Chapter 8
Eight
Any glimpse into the life of an animal quickens our own and makes it so much the larger and better in every way.
—John Muir
The sun began its descent behind the rugged peaks of the Grand Tetons, casting a warm amber glow across the landscape as Kate hurried toward the Jenny Lake Visitor Center. Twenty minutes ago, she had been knee-deep in the Gros Ventre River, clad in waders, attempting to capture the perfect shot of a beaver dam bathed in the golden hues of a long summer night. She loved these long twilights! Perfect lighting for so many shots of wildlife. And there was so much wildlife to be seen at dawn and at dusk.
She’d only been here for a few days, and she’d already learned so much. How to walk in a river wearing waders without tripping, for one. Stay away from where other photographers were camped out, for another. She was proud of herself. Oliver said she’d be running home after the first howl she heard. Well, she’d already heard plenty of howls, bugles, and eagle screeches.
But Kate had yet to photograph 399. It was a small comfort that no one else had, either. But only a small comfort, because that could mean the bear hadn’t survived the winter.
With no time for a shower or change of clothes, she drove to Jenny Lake and found one last open spot in the parking lot. Jenny Lake was an area she wanted to explore, so she planned to hike out here tomorrow. The visitor center was much smaller than she’d expected, cabin-like, and when she opened the door, she found it packed with people sitting on metal folding chairs.
Coop was at the front, near a large rock fireplace. Kate stood by the door, looking for a seat. The older ranger, the one she’d met this morning at the river, saw her and waved her to him. He pointed to an empty seat right up front. “Next to my granddaughter, Maisie.”
With a resigned shrug, Kate made her way to the front row, and Coop momentarily faltered. The fabric of her still-wet waders made a swish-swash sound as she walked. The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, and Kate could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on her. The gray-haired pigtailed woman made a snippy remark as Kate swish-swashed past her. “Take another dip with the otters before coming here?”
On the other side of the pigtailed woman was a friendly young face next to an empty chair. “I’m Maisie,” she said, patting the chair. “Pops told me to save a seat for a beautiful woman who loves bears.” She smiled at Kate, a big smile, full of metal braces.
Kate guessed the girl was around twelve or thirteen. She had an almost old-fashioned look about her: copper-colored hair tumbling down her back in a tangle of curls, sparkling blue eyes, and a round, freckled face with a slightly upturned nose. “Sorry to be late,” she whispered. “I lost track of time.” She settled into the chair and looked at Coop, whose eyes were still on her.
Coop gave his head a slight shake, then lifted his notes, as if trying to remember where he’d left off. Standing along the side of the room, Tim Rivers said, “You were telling us about the cozy world of bear hibernation, Ranger Coop.”
“Right,” Coop said. “Right.” He searched his notes, a streak of red rising along his cheeks.
Kate reached into her bag and took out a notepad and a pen. She hoped she hadn’t missed much. This topic of hibernation fascinated her. Such a mystery.
Coop kept looking through his notes as an awkward silence filled the room.
“Bears and me,” the older ranger said, “have something in common. When we find that perfect spot, we take our napping seriously.”
The audience chuckled, and Coop seemed to loosen up with the ranger’s light touch. “As I was saying,” he said, glancing briefly at Kate as he started again, “you might think hibernation is all about a long nap, but there’s much more to it. So let’s break down what happens during a bear’s winter hibernation. When it comes to choosing a den, bears go for remote, high-country locations, maybe a cave or a hollowed-out tree. It’s all about peace and quiet. And they usually return to the same den each year, like coming back to your favorite vacation spot.”
“Like Disney World,” Maisie said. “Even though I’ve never gone. I hear it’s awesome though.”
“Save your money,” Frankie said. He stood at the far end of the front row, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “It’s a complete rip-off. Long lines, overpriced churros. American capitalism at its worst.”
“You’re exactly right, Maisie.” Coop’s face softened as he addressed Maisie’s question, clearly fond of her.
That look was a little heart melting, Kate thought. Like a tough guy with a tender heart.
“ Most people”—now Coop cast a frowning side glance at Frankie—“love going to Disney World or Disneyland repeatedly. It’s familiar and enjoyable. That’s exactly how a bear considers its lair.
