Between 2005 and 2015, American zoos experienced what could be described as a golden age for polar bear exhibits. In just a single decade, nine major AZA-accredited institutions unveiled state-of-the-art habitats for
Ursus maritimus:
Pittsburgh Zoo’s Water’s Edge (2006),
Memphis Zoo’s Northwest Passage (2006),
Como Park Zoo’s Polar Bear Odyssey (2010),
Columbus Zoo & Aquarium’s Polar Frontier (2010),
Brookfield Zoo Chicago's Great Bear Wilderness (2010),
Kansas City Zoo’s Polar Bear Passage (2010),
San Diego Zoo’s renovated Conrad Prebys Polar Bear Plunge (2010),
Utah’s Hogle Zoo’s Rocky Shores (2012), and
Saint Louis Zoo’s McDonnell Polar Bear Point (2015). For a time, it felt as if every major city wanted its own modern polar bear facility. These projects represented a "sea change" in exhibit design—environments built around ice caves, saltwater pools, underwater tunnels, and climate-change interpretation. They were no longer the stark, sterile enclosures of the past, but immersive naturalistic landscapes that placed the polar bear in context as both predator and symbol of the Arctic’s fragility. One could argue these exhibit's were becoming a new "standard."
The investment was massive and the optimism real. Polar bears had long been one of the most iconic and crowd-drawing species in zoos, and for a generation of planners, the new habitats were a way to blend conservation storytelling with spectacular design. Yet, just as the exhibits reached their peak, the population itself began to contract. As
@Great Argus pointed out, breeding success remained frustratingly elusive—pairings were inconsistent, conceptions rare, and cub survival uneven. At the same time, U.S. zoos found themselves increasingly caring for rescued brown bears, particularly orphaned cubs from Alaska and Montana that were deemed non-releasable. Many of the new “polar bear” facilities were built with flexible infrastructure—deep pools, chilled dens, rugged topography—that could accommodate either polar or brown bears. Slowly, over the following decade, the balance began to shift. The grand Arctic habitats that once symbolized a new frontier for polar bear management became, in many cases, shared or even repurposed homes for brown bears.
What emerged was a paradox: more space than ever before, but fewer bears to fill it. Some zoos that had anticipated housing multiple polar bears ended up with just one individual or transitioned entirely to brown bears. The problem wasn’t lack of institutional interest; it was biology, logistics, and federal regulation. The U.S. population of polar bears has hovered at around fifty individuals, scattered across roughly twenty institutions, with few of breeding age or capability. Import restrictions from the wild make new founders nearly impossible, and with limited genetic diversity, reproductive momentum has been difficult to build. In this context, the once-expanding network of exhibits has become an exercise in triage—deciding where the limited number of bears can best thrive, reproduce, and serve their ambassador role.
This year, a new management philosophy has started to take shape. Following the transition of the Polar Bear Species Survival Plan (SSP) into a federally coordinated management program, the
AZA and
U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service have begun working more closely to realign the national population. The focus has shifted toward consolidation—grouping compatible bears at a smaller number of strategically selected institutions equipped for long-term breeding and advanced husbandry. These hubs possess the infrastructure and husbandry expertise to support breeding efforts long-term. Transfers have become more frequent, not as ad hoc exchanges but as deliberate moves to optimize pairing opportunities and behavioral compatibility. The recent transfers of Amelia Gray and Nora out of the Oregon Zoo, along with the arrival of a new male there, reflect this new reshuffling process. The goal is to create viable breeding clusters rather than isolated ambassador bears.
This shift in strategy will also force many zoos to make hard choices about how they use their bear habitats. Facilities that were originally designed as flexible “Great Bear” spaces—capable of housing either species—will likely be asked to specialize. Some will phase out their brown bears entirely to dedicate that space to expanded or reconfigured polar bear habitats, creating room for breeding pairs and cub rearing. Others, particularly those with older infrastructure or limited breeding capacity, may instead become designated retirement homes for brown bears and non-breeding individuals. This division of purpose will help clarify the national collection: a smaller number of institutions focused on sustaining polar bears through coordinated breeding, and another group providing lifelong sanctuary for rescued or geriatric brown bears that can no longer live in the wild.
This new phase in management acknowledges both the limitations and the opportunities of the current moment. Rescued cubs from Alaska still play an important role, adding young, genetically valuable individuals to the population even if they cannot return to the wild. Research into reproductive physiology continues, with zoos experimenting in hormone tracking, artificial insemination, and environmental cues to stimulate breeding cycles. Yet even with these innovations, the focus has shifted from expansion to stabilization. The priority now is maintaining a healthy, behaviorally enriched population that can sustain itself demographically for the foreseeable future.
Looking back, the decade-long surge of polar bear exhibits can be seen as both visionary and premature—a burst of optimism that outpaced the realities of small-population management. Still, those habitats remain some of the most impressive in North America, and they now provide an invaluable safety net for the species’ long-term future. The next few years will likely see continued transfers, a sharper focus on breeding coordination, and perhaps fewer total zoos housing polar bears—but those that do will be leading the way with science, design, and care practices refined over two decades of lessons learned. The boom years built the infrastructure; the coming years will determine whether the bears themselves can truly reclaim it.
