A Night of Wilderness - Bears, Wolves, and a Wolverine

For days we had spent our nights in the hide—often marked by long, exhausting hours of waiting. But this night was different. Hardly had we settled in when the first bears appeared. Again and again they emerged from the forest, sometimes alone, sometimes in pairs.

From the small window at the back of the hide, I watched a mother bear with her juvenile cub making her way down the slope—over and over, almost as if it were her usual route. Later that evening, the same mother stood directly in front of us, just a few meters away, drinking from a small pond. She lifted her head and turned toward us. She could not see us, but she almost certainly could smell us.

It was a moment when the closeness between human and animal became tangible—and at the same time the fragility of our situation. Our shelter was makeshift at best, nowhere near strong enough to withstand a determined bear.

Then, in the middle of the night: wolves howling. So clear, so close that it sent shivers down my spine. It wasn’t a distant echo but a sound rising from just nearby. Wolves howl to coordinate their pack, to mark territories, or to keep in contact (Wolf.org – Finland overview). In Finland today, there are only about 290–300 wolves—a fragile population repeatedly threatened by illegal hunting (Yle.fi – Natural Resources Institute Finland, 2023).

It was more than just a sound—it was a feeling of wilderness that went straight through me.

As if the night had not already been eventful enough, a wolverine suddenly slipped past our hide. It moved low across the meadow, plunged into the water of a small lake, found something, and vanished back into the darkness. Hours later, in the early morning, it returned once more—this time lingering long enough to watch more closely.

Wolverines are among the rarest wildlife sightings in Europe. In Finland, there are only about 385–390 individuals left (Luke – Natural Resources Institute Finland, 2023). They are capable of covering up to 40 kilometers in a single day and can even crush frozen carcasses with their powerful jaws (National Geographic).

For me, it was an unforgettable moment—to see an animal that remains a lifelong dream for many wildlife photographers.

One scene with the mother bear and her juvenile has stayed especially vivid in my memory. Their sounds resembled a conversation—a low growl, almost like a firm “No, not like that,” while the young bear kept testing his limits. Not yet fully grown, but no longer a cub, he wanted to assert himself—yet the mother always had the final say.

In the morning, just before we were about to leave the hide, I replayed a video of the scene on my phone. Suddenly, my hide partner wrote in our group chat: “Are you sure it’s safe to go out already? I hear bear noises nearby!” He had overheard my video and thought the bears were still outside. I couldn’t help but laugh. At the same time, it showed just how present these animals had been throughout the entire night.

That one night had everything: bears coming right up to our hide, wolves whose howls split the darkness, a wolverine emerging from the shadows, and the quiet communication between a mother bear and her young.

It was the most intense night of my stay in the Finnish taiga—and one that still reminds me how closely beauty, fascination, and awe are intertwined.