On thin ice: Greenland's last Inuit polar bear hunters Ittoqqortoormiit (Denmark) June 18, 2024

(AFP) - Inuit hunter Hjelmer Hammeken spotted a ringed seal near his breathing hole on the Greenland ice. Wearing his white camouflage, he slowly approached the seal, then lay down in the snow and waited.Photo © Olivier MORIN / AFP

By AFP - Agence France Presse

On thin ice: Greenland's last Inuit polar bear hunters

Ittoqqortoormiit (Denmark)

When the moment was right, Hammeken slammed their feet together. The seal raised its head to look where the noise was coming from and the hunter fired.

He slaughtered the animal right there, eating part of the still-warm liver, as his ancestors had done for centuries - the hunter's reward.

Such scenes are common in the extremely isolated Inuit community of Ittoqqortoormiit, near Scoresby Sound, the world's largest fjord, on Greenland's frozen east coast.

All the men hunt in this small, colorful village of 350 people.

Although only professionals track polar bears, everyone hunts Arctic reindeer, narwhal, and musk ox.

But over the last two decades, climate change and hunting quotas have threatened the livelihoods on which Inuit families have long survived.

AFP accompanied him and other professional Inuit hunters for several days during the hunting season.

He has killed seven bears this year, adding to the 319 he has killed in the last half-century.

When he reaches the edge of the ice, where it meets the Arctic Ocean, he commands respect.

Hammeken earned his reputation in the 1980s. He would go out alone for several weeks at a time, crossing the glaciers of the fjord with his dogs and little more than a tent to bring back up to three polar bears.

It was a golden age for hunters when polar bear skins could be sold abroad.

That ended in 2005 when quotas were set to slow the decline in polar bear numbers. This year's quota of 35 polar bears was reached at the end of April, which is why Hammeken was hunting seals, for which there is no quota.

Climate change has turned Inuit life upside down since the beginning of the century - with the Arctic warming four times faster than the global average.

Greenland's greatest Inuit polar bear hunter, Hjelmer Hammeken (left), and his young protégé Martin Madsen on the ice

"We used to be able to hunt all year round," says Hammeken, 66. "In winter, the ice was harder... and the fjord never melted."

But now the ice is retreating and the Sound is open and navigable between mid-July and mid-September.

With the young hunter Martin Madsen at his side, Hammeken scanned the horizon. The wind had increased and so had the sea.

It was time to set sail. The ice, which is thin at the edge of the layer, had become unstable and was in danger of breaking up and taking him and his protégé with it.

"By August, the entire ice sheet will have melted. There will only be the sea, a rough sea," which will make it difficult to hunt seals and narwhals - which are also subject to a quota - said Hammeken.

Inuit hunters Hjelmer Hammeken (left) and Martin Madsen eat the liver of the ringed seal they have just killed.

With little ice to hunt seals, he wondered how the polar bears would survive. Trapped on dry land and starving in the summers, they are coming closer and closer to the village in search of food.

The young hunter

Back in Ittoqqortoormiit, young Madsen looked out of the window and checked the weather forecast on his smartphone. With bright sunshine and no fog, it was a perfect day for hunting. He grabbed his weapons and headed for the edge of the ice.

The other hunters were already in position, scanning the wind-swept water for signs of seals. Not far away, about two kilometers away, three polar bears were also on the lookout for seals.

Man from the North: Martin Madsen, Inuit polar bear hunter

To attract their prey, the Inuit scrape the ice with a long wooden stick called a "tooq", which imitates the sound seals make when they sneak through their breathing holes in the ice.

When a hunter spots a seal, he shouts "Aanavaa!" ("Look, a seal!") and whistles to attract its attention. If he misses, the others are free to shoot.

That day, Madsen missed the seal he spotted. But the next day, the 28-year-old killed a bearded seal with a single shot from over 200 meters with his .222 rifle, rushing to drag it back to his boat before it sank.

"The dogs will have something to eat," he said proudly.

Martin Madsen, 28, struggles to make a living as a professional Inuit polar bear hunter

Madsen is one of 10 professional hunters in Ittoqqortoormiit. Only those who make a living from hunting are allowed to shoot polar bears.

"I've been hunting since I was a child. I grew up among hunters - my father and grandfather" were also hunters, he told AFP.

But since their time, a lot has changed, not least the diminishing chance of making a living from it, despite being able to use snowmobiles satellites, and smartphones on the ice.

"There's not much to hunt these days," said Madsen. "With the quotas and everything, it's not working anymore."

Polar bears can only be hunted by the Inuit. Their pelts can cost up to 2,000 euros, but they can only be sold in Greenland after a European Union embargo in 2008.

Hunter Martin Madsen shows the last polar bear he killed this year, in April, before reaching the annual quota

Seal skins, on the other hand, sell for 40 euros or less, half of what they cost before they suffered a similar embargo in 2009, which was later lifted for skins killed by the Inuit.

At home, Madsen's partner Charlotte Pike prepared a polar bear soup with tomatoes, carrots, onions, and red curry.

"Life is difficult because of how little we earn from hunting," said the 40-year-old man, who wants to put tourists up in his home as a way of helping to pay the bills.

"Nowadays, you hear everywhere that we shouldn't eat meat and kill animals... but that's hard for us" in a place where nothing grows.

The skin of a polar bear dries in the freezing air of the Inuit village of Ittoqqortoormiit in Greenland.

Madsen has never been to school and hopes that his eight-year-old son Noah won't become a hunter like him.

A boy's dream

Nukappiaaluk Hammeken, 11, however, dreams of becoming part of Ittoqqortoormiit's small elite of professional hunters, even though there are fewer and fewer hunters at the top of the food chain.

His father, Peter, 38, runs a snack bar in this village at the end of the world, 800 kilometers from the next settlement in Greenland. Supplies arrive by boat only twice a year.

During his great-uncle Hjelmer's youth, "almost all the men in the village" were full-time hunters, he said.

"What will happen in the next 50 years?" asked Peter Hammeken. "Hunting is fundamental to survival, we need it to feed ourselves and earn money. It's important for the village and our future."

Nukappiaaluk will have to wait until his 12th birthday before he can go out on his first hunt. To become a professional, he will have to undergo a long apprenticeship alongside his elders.

First of all, he will have to master a team of dogs, which is mandatory for professional hunting.

Nukappiaaluk is already making collars for his nine puppies by hand.

Over the next two months, Nukappiaaluk will start working with his huskies. First, he must learn to train them so that they can pull his sled at speeds of up to 30 kilometers per hour. Above all, he must make sure that they follow his verbal commands to the letter - the slightest mistake can be fatal in such a hostile environment.

And, like countless generations of hunters before him, the shy boy will also have to learn to understand his prey, their behavior and movements, and how all this changes with the seasons.

Becoming a man and a hunter are inseparable for most Inuit.

"If you don't know your ancestors, you don't know who you are," insisted his older brother, Marti, 22.

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