(CN) SETTING FREE THE BEARS

[Guest guest]

Sunday Morning Post Magazine, 3 December 2000

 

by Cortlan Bennett

 

Years of campaigning against the barbaric practice of draining bile from Asiatic

bears for traditional Chinese medicine is paying off for activist Jill Robinson.

With 500 animals arriving at her mainland centre for rescued bears, Cortlan

Bennet witnesses the horrifying physical and psychological effects " farming " has

on its captives.

 

Cruelty to animals brings out the beat and worst in mankind. Outside the

Sichuan capital , Chengdu, in the former Liangzhou nursery for pandas once given

as gifts to foreign heads of state, British animal rights campaigner Jill

Robinson and her team are leading one of the biggest breakouts since " The Great

Escape " . Five hundred endangered Asiatic black bears - affectionately known as

" moon bears " for their golden crescent chests - will pass through this converted

rescue centre in the next 18 months, en route to a sanctuary outside the Sichuan

city of Ziyang. Some will die along the way.

Six months ago, after constant pressure from Robinson's Hong Kong-based Animals

Asia Foundation (AAF), an historic agreement was signed between the China

Wildlife Conservation Association (CWCA), the Sichuan State Forestry Department

and the AAF to end the barbaric practice of bear farming: the process of tapping

gall bile from caged animals for traditional medicines. It also secured the

immediate release of 500 moon bears and the closure of the worst farms in

Sichuan. Sanctioned by the Central Government Administration for Wildlife

Protection, it was the first agreement between Beijing and any outside,

non-governmental organisation.

What is more remarkable is that it was signed the year China had planned to

raise the number of farmed bears to 40,000 to expand trade. There are now 7,000

in captivity, producing seven tonnes of bile a year. Although bear bile has been

consumed in Asia for three millennia, the practice of farming it - by inserting

permanent metal catheters into the animals' gall bladders and draining them

regularly - was introduced to China from North Korea only 20 years ago.

China had claimed breeding and captive harvesting would protect the estimated

50,000 remaining wild Asiatic black bears (though AAF says the total is 16,000),

while meeting traditional demand. But an investigation in 1993 by Robinson -

then China director for IFAW - exposed the brutal conditions of farms and led

to international protests. In 1995, after the mediation of Hong Kong Legislator

and former bear hunter David Chu Yu-lin, the Guangdong State Forestry Department

closed a Huizhou farm reported by Robinson. She and IFAW became the proud

owners of seven adult moon bears which now reside in a small sanctuary in Panyu,

donated by Chu.

Two years ago Robinson received an MBE and founded AAF. Last year she accepted

an invitation from the CWCA to visit 11 bear farms in Sichuan. What they saw

sickened even the Chinese officials. Locked in cages no bigger than their

bodies, some of the bears had gnawed their teeth down to nubs on the metal bars.

Blood and bright green bile dripped from the catheters poking from their

stomachs. Constant banging had left scars on their heads and worn the skin off

their paws. " One bear had grown so big in its cage it had crushed rib cage, "

recalls AAF veterinarian Dr Gail Cochrane.

AAF's tripartite agreement may be linked to the recent slump in bile prices and

China's imminent entry into the World Trade Organisation. What the cynics now

say is that Robinson and her foundation are being used to clean up the industry

- to promote it as more " humane " . And even though bear farming continued, China

joined the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species [CITES] in

1981, under which moon bears are protected.

" They say we're pawns, " says Robinson. " They call us naive. But we're there

with our eyes open. There has to be trust on both sides. Our agreement has been

approved by Beijing - they don't sanction things like that freely. They're

doing something about bear farming and so are we. "

 

" God. What have we taken on? " Robinson is standing in the middle of madness - a

room full of bears rocking like babies in rusty metal cribs. Clang-clang,

clang-clang..the constant crunch of steel on concrete as inside they swing their

heads like pendulums. " This is the worst part, " she says. " The rocking noise.

Some of these bears have been caged like this for 23 years. We've agreed to look

after them for the remainder of their natural lives. "

Another truckload and 10 bears has just arrived at the Liangzhou rescue centre,

bringing the total to 58. Workmen are busy welding and laying bricks, making

larger pens for new arrivals. An electric fence will soon be installed. The

bears' swimming pool is finished and full of water. But the centre is fast

running out of temporary storage space, and resources are stretched.

