I was digging into my pollo al limone when a news anchor on Treviso’s local news channel started talking about a killer bear. The on-screen headline asked: “Should the bear be put to death?” Viewers were invited to call in and vote “yes” or “no”, like some murderous X-Factor elimination.
“I don’t think it’s right to kill a living being,” said my mother-in-law. “It’s so final – and she has three babies.”
“I think you have to live up there in the mountains to be able to give an opinion,” my father-in-law replied. “It must be scary living up there now.”
The animal in question is JJ4, a 17-year-old brown bear who was captured last week in Italy’s autonomous Trentino-Alto Adige region. A two-week long hunt ended with her being caught by forestry officials. Her crime? Killing a human.
Twenty-six-year-old Andrea Papi had been out running close to his home in Caldes, a small mountain village. His mauled body was found on April 5, with gashes across the arms, chest and neck. JJ4 was identified as the killer from DNA found on a tree branch that Papi had used to try to defend himself.
Maurizio Fugatti, president of the Trentino region, said the animal’s capture made him feel “satisfaction mixed with bitterness”. He tried to have the bear put down only three years ago after she attacked a father and son. Fugatti had given the order to destroy the animal, but his decision was overturned by a regional administrative court. That same court will once more decide the bear’s fate, on May 11.
It’s understandable that some people want JJ4 put down, while others feel an animal with three cubs should be allowed to live – in that respect, my parents-in-law reflect the broad spread of public opinion. It’s tricky balancing nature and humankind. Maybe Fugatti feels some kind of guilt for not standing his ground enough last time.
But then Trentino is not a big region – around 2,300 square miles – and 20 years ago the local authorities decided to reintroduce bears from neighbouring Slovenia. The number of bears since then has risen from three to as many as 120. Just to put that number into a British perspective, that’s like having 120 large carnivores roaming around in a county just a bit smaller than Northamptonshire.
“It’s a situation that has to be managed better, with more policies for safety,” Luciano Sammarone told me. He runs several of Italy’s national parks. “There must be more special measures.”
Sammarone has worked for the parks for 30 years and has been at the forefront of making sure there’s a good balance between man and bear in the Abruzzo region, a six-hour drive south of Trentino.
“What [the Trentino authorities] have to consider is that they cannot use our model, as the conditions are not the same. Our bears in Abruzzo are a subspecies named ‘Marsican brown’ bears and they are a lot smaller in size than those in the Alps.” There are also far fewer people living near the parks in Abruzzo than in Trentino.
His conclusion was similar to Andrea’s mother, Franca Ghirardini. She said on Le Iene, a national TV show: “It’s not Andrea’s fault, nor the bear’s. It’s man’s fault.”
