Sleeping with Your Best Buddies: The Story of Jim Kowalczik and His Rescued Bears.
What could possibly go wrong when your nap partners weigh 800 pounds, have claws the size of your hands, and could outrun a racehorse? For Jim Kowalczik, founder of the Orphaned Wildlife Center in Otisville, New York, the answer is simple: absolutely nothing—because love, respect, and years of trust have made him family to the very bears he once rescued.
Jim’s story began not with a grand plan, but with a calling. He and his wife, Susan, shared a deep affection for wildlife, particularly animals who had suffered or been displaced. In 2010, that compassion grew into something remarkable: a bear orphanage, a sanctuary where injured or orphaned bears could live safely, free from fear and exploitation.
Most of the bears who arrive at Jim’s center have tragic pasts. Some lost their mothers to hunters. Others were abandoned after being kept as illegal pets. Many come frightened, confused, and deeply distrustful of humans. But Jim, with his calm voice and endless patience, gives them something they’ve never had before—security.
Each morning begins with a routine that’s equal parts labor and love. Jim hauls buckets of food—fruit, fish, vegetables, and honey—to feed the bears, calling each one by name: Jimmy
After feeding, there’s grooming and cleaning. Jim brushes their thick coats, checks for ticks or scratches, and makes sure each bear’s enclosure is safe and comfortable. The days are long, the work physically demanding, but Jim wouldn’t trade it for anything.
And then come the moments that capture hearts around the world—the naps.
Videos of Jim resting beside his massive bears have become viral sensations, not just for their novelty, but for their quiet tenderness. In one now-famous clip, Jim lies sprawled in the grass, surrounded by three enormous brown bears. One rests a paw the size of a dinner plate gently over his shoulder; another snuggles close, closing its eyes. Jim chuckles softly, pats their fur, and within minutes, all of them drift into a nap—man and beast, breathing in rhythm, safe in each other’s company.
For most people, the idea of lying down among predators would seem reckless. But to Jim, it’s the purest form of connection. “They know I love them,” he once said in an interview. “You can’t fake that. You have to earn it.”
That bond didn’t happen overnight. When bears first arrive at the sanctuary, they’re often skittish. Jim gives them time, letting them observe him from a distance. He talks to them, hums, and moves slowly so they learn he’s not a threat. It can take weeks, sometimes months, for a bear to accept human touch. But when they do, the transformation is extraordinary.
What’s perhaps most remarkable about Jim’s approach is how natural it all feels. There’s no sense of ownership—only partnership. The bears aren’t tamed; they’re respected. Jim doesn’t try to make them pets or performers. Instead, he helps them reclaim the lives stolen from them, while ensuring they can live out their days in peace and dignity.
His work is about more than physical survival—it’s about emotional healing. Many of the bears come with deep-seated trauma. Some have been neglected in captivity; others witnessed the loss of family. At the orphanage, they rediscover trust—not just in people, but in themselves. They play, swim, climb trees, and nap in the sun. Slowly, the wild sparkle returns to their eyes.
Susan, Jim’s wife and partner in this mission, often says her husband has a gift. “He doesn’t see what’s dangerous. He sees what’s possible.” Watching him stroke the muzzle of a bear twice his size, it’s clear what she means.
Over time, Jim has become something of a folk hero in the animal world—a real-life gentle giant who’s rewritten what coexistence can look like. Scientists, conservationists, and animal lovers from around the globe have visited the Orphaned Wildlife Center to witness the extraordinary harmony he’s built. His videos, posted online, have garnered millions of views and inspired countless people to see wildlife with new eyes.
When asked if he’s ever afraid, Jim always smiles. “They’re my family,” he says. “Fear doesn’t live here. Respect does.”
At the end of each long day, as the sun dips behind the treeline and the forest hums with crickets, Jim often lies down beside one of the bears. Their breathing slows. The world grows quiet. There, in that improbable stillness—human and bear side by side—something almost sacred happens.
It’s a reminder that trust, once earned, can bridge even the widest gap between species. That kindness is a language all living beings understand.
Jim Kowalczik’s life isn’t glamorous. It’s not built on wealth or fame. But in his corner of the world, surrounded by fur, forest, and faith, he’s created something rare: a home where love outweighs fear, and even the wildest hearts can rest easy.
So the next time someone asks, “What could possibly go wrong sleeping next to bears?”—Jim already knows the answer. Nothing at all, when what lies between you and them is trust.
She stood where no one dared — at the very top of the world.
