08/03/2026
๐๐ผ๐๐ฟ ๐๐๐ฏ๐. ๐ข๐ป๐ฒ ๐ถ๐บ๐ฝ๐ผ๐๐๐ถ๐ฏ๐น๐ฒ ๐๐ถ๐ป๐๐ฒ๐ฟ. ๐๐ป๐ฑ ๐ฎ ๐บ๐ผ๐๐ต๐ฒ๐ฟ ๐๐ต๐ผ ๐บ๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ฒ ๐ถ๐. โ ๐๐ฒ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ป๐ถ๐ป๐ด ๐๐ต๐ฒ๐ป ๐๐ผ ๐ณ๐ฒ๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐๐ผ๐๐ฟ๐๐ฒ๐น๐ณ ๐ณ๐ถ๐ฟ๐๐, ๐ณ๐ฟ๐ผ๐บ ๐ฎ ๐ฏ๐ฒ๐ฎ๐ฟ.
She was finally seen on the Chilkoot River 3 days ago.
The rest of the valley calls her Lulu. I've known her for seven of her eleven years, since before that name existed โ back when just a handful of us on the river called her Kali, quietly, the way you speak the name that belongs to someone you actually know. I still think of her that way. Lulu is who she is to the town. Kali is who she is to me.
Kali is Speedy's daughter โ the bear I shared with you not long ago โ and she just walked out of the trees and onto the riverbank with last year's cubs strung out behind her.
I've watched Kali raise two litters now. Her first included just two cubs โ and we lost one the way we lost Speedy. Same river. Same fate. One generation apart. It is not a thing I can write about lightly, so I won't try. I'll only say I understand exactly what it cost my heart to lose them both.
I met her newest litter last year, small, unsteady, ambling fresh from the river through our yard. When they returned this week, more grown up, golden-coated and alive, it undid me a little.
I nearly cried from somewhere deeper than my eyes. Because arriving here cost her.
๐ฆ๐ผ๐บ๐ฒ๐๐ต๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ฒ ๐ถ๐ป ๐ฎ ๐ฑ๐ฒ๐ป ๐ต๐ถ๐ด๐ต ๐ฎ๐ฏ๐ผ๐๐ฒ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ฏ๐ฒ๐ฒ ๐๐ป๐น๐ฒ๐, ๐ฐ๐ฟ๐ผ๐๐๐ถ๐ป๐ด ๐ฎ ๐ด๐น๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ฒ๐ฟ, ๐ฎ ๐ฟ๐ถ๐๐ฒ๐ฟ ๐ฎ๐ป๐ฑ ๐ฎ ๐บ๐ผ๐๐ป๐๐ฎ๐ถ๐ป ๐ฟ๐ฎ๐ป๐ด๐ฒ ๐๐ฒ'๐น๐น ๐ป๐ฒ๐๐ฒ๐ฟ ๐๐ฎ๐น๐ธ โ ๐๐ต๐ถ๐ ๐ณ๐ฎ๐บ๐ถ๐น๐ ๐ผ๐ณ ๐ฑ ๐๐๐ฟ๐๐ถ๐๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐ฎ ๐๐ถ๐ป๐๐ฒ๐ฟ ๐๐ต๐ฎ๐ ๐๐ฟ๐ถ๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐๐ผ ๐ฏ๐๐ฟ๐ ๐ฒ๐๐ฒ๐ฟ๐๐ผ๐ป๐ฒ ๐ถ๐ป ๐๐ฎ๐ถ๐ป๐ฒ๐.
Seven feet of snow in four days, a second storm lined up behind the first, the kind of winter that puts the whole valley under a state of emergency. I wasn't here for it. I was denning in New York, 3,000 miles away, in my bed through treatment. But I watched my chosen Haines family struggle for weeks โ digging out cars, unburdening roofs, skiing in to reopen the post office. All I could do is hope all would still be standing when I finally got back.
Like me, Kali felt none of that discomfort. She was denning with four cubs against her body.
๐ฆ๐ผ๐บ๐ฒ ๐๐ถ๐ป๐๐ฒ๐ฟ๐, ๐๐ผ๐ ๐ท๐๐๐ ๐ต๐ฎ๐๐ฒ ๐๐ผ ๐๐ฟ๐๐๐ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐ฑ๐ฒ๐ป.
Here's what most people don't know about denning mothers: they keep nursing their yearlings through hibernation. No food for themselves. No water. Lowered body temperature. Metabolism barely idling. Running solely on the fat built from fish eaten months before. And still, in the dark, she gives them milk. Because some part of what a mother is doesn't pause just because her own body is fasting.