“Bears are the DIY kings of the animal kingdom,” Coop continued. “Each bear’s winter retreat can be as unique as their personality. Some might go all out on the den upgrades, while others keep it simple.”
Maisie clapped her hands together. “They give it their own personal touch!”
Down the row, Kate noticed how Frankie kept rolling his eyes at Maisie’s exuberance. When his eyes met Kate’s, he straightened up, a sheepish look on his face.
“Does anybody know what happens to a bear’s body during hibernation?” Coop’s gaze swept the room.
Maisie’s hand shot up. “Fun fact: A grizzly bear can gain up to four hundred pounds in preparation for hibernation!”
“You’re right, Maisie,” Coop said. “Anybody have something to add?”
No one did. Kate knew nothing about it. Bears in a zoo didn’t hibernate. No need to.
“When a bear finally settles in for the winter,” Coop said, “its heart rate drops to a mere five beats per minute.”
Maisie burst out with a laugh. “Whoa! That’s slower than my mom’s chilled-out yoga instructor!”
As chuckles rippled through the room, Coop shot Frankie a “don’t do it” look of warning before he could roll his eyes again.
“Exactly, Maisie,” Coop said. “It’s like they go into full chill-out mode. The real magic happens, at least for a pregnant sow, in January or February. Bears give birth in their dens. Mother Nature’s maternity ward right there.”
Kate raised her hand. “How does a bear know when spring has come?”
Coop’s eyes met hers, a subtle pause hanging in the air before he replied, “Excellent question. Bears have sensors in their eyes that detect the increased light, signaling their bodies to wake up.”
“Like,” Maisie said, “someone turns on a light and they wake up, ready for breakfast?”
Frankie’s eyes rolled around and around. Now Kate shot him a frown.
“Kind of,” Coop said. “Maybe, more slowly than a light switched on. They wake up hungry. Famished. And that’s the condition the bears are in right now, after this long winter. Male grizzlies emerge from their lair earlier than females. They’re looking for food. So if you encounter a bear while you’re in the park, and chances are that you will, remember a few bear safety tips. Rule number one—never surprise a bear.”
“Surprise a bear?” Maisie furrowed her brow. “But I thought bears were more scared of humans than we are of them.”
“Generally, bears will avoid people. But surprising them might trigger a fight-or-flight response. Hopefully, flight. So make your presence known. Talk or sing as you walk. Some hikers use bells on their packs.”
Kate took this all in.
“If you do see a bear, do not approach it. Stay at least one hundred yards away from it. That’s the length of a football field. Remain calm. Don’t run. A bear can outrun a horse, so you’d better believe that it can outrun you. Don’t make eye contact with it. Walk slowly backward, maybe start talking in a gentle way, so that it realizes you’re not threatening it. Most likely, the bear is only interested in protecting its cubs or guarding its food source. It might try bluffing.”
“Aww, cool!” Frankie said. “Bears play poker.”
Coop released a long-suffering sigh. “Bluffing means a bear will charge and stop. It might huff loudly at you. If so, it’s trying to warn you away.” He cleared his throat. “Finally, whatever you do, never feed a bear. Bears grow easily accustomed to human food and will become dangerous and unpredictable. Feeding bears causes them to lose their natural instinctive fear of humans and that’s when trouble happens. Remember the mantra—let wildlife be wild.”
“In other words,” Frankie said, “a fed bear is a dead bear.”
Maisie leaned forward to look down the row at him. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like.” Dramatically, Frankie drew a line across his neck.
“No!” Maisie gasped. “You don’t mean...”
“What he means,” Coop said in a tight voice, “is if a bear interacts too much with humans, it could end up having to be euthanized.”
“But that’s TERRIBLE,” Maisie said. “It’s not the bear’s fault! It’s the humans’ fault!”
“Ya got that right, kid,” Frankie said.
Still leaning forward in her chair, Maisie squinted at him. “I am not a kid.” She sat back and raised her hand high. “Coop, how often do bears attack people?”
“Statistically, it’s extremely rare.”
Frankie scoffed a laugh. “Not if it’s happening to you.”
