Kalluk Polar Bear
A Eulogy for Kalluk, Baffin, and Hope
Dear keepers who loved them, visitors who watched in awe, and all who carry the weight of the Arctic in our hearts,
We stand together today—not in one place, but across continents and oceans—to mourn three magnificent polar bears whose stories ended far too soon in human hands.
Kalluk, the gentle king of San Diego’s hill, slipped away peacefully on 14 August 2025 at the age of twenty-four. Orphaned as a cub in the Alaskan wilderness, he outlived every wild male of his kind by years, teaching us with every curious glance and basketball dunk that intelligence and grace can endure even in concrete kingdoms. Surrounded by the team who had known him since he was a trembling orphan, he closed his eyes for the last time, finally free of the arthritis and age that had begun to slow his powerful frame.latimes.comnbcsandiego.com
Baffin, the playful seven-year-old rescued from the Canadian tundra, left us on 19 July 2024 in a moment no one saw coming. He and his lifelong companion Siku were doing what young males do—wrestling, sparring, celebrating the strength in their thousand-pound bodies—when a single misplaced grab crushed the breath from his throat. In the blink of an eye, the Calgary pool that had echoed with their roars became silent. He was in perfect health until the instant he wasn’t. A tragic reminder that even the safest enclosures can never fully replace the endless sea ice where no play bite can ever be fatal.calgaryzoo.comcbc.ca
And Hope—our bright, eleven-year-old Hope—who carried the promise of her name across three countries, from France to Sweden to the green fields of Suffolk. On 10 September 2025 she went under anesthesia for a dental procedure meant to ease her pain, surrounded by seven specialist surgeons and the keepers who called her family. She simply never woke up. The bear who had survived closures and transfers, who had found her mother and sister again in Jimmy’s Farm’s vast reserve, left the world on a quiet English afternoon while the vet team fought to bring her back.bbc.comitv.com
Three bears. Three different stories. One shared truth:
They were ambassadors for a species on the brink, yet they paid the highest price for our need to look into their amber eyes up close.
Kalluk taught us longevity is possible when love is measured in decades. Baffin showed us that even “natural behavior” in captivity can turn deadly in a heartbeat. Hope reminded us that every routine procedure carries risk when the patient weighs as much as a small car and belongs to the Arctic, not Suffolk.
To the keepers who are still waking up with empty pools and silent enclosures: your grief is valid. You gave them the best lives possible within walls none of us would choose for ourselves.
To the children who pressed their hands to the glass and dreamed of the Arctic: carry these names with you. Kalluk. Baffin. Hope. Let them be the spark that makes you fight harder for the wild ones still walking on shrinking ice.
And to the nineteen thousand polar bears left on this warming planet: we are sorry. We took three of your kin, dressed their prisons as palaces, and called it conservation. Their deaths—peaceful, accidental, surgical—were not natural. They were the cost of our wonder.
Swim now, great ghosts of the north. Chase seals across ice that will never melt in memory. Play without fear of drowning. Grow old beneath auroras that need no artificial lights.
Kalluk, Baffin, Hope— run free on the wind that still howls across the real Arctic. We will miss you every time we look north and see only sky.
In loving memory Kalluk (2001–2025) Baffin (2017–2024) Hope (2014–2025)
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