In a world where almost everything can be faked — filters, green screens, digital illusions — one woman stood nearly a kilometer above the ground to remind us what real courage looks like. Her name is
At 828 meters (2,722 feet) high, the Burj Khalifa is taller than three Eiffel Towers stacked end to end. The air is thin, the winds unpredictable, and the world below looks like a miniature model of itself. To most, the idea of standing on its spire — no wider than a dinner plate — would be unthinkable. But to Nicole, it was a challenge worth facing.
The ad begins innocently enough: a close-up of a flight attendant in Emirates’ iconic uniform, holding a set of cue cards with a message that reads, “Moving the UAE to the UK Amber list has made us feel on top of the world.” The camera slowly pans out — and keeps panning — until the truth hits: she’s not on a platform, not on a rooftop, but standing on the tip of the Burj Khalifa itself, surrounded by clouds and sky.
For a moment, the viewer’s brain rejects what it’s seeing. It must be CGI, a green screen, an illusion crafted by editing software. But it isn’t. The scene is entirely real.
Nicole Smith-Ludvik, a professional skydiving instructor, yoga teacher, and extreme athlete from the United States, had trained for years to master the balance between control and surrender — skills that would serve her perfectly for this once-in-a-lifetime challenge. She was chosen for the ad not only because of her poise and professionalism but because of her ability to remain utterly calm in situations where most people would freeze in terror.
The production took months of preparation, involving a team of engineers, safety specialists, and camera operators who had to choreograph every second of the shoot. The logistics alone were staggering: the crew had to gain access to the spire, design custom safety harnesses, and create an anchor system that could guarantee absolute security. Nicole’s harness was anchored to the spire itself — invisible in the final footage but strong enough to hold a car.
Even with all those precautions, the climb was perilous.
To reach the top, Nicole had to ascend the narrow metal spire, climbing through cramped ladders inside the structure and then emerging into the open air. The final section was so narrow that only one person could fit at a time. When she stepped onto the very top — roughly the size of a large pizza box — there was no room for error. One wrong movement, one sudden gust of wind, could have turned a cinematic triumph into tragedy.
And yet, when the cameras rolled, she stood tall — poised, steady, and impossibly calm.
As Nicole held up the cue cards, high above Dubai’s skyline, her expression was serene. She didn’t fidget. She didn’t tremble. Behind her, the sky stretched endlessly in every direction. It was both terrifying and beautiful — a moment of pure, fearless stillness.
To capture that perfect shot, Emirates coordinated an A380 aircraft — one of the largest passenger planes ever built — to fly around the Burj Khalifa at close range. Flying a massive plane near the world’s tallest structure required precise calculations and coordination with Dubai Air Traffic Control.
The A380 circled the spire 11 times, flying at an altitude of just 828 meters and at a speed of 145 knots (about 167 mph) — unusually slow for an aircraft of that size. From the ground, the scene looked surreal: a plane gliding gracefully through the clouds as a lone woman stood above it all, framed against the morning light.
The footage that resulted was one of the most breathtaking advertisements ever made — not because of digital trickery, but because of the human courage behind it. Emirates’ message was simple but powerful: “Sometimes, to show the world your strength, you have to stand above it.”
Nicole later shared her experience on social media, writing:
“This was, without a doubt, one of the most amazing and surreal experiences of my life. Standing on top of the world’s tallest building, feeling the wind in my face, I knew this was something special — something that would inspire people to see what’s possible when you trust yourself.”
The ad became an instant global sensation. People from around the world praised not only the daring concept but also Nicole’s composure. Many called her “the bravest woman on Earth.” Others said the video reignited their sense of wonder — a reminder that courage isn’t the absence of fear, but the decision to act in spite of it.
Even seasoned thrill-seekers were astonished. Fellow skydivers and stunt performers remarked on the precision and calm required to perform under such extreme conditions. “At that height,” one expert explained, “you’re dealing with unpredictable wind currents. A gust of just 10 mph can make balance nearly impossible. To remain composed enough to hold still, smile, and perform — that’s extraordinary.”
Nicole’s feat wasn’t just a stunt; it was a message to the world. In a time when most of us live grounded — by fear, by comfort, by routine — she stood quite literally above it all, showing that there’s still a place for audacity, for adventure, for the raw pursuit of the extraordinary.
Her performance on the Burj Khalifa became more than an advertisement — it became an emblem of human possibility. It reminded us that some stories aren’t written in boardrooms or on computer screens; they’re written in the sky, where only the brave dare to stand.
And for Nicole Smith-Ludvik, it wasn’t about fame or recognition. It was about doing something that felt bigger than herself — something that would echo far beyond a commercial or a moment of viral fame.
As she later said, “Fear is real — but so is courage. You just have to decide which one leads.”
