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.