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It is, relatively speaking, warm in Churchill, and the bears are, relatively speaking, few and far between. The past couple of days, the lack of snow combined with a fierce, howling wind to force the bears to seek cover in the seclusion of the willows. I understood how they felt, as I curled up in a sleeping bag on Buggy Five, the gusts rocking the buggy as I tried to get some sleep.

Last night, I returned to the warm sanctuary of Duncan's Den, and the welcome of Lance, Irene, a fireplace and a small dog called Monty. I return to Polar Bear Point in a couple of days; until then, I'll be walking around Churchill, adding to the encounters and interviews I have in my pocket so far.
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