watch them for a while at a distance unsure of the best action to take (earning me a reputation with the other volunteers as a man into bear porn). Eventually they notice me, and since I am by now, the source of all their food they quickly give up on the mating and come looking for tasty treats (well Rosita stops quickly anyway, Gabriel looks a little less pleased and I'm sure gives me some unfriendly glances).

I have fears that the release will be cancelled since a pregnant bear should probably not be drugged. After we talk with Leonardo, the vet, however it's decided to continue with the plan. This is the first time Rosita has come into heat (just my bloody luck!) and it's more than likely that the romantic intentions of the still very young Gabriel will amount to nothing. We decide to risk it, getting Rosita out into the wild where she can mate with other wild bears is even more important now.

Of course having a female in heat sharing a cage with three pubescent and hungry males does little to help the mood of my furry friends. The boys continue to wrestle and shove each other, and often one or the other loses his temper giving a loud, vicious moan that I never once heard before changing their diet. One morning I come down to find that Leo's right ear has been badly cut. None of the other bears own up to it but I guess that the increasingly aggressive Beto is the guilty party.

The lack of equipment for the earlier move of the boys into the smaller cage and the general Ecuadorian attitude towards such things has me concerned over what they are planning to use for the release of Rosita. I set myself the task of building a stretcher. Leon supplies me with some discarded wooden polls from an old cage and I buy myself some rope from the local town. Despite never having woven a thing in my life I end up with a not too shabby little stretcher. It turns out my Mum was wrong, all those hours of sleeping in hammocks, my sub-conscious mind absorbing the patterns of the interwoven rope, has served me well after all.

My stretcher gets a test run. Santa Martha has a pride of lions (taken from a circus that was keeping them illegally) and one of the older males is no longer getting on with the rest of the gang. He's targeted for removal and will spend the rest of his days in a separate cage with an inbred, slightly blind and mentally disturbed female lion (not my ideal retirement either).

The usual process is carried out: Leonardo arrives, he blows a dart into the lion, and then we have to move him. The slight complication this time is that the lion we've just darted is in a cage with three other lions and two, three-week old cubs (the result of some Ecuadorian planning, where the neutering of the male was done after the females became pregnant). As luck would have it the male, after being drugged, wanders down to where the cubs are and passes out practically on top of them. The females are not going to be too happy with us messing around down there but there's little choice.

I volunteer for the retrieval mission: the lion is damn heavy and it makes sense for us males to do the lifting (political correctness is generally ignored by all in these situations, particularly by the women). We enter the cage. Johnny goes in first, waving a stick and making a lot of noise. The rest of us follow behind with the stretcher while one more volunteer stands guard behind, keeping the path to the doorway free. Johnny, all of about five and a half feet tall, manages to put the fear of God in the cats and they lurk along the back of the cage. As we approach the cubs however, they snarl and begin to approach and Johnny quickly grabs the cubs and propels them towards the females. They are placated enough for us to get to work with Johnny on constant guard.

We load the lion onto my stretcher. He weighs a ton and four of us lifting is barely enough. I begin to have doubts about the strength of the stretcher. It was designed for a much smaller weight: none of the young bears weigh anything over 150 kilograms. This beast must way two or three times that at least. Despite my concerns the stretcher holds true and we heave the lump of muscle and fur up the hill and out the door and into his new retirement home. All the while Johnny fends off the female lions, using his stick and force of will alone.

I continue my work with the bears as the day of release draws steadily closer. The top of the bear enclosure is open and it's only the presence of electric wires running along the top and bottom of the walls that deters the bears from climbing. The bears know that these wire zap but they frequently test them anyway. At least once a week one of the boys sniffs tentatively at the wire for a while before nudging it with a wet nose. The zap they get scares the shit out of them every time and without fail they give a startled yelp before scrambling up the nearest tree.

With the rainy season well and truly settled in, blackouts become frequent. Of course there's no generator or backup power supply for the enclosure (that would be both well beyond the budget and well beyond the limits of Ecuadorian long range planning). One evening I arrive at the enclosure to find the entire length of electric wire (some 40 meters or more) torn down from the fence and being used in a game of tug war between Beto and Gabriel. After a quick check to make sure all four bears are still in the cage I run back up the hill to tell Johnny.

Johnny sends me back down to the cage with orders not to let any of the bears escape while he gathers tools and workers to repair the cage. I spend the next hour maintaining a careful vigilance over my would-be escapees. I'm armed with a sturdy length of bamboo, a mighty weapon indeed against four restless bears should they attempt a breakout.

Eventually Johnny arrives with two other helpers. It's dark by this time but we push into the bear cage anyway. Before entering we manage to get all three boys into the small feeding cage and lock them in. Johnny works his way around the fence, reattaching the wire and repairing any breaks while the other guys keep watch on the prowling Rosita, occasionally fending her off with their trusty staves.

I'm assigned guard duty for the boys. The door between the small feeding cage and the larger cage is flimsy and slides into place without any locking mechanism. Left to their own devices the bears can work out how to slide the door open and escape back into the main cage. I stand over the door rapping the paws of the boys with my staff as they pull and play at the door. Johnny's left me with an electric cattle prod but either its not working or the voltage is too low. Each time I try to zap one of the boys they end up licking the end of the prod and trying to play with it.

