On the icy fringes of Russia’s far eastern coast, a remarkable wildlife spectacle has unfolded, captivating scientists, photographers, and nature lovers worldwide. In September 2025, photographer Vadim Makhorov, known for his striking Arctic imagery, stumbled upon a living tableau that seemed almost too surreal for reality: a group of polar bears had taken up residence in an abandoned Soviet research station on Kolyuchin Island, a remote outpost in the Chukchi Sea, nearly seven miles off the Chukotka Peninsula and facing Alaska across the Bering Strait.
Makhorov, traveling by ship en route to Wrangel Island, was initially filming the stark, windswept landscape when he noticed movement among the deserted buildings. What he saw through his drone’s lens was astonishing: around twenty polar bears, some lounging on porches, others peering through window frames or basking in the rare Arctic sun, had transformed the ghostly remains of the old weather station into their own bear-sized suburb. According to the Associated Press, Makhorov’s drone footage offers an intimate look at the bears’ daily lives—resting, socializing, yawning, and occasionally swiping curiously at the drone itself.
“Bears are no strangers to the feeling of comfort and coziness,” Makhorov wrote in a social media post, as reported by AP. “They perceive homes as shelter.” He added with a touch of humor, “Polar bears like to occupy houses. This happens not only in Kolyuchin. Any polar base with open doors runs the risk of acquiring new furry inhabitants.”
Since the collapse of the Soviet Union in the early 1990s, Kolyuchin Island’s research station has stood empty, its windowless buildings and scattered debris a silent testament to a different era. But as climate change alters the Arctic’s rhythms, the island has found new, unexpected tenants. As People magazine highlighted, polar bears—typically solitary creatures—have been spotted gathering in abandoned human structures across the region, seeking both shelter and, perhaps, safety as their icy hunting grounds shrink.
Makhorov’s footage, widely shared on Facebook and Instagram, shows the bears at ease in their reclaimed domain. One bear can be seen basking in sunlight inside a doorway, while others rest on the steps or even look out of windows as if surveying their new territory. The images, published by Daily Mail, also capture the bears exploring the surrounding terrain, weaving between the deserted buildings and bits of debris scattered across the 11-kilometer-long island. “What an interesting neighborhood!” Makhorov remarked, noting the proximity of a walrus rookery nearby—a potential source of food for the bears.
But the bears’ presence on Kolyuchin Island is more than just a quirky wildlife anecdote; it’s a stark reflection of the changing Arctic. As Makhorov pointed out in one of his Instagram posts, the lack of sea ice—a consequence of rising temperatures—has driven these normally solitary animals to congregate in unusual places. “The lack of ice is likely what drew the polar bears together,” he wrote. With their traditional hunting grounds diminished, the bears are forced to adapt, seeking refuge in abandoned buildings until the ice returns and they can once again disperse across the frozen sea.
This phenomenon isn’t unique to Kolyuchin. According to Daily Mail, polar bears have previously taken over other Arctic weather stations, such as the 2016 incident on Troynoy Island in the Kara Sea, where scientists were besieged by a group of bears and had to be supplied with dogs and flares for protection. In these encounters, the ingenuity of both humans and bears is on full display. To deter unwanted bear visitors, researchers have resorted to installing bars with spikes on windows and laying boards with nails—so-called “bear slippers”—in front of doors. The bears, for their part, seem to recognize these deterrents and generally avoid injury, simply steering clear of the obstacles.
Makhorov’s observations echo a broader trend noted by Arctic researchers: as human activity recedes from certain remote outposts, wildlife often moves in, sometimes with surprising speed. “Before you feel calm on the base, you need to walk and look at every house, make some noise so that the bears move away from people,” Makhorov explained in another post. The bears’ adaptability is remarkable, but it also underscores the pressures they face as the Arctic environment transforms.
There’s a certain irony, too, in the timing of Makhorov’s discovery. As The Washington Post pointed out, the internet has been flooded with AI-generated videos of bears performing human-like activities—often charming, but entirely fictional. Makhorov’s footage, by contrast, captures the real thing: polar bears behaving in ways that are both instinctual and surprisingly relatable. Whether basking in the sun or yawning on a porch, the bears seem at home, blurring the line between wild and domestic in a way that resonates far beyond the Arctic.
Yet, for all their apparent comfort, the reality for these bears is precarious. As sea ice continues to retreat, polar bears must travel farther and adapt more creatively to survive. The abandoned buildings of Kolyuchin Island offer temporary respite, but they are no substitute for the vast frozen expanses on which these animals depend. Scientists warn that such scenes, while fascinating, are also a sign of ecological stress—a reminder of the urgent challenges facing Arctic wildlife in a warming world.
For now, though, the polar bears of Kolyuchin Island remain undisturbed, their daily routines captured in breathtaking detail by Makhorov’s lens. The images have sparked global fascination, offering a rare glimpse into the resilience and adaptability of one of the planet’s most iconic species. And as the ice begins to return, the bears will likely disperse once more, leaving behind only footprints in the snow—and a haunting reminder of the fragile balance between nature and the traces of human presence in the far North.