Learning to Say Goodbye [GPT]

Recently, we had the pleasure of welcoming several new companions, such as Sarnai the Przewalski’s mare and Samkha the Amur tiger. These first encounters are always magical moments that leave a lasting impression on the entire team. However, working with animals also means having to overcome many losses because, like the dogs or cats we have at home, the species found in zoos and aquariums often have a shorter life expectancy than ours. With herds of several dozen, or even hundreds of individuals, it is therefore expected that each year brings its share of deaths.

For animal keepers who care closely for the animals, as well as for other employees who get to know them in different ways, these losses are inevitable. We become attached to our residents, both for their beauty and their unique personalities. Some departures are more difficult than others; some losses affect certain employees more deeply.

This spring, the Zoo sauvage says goodbye to its eldest resident, a grizzly bear who marked many generations. Spicie had been a star of the Zoo since his arrival in 1996. Very endearing, he impressed visitors with his imposing presence and gentle behavior. Many had the chance to see him cool off in the water or even play in it with a huge antler, a scene that remains etched in memory.

Over the past fall, we had all noticed that our beautiful Spicie was starting to show his age. It was not a surprise: approaching 35 years old, he was quite an elderly bear. In the wild, brown bears like Spicie more often live between 20 and 25 years. It was therefore not surprising to see him slow down a bit and lose some mass, but the team monitored him closely to ensure he maintained a good quality of life. In the end, he passed away during his winter sleep, deep in his den. It was a gentle end for such an iconic bear.

After spending most of his life in the Rocky Mountains area alongside the female Ursula, Spicie had been moved in 2018 to a retirement habitat located in the Parc des sentiers de la nature. Of course, his companion joined him for this final journey. They spent their last years there in a very peaceful environment, where visitors could observe them aboard the Train Boréal. This habitat included everything that brought Spicie happiness: dens for sleeping, trees for shade, and above all, a large body of water to cool off.

Spicie was known for his attachment to his female companion. While Ursula is, let’s say, a more independent bear, our good old male always made sure to keep her in sight. When Ursula wandered off into the woods, one could sometimes hear him calling out to her with his breath and following her movements. He was also well known by his keepers for his calm temperament. Always relaxed, he was not difficult to work with—always through protected contact, of course!

Born at the Columbus Zoo in 1989, he was barely five years old when he arrived in Saint-Félicien. He grew up with us and, over the years, many animal keepers had the chance to care for him. Even more naturalist guides spent hours observing him in his Rocky Mountains habitat, and even more visitors stopped to admire him. I myself had the chance to be his keeper on several occasions, after having admired him for so long during my youth in Saint-Félicien. Like many of my colleagues, he will remain a bear that stays in my memory forever.

All the people Spicie touched are a testament to the importance a single individual can have in a zoo. As an ambassador of his species, Spicie contributed to the education of hundreds of thousands of people. Through his presence, through educational talks, and even through informational panels, he helped inform our visitors about the ecology of his species, as well as the threats it faces. It is a powerful legacy that he leaves behind, and the thought that he touched so many people throughout his long life allows us to keep smiling despite his departure.