One room already houses an orchestra of groaning bears in rows of rickety

" crush cages " - so-called because each has a sliding metal roof that pins the

animal to the floor so it is unable to move while being milked. Iron corsets

are sometimes wrapped around their midriffs to keep implants in place. But hell

hath no fury like an angry bear . . .

As the truck is unloaded, one cage is given a conspicuously wide berth. Inside

Is The Most Vicious Bear in the World - " VB " . She is demented, and lashes out

lightening-quick at anything within claw range. Two workers have already had

their coats torn. Another sports a bleeding gash the length of her forearm.

Cochrane decides to anaesthetise the growling bear, and gives her a quick jab

with a harpoon syringe.

But VB will not be moved. The first shot fails to knock her out. As does the

second. The third slowly takes hold, and the bear is finally dragged - eyes

open, jaw twitching - to a makeshift triage station on the ground. The source

of her aggravation is soon discovered. " Look at this, " motions Cochrane. One of

the bear's claws has grown so long it has curled under and pierced the paw,

which is now infected. " It's just had a fresh catheter implant, too, " she

observes, feeling the scar tissue around the bear's abdomen.

While there is evidence that qualified surgeons are performing these

operations, Cochrane will not confirm this, saying simply that many of the

implants she has seen have been handled with little or no training. " That's what

miffs me. The farmer knew he had to get rid of the bear, so why did he

catheterise her? The worst things is they've operated and haven't even bothered

to remove her in-grown nail. "

The bear is flea-sprayed, manicured and given an ID microchip implant before

being put into a larger cage. Watching curiously from her own tiny crush cage is

" Poppy " . She's next. In contrast to most of the other moon bears, she is

chilled and willing to lick anyone who will scratch her ear. " She's the most

lovely bear I've seen, " says Robinson, smiling. " She's a poppet. " Hence the

name.

Although the bear rescue will cost more than US$3 million (HK$23.2 million) in

the next 18 months, including purchasing and building the Ziyang sanctuary, AAF

has so far raised more than US$1 million. The cost of compensating the farmers

and housing, feeding and rehabilitating each animal works out at around

HK$50,000 a bear - and anyone who donates that amount can adopt and name one. " I

was nagging a pilot friend of my husband's one night when he was drunk, "

Robinson recalls, " and he said, 'Yeah, I'll sponsor a bear. So long as I can

name it Bottom. Then every time I show my friends, I can point to it and say

'There's my bear Bottom!' '. "

The last patient is the most serious: it's catheter appears to have been ripped

out, leaving a gaping, festering hole in it's abdomen. Cochrane quickly hooks up

two intravenous drips. " If it's gall bladder is torn and leaking into the

abdominal cavity, it's going to die of peritonitis, " she says. " All I can do is

top it up with fluids and antibiotics before looking at it again in the

morning. " And then she discovers the abscess under the bear's right shoulder.

Cochrane starts removing pus by the syringe-full. The stench is sulphuric.

" This bear will be lucky to make it through the night, " she says. Robinson

kneels down next to it and strokes its withered paw: " Maybe if we give it a

hopeful name . . . ? " Someone decides on Faith . . . and then notices it's a

male.

 

The phone rings at 6.20am. Faith is dying. Cochrane rushes from the dormitory

down to the holding pens, but she's too late. By weeks. During the post-mortem

examination she discovers the infection has riddled the bear's entire body,

eating away its shoulder down to the bone. It died of septicaemia ^ blood

poisoning. The carcass is stitched up, burnt, and buried in a nearby plot. A

small bamboo cross marks the spot.

A pall seems to have fallen over the characteristically blithe Robinson. Slowly

she says: " My mother died of septicaemia. My father told me she died screaming

in agony. When I heard that bear crying last night . . . Usually they're

aggressive, grumbling, but this bear was just sick. I held its skin and it was

paper-thin. Then when it died and Gail cut it open . . . " her eyes blink red and

she doesn't say anymore.