Waking to a new spring, there was no rest for the weary. After four cubs fed from her for months, Kali had to travel real distance, the kind that would break most of us โ timed precisely enough to land her family back on this river the exact week the pink salmon started running. No calendar. No map. Just a body that knew.
You can see the toll of it on her now. She's thin in a way that startles when comparing her with the other mothers on this river โ narrow through the shoulders, her head looking too large for the rest of her, the way exhaustion rearranges a creature's proportions. She's been grazing nearly nonstop, taking in anything green and fast, because high nutrition is what's necessary when your body is this far into debt. A few days ago she caught two fish. Two. And she ate them herself, every bite, while her cubs groaned and protested loudly at the unfairness of it.
That's not cruelty. That's math.
๐ ๐บ๐ผ๐๐ต๐ฒ๐ฟ ๐๐ต๐ผ ๐ฐ๐ผ๐น๐น๐ฎ๐ฝ๐๐ฒ๐ ๐ณ๐ฒ๐ฒ๐ฑ๐ ๐ป๐ผ ๐ผ๐ป๐ฒ. ๐๐ฎ๐น๐ถ ๐ถ๐ ๐ฑ๐ผ๐ถ๐ป๐ด ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐ฐ๐ผ๐น๐ฑ๐ฒ๐๐, ๐๐ถ๐๐ฒ๐๐ ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ถ๐๐ต๐บ๐ฒ๐๐ถ๐ฐ ๐๐ต๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ฒ ๐ถ๐ โ ๐ณ๐ฒ๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐บ๐๐๐ฒ๐น๐ณ ๐ณ๐ถ๐ฟ๐๐, ๐ผ๐ฟ ๐๐ต๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ฒ ๐ถ๐ ๐ป๐ผ "๐บ๐๐๐ฒ๐น๐ณ" ๐น๐ฒ๐ณ๐ ๐๐ผ ๐ณ๐ฒ๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐ฎ๐ป๐๐ผ๐ป๐ฒ ๐๐ถ๐๐ต.
The cubs, meanwhile, are round and glossy and clearly thriving, real proof of everything she's done right. It doesn't show up on her body. It shows up on theirs.
๐ ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ฐ๐ผ๐ด๐ป๐ถ๐๐ฒ ๐๐ผ๐บ๐ฒ๐๐ต๐ถ๐ป๐ด ๐ถ๐ป ๐๐ต๐ฎ๐ ๐บ๐ฎ๐๐ต.
Maybe you recognize it too โ the version of you that keeps giving past what your own body has stored, at work, in caretaking, in the hundred small ways life asks you to feed everyone else first. I'd ask you what I've had to ask myself this spring: what are your two fish? The thing you could let yourself keep, just for you, so there's a whole self to give away pieces of tomorrow.
I'm home in Haines for this stretch, trying, imperfectly, to do something similar โ some days more successfully than others. I'm guarding my in-person time with my chosen family here, the two fish I don't automatically share. I rest when the season allows for it, rather than pouring hours into being reachable everywhere, for everyone, all the time. I'm quieter, slower to respond, more selective about where my limited energy goes.
It is not because I love my online community less. It's the opposite. You are the reason I want to keep sharing, and that means managing my own winters, figuratively speaking, with the same math Kali is using right now: feed the parts of my life that keep me upright, so there's something whole left to bring back to everyone.
I miss you in my YouTube space, but I'd rather come back to you thin and true, the way Kali came back to the river, than not come back at all.
If Kali's found a place in your heart, she's available as a fine art print, sized for exactly this kind of wall. https://www.kimclune.com/bears
More love to come, here on YouTube, real soon!.
Kim
โ
I promised, three months ago, that I'd show up for you each week โ not just to share my art, but to let you know how I'm doing and how I'm feeling. I've kept that promise. This is one of twelve weekly emails I've written.
YouTube is a different story. I sometimes recoil from a space that's come to mean cancer to me, when all I want is to get outside and live. So I'm behind โ it'll take weeks to sort through footage from our NY to AK road trip and everything since. Hundreds of clips sit in my camera roll, waiting, the same way I know you've been.
Today, I'm finally finalizing the first leg!
But my email list is the one place I never miss โ even the weeks I don't feel well, even when I fail at everything else: YouTube, social media, all of it. So...
๐๐ผ๐บ๐ฒ ๐ด๐ฒ๐ ๐๐ป๐๐ฎ๐บ๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐๐ถ๐๐ต ๐บ๐ฒ:
๐ https://www.KimClune.com/get-untamed
AND, by popular request, back issues are now on that page too, just under the signup, waiting for you.
