She had discovered what kind of “spotting” she was doing.
While nine of the scientists conducted a climate-tracking fieldwork on this tiny island, she was the lookout for polar bears.
Apparently this was a very real prospect. And if she saw one, the very first thing she had to do was fire the flare.
This would serve the dual purpose of a) frightening the bear away and b) warning the others.
It was not foolproof. Humans were tasty protein sources and the bears were not known for their fear,
especially in recent years as the loss of habitat and food sources had made them ever more vulnerable and forced them to be more reckless.
“Soon as you’ve fired the flare,” said the eldest of the group, a beardless, sharp-featured man called Peter who was the field leader,
and who spoke in a state of permanent fortissimo, “bang the pan with the ladle. Bang it like mad and scream.
They have sensitive hearing. They’re like cats. Nine times out of ten, the noise scares them off.”
“And the other time out of ten?” He nodded down at the rifle.
“You kill it. Before it kills you.” Nora wasn’t the only one with a gun. They all had guns.
They were armed scientists. Anyway, Peter laughed and Ingrid patted her back.
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