Standing next to her is Xiao Huang. The stout, 40-year-old mother of three has

worked for the Sichuan Forestry Department for 18 years, 11 years in Liangzhou.

" Those men, those farmers, they treat these bears like money trees - always

shaking them to see what will drop off next, " she says angrily dismissing them

with a wave. " Once I raised a pair of panda cubs here. They were sent to the

Michigan Zoo. I cried at the airport. They were like my own children. I used to

sneak them into my bed at night and feed them milk, but my supervisor caught me

and told me off, " she says, and giggles.

Xiao has recently been employed as a supervisor by AAF. Like dozens of other

forestry workers allowed to reside free at the centre, the state stopped paying

her months ago when it ran out of work for them. For the past three months, she

has thrown herself into the AAF rescue programme with a passion, and is now a

self-appointed foster mother and nurse to the bears. And she takes no nonsense

from the naughty ones.

Xiao side-kick is a moon-faced Xiao Wang, 24. He has a poster of a giant panda

on his bedroom wall and a library of native wildlife books. " We have so many

beautiful animals in China, " he says, pointing proudly at each picture. " It

would be a shame to lose them for the sake of a few selfish people. "

Later that night, Cochrane explains the bear-bile attraction. " It's amazing,

really. People claim to use it to treat all kinds of things from liver

complaints to skin rashes. But bear bile - and especially Asiatic black bear

bile - contains high concentrations of ursodeoxycholic acid, or UDCA, which has

only recently been discovered to prevent gall stones in humans. It's funny,

because the bears still get them! There are lots of cheaper synthetic and even

herbal alternatives out there that work just as effectively. But to think, the

Chinese have known about this for almost 3,000 years . . . "

 

It's 7am in Bear Land. Shafts of dawn light filter through the bars of the

holding pen as the early-morning mist rises. Steam lifts from the bears' coats

as they shake the dew and start to settle into a rhythmic, rocking motion. By

9am, bundles of fresh-cut bamboo tips are brought in for breakfast. The bears

snatch and play with the fronds, strewing them about their cages before lying

back to eat. For a while there is only the mellow crunch of green bamboo . . .

then the clang-clang, clang-clang as the habitual rocking starts up again.

AAF coordinator Boris Chiao can hear it. He's nursing a hangover. The night

before, he, Robinson and Cochrane met with Sichuan officials to hammer out the

issue of compensation for local bear farmers. After business, the three was

obliged to attend a banquet and engage in the Chinese custom of one-on-one

drinking. One glass for you, one glass for an official. Another glass for you, a

glass for another official . . .

" I don't drink, " admits Hong Kong-born Chiao rather sheepishly. " And I

especially can't stomach Maotai [rice wine]. But it's a custom on the mainland

you just have to grin and bear. " Chiao has been up since dawn, and will work

into the night translating, problem-shooting and organising almost every

logistical step of the rescue progamme. He will stay behind while Robinson and

Cochrane return to base in Hong Kong.

But before flying back, Cochrane has a three-hour operation to perform. VB -

newly adopted and christened " Hairy Mary " - is having her catheter removed.

Despite a minor infection, she is a handsome and healthy 135kg. This may have to

do with the discovery during the procedure that the 15cm metal tube sticking out

of her abdomen wasn't even connected to her gall bladder. " We've been seeing a

lot of this new free-dripping method, where they pull the gall bladder forward

and attach it to the inside of the abdominal wall so that all they have to do is

poke it with a needle every time they want to extract bile, " she says. " The

farmers claim it's more humane because there's no catheter sticking out. But

then there seems to be more chance of infection. "

Robinson walks in and a crowd gathers round the operating table as she

announces she's just come off the phone to British Airways. " They're going to

sell teddy bears at their check-in counters with little " Save the Bears logos, "

she says with a grin.

The makeshift theatre with its flickering lights has taken on the relaxed air

of a garage party. Someone changes the CD and Heather Small starts to sing " What

have you done today, to make you feel proud? " All faces turn warmly towards the

Sleepiest Bear in the World, and suddenly that's exactly how you feel.

 

*AAF can be contacted on + 852 2719 3340, or at http://www.animalsasia.org *