In 1993 a program aired in Western Australia showing bile being extracted from moon bears in a way that was excruciatingly painful. Mary Hutton was willing and able to make a change that has saved over 1000 bears to this day.

Moon bears are one of the threatened bear species in Asia, aptly named for the white crescent moon shape adorning their chests. Their digestive fluid stored in their gallbladder, known as bile, is used in Chinese medicine practices.

What Mary saw on the news one afternoon in the early 1990s changed the trajectory of her life. “I couldn’t
get it out of my head.” Mary’s face is grim with the recollection. Carefully crimsoned lips a thin line.

Mary came home from work that afternoon, put the kettle on and settled down to catch a midday movie. Mary was content with her life and her cup of tea. Until the news flashed images of bear bile farms in China. Mary was determined to put it out
of her head, but as the day bustled on, the indecency of the images persisted.

Later she was making dinner when her son, Simon, came in and said: “Mum, have you seen this? What’s happening in China with the bears?” Simon just wouldn’t drop the subject, he asked, “well, what are you going to do about it Mum?”

He probably supposed, like so many other times, that his Mum would have all the answers. Or maybe he saw something in her that she was yet to see herself. Mary said she’d replied “Absolutely nothing at the moment, what can one do.” As far as she was concerned, China could have been on the moon.

Mary couldn’t sleep that night. But she thought of something she could do, she could collect some signatures. “You’re mad if you go doing that,” her mother said to her that morning. But by that afternoon, out the front of Karrinyup shops, Mary had
a cue of people waiting to sign her simple piece of paper. The next day, there was an article in the Sunday paper, bold ink bellowing ‘mother battles for bears.’

“That was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” Mary says, “if I had sat there, I’d be perfectly comfortable, but if I got up on my two feet, I’d have to do something.”

Over 30 years on, that ‘something’ is working across five countries and more than 1000 sun, moon and sloth bears saved.

Director of Free the Bears, Matt Hunt, thinks the world of Mary.

Matt took his position in 2007, overseeing major growth in Mary’s once fledgling idea. Today, sanctuaries operate in Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam, where over 350 bears reside peacefully in lush enclosures, living lives free from fear and pain.

In May of this year, the biggest rescue and permanent closure of a bear bile farm in the world to date took place: 27 bears were saved. Imagine telling Mary that this could be achieved when she stood alone 33 years ago.

Matt had the number 27 tattooed in memorandum and triumph. So does Perth Zookeeper and Free the Bears volunteer Holly Thompson. Hers is adorned with bear ears.

Even though the sun is hidden behind heavy rain clouds, Holly’s face is alight as she recounts the rescue. “Logistically it was huge, the largest in southeast Asia’s history, and in the quickest time frame.”

With only two weeks to prepare, they had no site visits or ability to assess the moon bears’ conditions. “We didn’t even know until we got there that the bears would still be there,” when the team arrived they found 27 bears and 173 cages waiting to
claim more.

Holly welcomed each and every bear onto the truck. All she had was a watering can, but the bears eagerly took to drinking and cooling themselves under its shower.

The convoy of vehicles, infrastructure and volunteers from all corners of the world had braved the scorching Laos heat to ensure all the bears were safely transported to the Luang Prabang Wildlife Sanctuary.

Holly admits she claimed a favourite — Janice. She grins as a picture of the moon bear lights her phone screen. Janice lounges on a sky-blue woven hammock in her new home. Deep ochre walls frame the image as she lolls happily, paws outstretched at last.

As we talk, Perth Zoo’s male sun bear, Jamran strolls across the enclosure he shares with female sun bear Bopha. A curved claw hooks the handle of a treat dispenser ball, with impressive dexterity he accesses the hidden goodness, before
contentedly ambling away.

Once hog-tied to a stake outside a restaurant, awaiting his fate as bear paw soup, he is now happily showing off his charming muzzle of salt and pepper fur to Perth Zoo visitors.

“Jamran is just a real lovely gentleman,” Holly says as the bear’s stubby tail disappears around the corner.

How could such personable, resilient, sweet animals be subject to such utter cruelty?

The answer appears to be a mixture of poverty and a lack of education. When Mary was called in 2001 by co-founder of historic Free the Bears partner, Wildlife SOS, Geeta Seshamani, she quickly understood this.

Wildife SOS began in similar fashion to Free the Bear, with founders Kartick Satyanarayan and Geeta Seshamani using grit and determination to save animals and enhance conservation, this time, in India.

Greta had contacted Mary to help stop the exploitation of sloth bears in India, often called ‘dancing bears.’

“One lesson you had to learn, was to learn the poverty,” Mary laments. For 400 years, the Kalander people made their living as itinerant entertainers. A sloth bear would be taken from the forest, a metal ring forced through its septum and a rope
attached. They would be made to dance and perform tricks.

In the early 2000s economy, this practice and the measly tourist dollar it drew became the only way they could live.

But how could someone commit such an act? Well, as Mary states, “what the hell would you do to feed your family?”

To rescue these bears, without condemning their ‘owners’ to an even more desperate life of poverty, Mary and her team decided on a solution. Seed money allowed people to start other businesses and in return, they gave up their bears. The
Agra Bear Rescue Facility in India ballooned into the largest sloth bear rescue facility in the world.

“All of a sudden, it turned around that we weren’t only helping the bears, we were helping the people,” Mary says.

Seven years after that first call, Mary got an early Christmas present. She travelled to India to cut the rope off Raju, India’s last dancing bear.

She explains: “These people are not evil, they were desperate. No one suffered because of what we did.” Mary’s eyes cloud with tears as she recalls the last words the man who had ‘owned’ Raju had said to him.

“He came in, leading the bear by the rope, and he said to the bear in Hindu goodbye my darling bear, I’m going home and so are you.”

Mary recalls the first time she went overseas to see the bears and all she had achieved. She was visiting the sanctuary in Thailand, when a bear fell asleep in the sun, grass fanning around her full belly.

“It was the best thing I’ve ever seen. It was beautiful. I said to Simon, if we don’t do anything else, at least we have done this.” Mary smiles. She glances over to the toy sun bear adorning her nightstand. Tonight, the news won’t show Mary’s bears suffering.

Tonight, she can sleep well, as her charitable foundation continues its work, rescuing and rehabilitating bears: a story marking milestones, but still far from over.