In a development that has sent ripples through the international community and caused at least three Japanese pensioners to spontaneously develop heart palpitations, a bear of reportedly ‘extreme intelligence’ has escaped captivity in the picturesque mountains of northern Japan. The ursine fugitive, described by local authorities as possessing the cunning of a fox and the educational attainment of a postgraduate, is believed to be roaming the countryside, possibly plotting a heist on a honey factory or composing a haiku about the unfairness of its confinement.
British animal welfare experts, never ones to let a foreign crisis pass without the application of some top-notch, slightly patronising advice, have weighed in with a series of recommendations that could charitably be described as ‘unhelpful.’ The RSPB (Royal Society for the Prevention of Bruising? No, Birds. Although both seem relevant) has suggested that the Japanese authorities ‘try using a larger net’ and ‘ensure the bear is offered a cup of tea and a biscuit during negotiations.’ A spokesperson added, ‘And for heaven’s sake, don’t run. Everyone knows bears are excellent sprinters.’
This is not the first time a bear of unusual intellect has captured the world’s attention. Who can forget the infamous ‘B’rer Bear’ of 1987, which was eventually found to be a Marxist academic in a bear suit, using the disguise to infiltrate a series of G7 summits. But this new creature, which locals have taken to calling ‘Yoko Ono’ (the Japanese word for ‘bear that will probably start an avant-garde art movement’), has proven more elusive. It has been spotted reading Ovid, solving Rubik’s Cubes, and using a stick to short-circuit a high-voltage fence. ‘We’re dealing with a bear that has a brain the size of a planet,’ said one wildlife tracker, ominously. ‘We may need to negotiate.’
Meanwhile, the British government has offered to send a team of ‘bear consultants’ from the Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (DEFRA). ‘We have the best bear-handling minds in the world,’ boasted MP Roger Goswaddle. ‘They’ve dealt with everything from badgers to the ex-minister for transport.’ Critics point out that DEFRA’s last foray into international animal rescue involved a badger that escaped from Heathrow’s animal holding facility and was found three days later in a Windsor Castle pantry, having eaten a state banquet.
The bear, which has been described as ‘extremely intelligent’ by local media, has taken to leaving mocking notes for the search parties, written in passable English and signed ‘Béarice.’ One note read: ‘I am not to be trifled with. I have studied Sun Tzu and I know the location of every bee hive within a 50-mile radius. Send chocolate.’ The Japanese authorities are now considering whether to employ a ‘bear whisperer’ from Hokkaido or simply declare the creature a national treasure and be done with it.
In related news, a spokesperson for the UK’s National Union of Journalists has condemned this report as ‘unsubstantiated tittle-tattle.’ But as your correspondent always says: never let the truth get in the way of a good story. Especially when there’s a bear on the lam, a nation on edge, and a perfectly good bottle of Tanqueray at hand.
As the sun sets over the Japanese Alps, the hunt continues. The bear, no doubt, is out there somewhere, possibly writing a BAFTA-winning screenplay about its experiences. And the British animal welfare experts? They’re probably in a pub, arguing about the taxonomy of the honey badger. So it goes.
