The brown bear at Skånes Djurpark, the zoo outside of Höör stopped me in my tracks. There’s something about standing just metres away from this ancient beast, even with a barrier between us, that taps into something deeper — a mix of awe and ancestral caution. I arrived just as feeding time began, and the air was thick with the primal rhythm of muscle, bone and instinct.
The bear a creature of the old world
Brown bears (Ursus arctos) have roamed the northern forests of Sweden for millennia. They are symbols of wilderness, deeply woven into Scandinavian folklore — sometimes feared, often revered. With their keen sense of smell, surprising speed and immense strength, they sit atop the woodland food chain. And yet, they are not relentless hunters. More often, they’re solitary wanderers, omnivorous opportunists, resting under pines, foraging for berries or fish.
But today, this bear at Skånes Djurpark had something else between its claws — a dead rat, fur and all. I watched as it sniffed, tore, and gnawed with shocking efficiency, the blunt power of its jaw unmistakable. There was no performance, no show — just the honest, animal act of survival.
A moment both brutal and beautiful
I found myself strangely moved. It wasn’t just the teeth or the blood. It was the stillness around it. No growling, no frenzy. The bear chewed slowly, deliberately, like it had done a thousand times before. I crouched low behind the viewing platform, feeling small, respectful. There was no drama in the bear — only the truth of its being.
And then it lifted its head, eyes dark and unreadable, jaw glistening. It looked straight at me. Not through me — at me. And in that gaze I felt something old stir, something animal within my very human heart.
The Photographer’s View
📍 Skånes Djurpark, Höör, Sweden
📷 Sony A7R V + Sony FE 200–600mm G OSS
⚙️ 1/1600 sec • f/6.3 • ISO 2500
Capturing this moment demanded patience and silence. I let the lens settle low and waited for the bear to turn its head just slightly, to catch the light in the eye. The second shot — with the jaw deep into its meal — was rawer than most images I’ve taken. But that’s the truth of wildlife photography: you document what is, not just what’s easy to admire.
The Bears Call to the Flock
Have you ever encountered a bear in the wild or at a wildlife park? What did it make you feel — awe, fear, connection? I’d love to hear your bear stories or memories. Share below or tag a fellow nature lover.
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