After two or three hours in the dark and in the rain Johnny is finally happy with the fence. He connects the power once again. I'm at the far end of the cage when this happens and, rather than walk over, Johnny yells at me to test the wire. I've only got one tool to use for this: my hand. Gingerly I tap the wire. Nothing. I yell out to Johnny and he fiddles with some more wire. Still nothing. I keep tapping my hand on the wire yelling to Johnny, "Nada ... nada ... nada ...". Finally the power kicks in, a jolt runs up my body, makes my hair stand on end and frizzles my teeth. My "nada" becomes "naaaaaaargh fuck!" and Johnny gets the confirmation that the fence is working.

After this near escape the bears are put back onto their original diet for a day while we work out a plan. Eventually Johnny comes up with a solution so simple I feel stupid for not thinking of it earlier. For each meal we lure the three boys into the smaller cage and shut the door while keeping Rosita outside. Once in the small cage we can feed the boys as much food as they can eat while Rosita is given the bamboo and bromeliads. Rosita has never liked the close confines of the small cage and keeping her out is not overly difficult. The dumber, hungrier boys go where ever we put the food.

This works well and the boys begin to calm down somewhat. They are still restless but no where near as aggressive as they have been. Despite this they still escape one last time, only two days before Rosita's planned release. It's obvious that it's more than just food that's driving them to seek freedom. The boys are coming of age and it's natural for them to want to wander. Male bears in the wild roam massive distances looking for adventure, for food, and for a little lady action. These boys need space.

The final escape is on a Saturday evening. The other volunteers have this time off, but my bears need feeding twice daily - they don't know what a weekend is and after a month of this work, neither do I. I'm up preparing their evening meal when Brenda (Johnny's wife) comes in and tells me that the bears are not in their enclosure. It's all too familiar for me to be overly concerned but this particular escape is badly timed. Armando has organized a stack of media and police officials to attend Rosita's release on the Monday. Nothing would be worse publicity for both Santa Martha and the Bear Project than Rosita not turning up for her own release party.

I rush down to the enclosure with my bucket of mashed fruit, dog biscuits and oats. Sure enough the cage is empty and there are no bears in sight. With a weary sigh I put down my bucket and begin to unlock the cage door. My plan is to leave the door open with some food in the cage while I go in search of the bears. With any luck they will wander back on their own as before.

I'm fiddling with the lock when I hear Leon's voice behind me, "you better open that cage quick mate." I turn and less than a foot away and completely blocking my escape, are the three boys all lined up around my bucket of food like pigs at a trough. Carefully I open the door and then slowly drag the bucket into the cage with the three boys following close behind. Leon follows me in and using some apples that he's brought down we manage to distract them long enough for me to empty the bucket and for us to make good our escape.

Leon's closing the door when I spot Rosita wandering up the hill. I head over to her with some apples and some of her beloved dog biscuits. She trustingly follows me back down the hill, slow step by slow step. Leon opens the door again and using his basket of apples distracts the boys so I can bring Rosita in. She hesitates on the threshold and for a moment I think she might bolt but the lure of the dog biscuits is too strong and she follows me in. Leon has the three boys almost climbing up him as they try to rip the basket out of hands but we throw the food around the cage and then dive for the door, bolting it shut behind us.

We find the escape point. This time they basically just ripped the fence out of the ground and then dug under it. It seems the bears can escape almost at will, it’s just that they've not bothered to put the effort in before now. Johnny finally agrees that it’s more than just a problem with food and makes plans to rebuild the bear cage completely in the coming weeks. In the meantime we spend another late evening fending off bears with sticks while Johnny makes repairs to the cage. This time he drapes electric wire along all the potential escape points. It's a temporary solution but should hold the bears until the repairs can be made.

While we’re repairing the cage, reports begin to trickle in from workers around the farm that several monkeys have escaped. We go to investigate and discover that the bears have been on a bit of a rampage. The roof of the Jaguarindi (like a house-sized Jaguar) cage is completely bowed from where a bear (or two) has obviously climbed up and tried to get in. Luckily the cage is still intact and the Jaguarindi is cowering in its box when we arrive. The squirrel monkey cage is in far worse shape. The bears have completely demolished this and have torn large holes in the thin mesh cage. Two of the little guys are deep in their box, shivering with fear but the rest have escaped to the nearby trees. Luckily Leon is able to recapture them all and after a quick head count we are relieved to find that all managed to avoid being eaten.

We do a quick check of the other animals and all the cages are intact. We're not sure what would have happened if the bears tried to face off against some of the big cats and we're glad we didn't get to find out. Only Annie, the Tapir, is missing but this is normal. She roams free around Santa Martha as she keeps escaping from her cage and no one can work out how. She's completely harmless and quite enjoys the company of the cows so she's generally allowed to get away with it. She has been known to hang out near the bear cage however and the bears have shown a more than friendly interest in her presence before so there's no way of knowing what happened until Annie turns up again.

The last Sunday before Rosita's release is a nervous time for all. No one will be looking too good if the press and the police turn up then next morning to find bears running lose all over the center, chewing on endangered animals. I spend the day at the cage on a quiet vigil but the bears are calm and spend most of the day snoozing (probably exhausted from their rampage on the previous day). I'm unable to sleep on Sunday night and have to get up and check on the bears every couple of hours until at five in the morning the media circus arrives and it's finally time to say goodbye to little Rosita.