Coop grimaced. “Again, bear attacks are extremely rare. They’re not out to get you.”
Maisie’s hand hit the sky again. “But if a bear does attack...”
“Attacks have usually happened because a bear was surprised. So remember the basics and you shouldn’t have any problems. Don’t hike alone. Talk or sing as you hike. Wear a loud whistle around your neck. Carry bear spray on your hip and know how to use it. Stay aware of your surroundings.” He cast a meaningful glance at Frankie. “For example, it would be foolish to wear earbuds and listen to loud music when you’re hiking.”
“How ’bout...” Frankie said, “eschewing the earbuds and just listening to loud music? That’s like a win-win. Perfect way to warn the bears that you’re coming through.” He grinned. “Unless bears like rock ’n’ roll.”
Maisie leaned over to Kate. “What does ‘eschew’ mean?”
“Forgo,” Kate said. “Skip ’em.”
“Why doesn’t he just say that?” Maisie’s hand shot up again, but Coop, clearly ready to wrap it up, ignored her.
He clapped his hands together. “There’s one last point I want to drill home tonight. It’s the most important one too. If you happen upon a sow with cubs, give them plenty of space. Never, ever get between a mother bear and her cubs. If you ever find yourself in that situation, say a prayer. You are in trouble.”
“He’s right. Lots of babies in our park right now. The phrase ‘mama bear’ ain’t for nothing.” A female ranger, small and petite with a squeaky little voice, walked up to Coop. “Let’s all thank Ranger Cooper for his fascinating talk about bears.”
Maisie clapped enthusiastically. “It was wonderful, Coop! You should give it every night!”
Coop’s face conveyed how terrible an idea he thought that was.
The little ranger took over, standing right in front of Coop. “I’m Sally Janus, acting chief ranger for the park. Don’t forget that you’re always welcome to ask a ranger anything. That’s what we’re here for. Thank you all for coming tonight. Ranger Cooper will be giving lots more ranger talks this summer, so check the schedule at the visitor center.”
Clearly, that was news to Coop. Kate had to swallow a smile at the shocked look on his face.
The small ranger lifted her hands in the air. “Enjoy your time here in the park, but always respect the wildlife.”
Kate reached down to pick up her camera bag, and by the time she sat back up, Frankie stood in front of her.
“Hello, Kate.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “We have to stop meeting like this.”
“Frankie!” Maisie jumped up. “I was hoping to see you tonight. Where were you all day? I rode Pops’s bike everywhere, but I couldn’t find you. How’s the internship going? Do you think I can shadow you and Coop sometime?”
As Maisie continued to fire questions at Frankie, Kate quietly slipped away into the crowd and out the door. Frankie the intern was the last person she wanted to see. She was still peeved at him for blabbing about her zoo background to the other photographers. The nickname “Zoo Girl” stung like nettles—leaving tiny barbs that pricked at her skin.
Tim Rivers made his way through the dispersing crowd after Coop’s ranger talk on bear safety. He spotted Sally near the edge of the group and approached her with a friendly smile. “Coop did a great job, didn’t he?” Tim said, gesturing toward where Coop was still answering questions for a few park visitors.
“He did just fine,” Sally said. “Tell him I appreciate his willingness to give a ranger talk at the last minute.”
“And you’re expecting more talks from him this summer?”
“Sure am. He’s good at them. He has a knack for engaging the audience and getting the message across.” Her gaze shifted to Frankie. “How’s that one doing as an intern for Coop?”
Frankie stood up front, hands in his pockets, looking bored. Maisie was chatting away to him, obviously enamored. Her schoolgirl crush on him was a worry to Tim. “Actually, I’m glad you asked. Frankie seems like a troubled kid.”
Sally scoffed. “I’ll say. Kicked out of three boarding schools.”
“You know, I’m not sure how fair this is to Coop. He’s stuck with him as both an intern and a roommate.”
Sally turned to him. “Coop can handle it. He understands teenagers better than most any other ranger. Goodness, he deals with kids all through the school year.”
Exactly why it didn’t seem fair to dump Coop with the burden of Frankie.
She leaned in a little. “You and I both know that Coop’s role really is to be a mentor to Frankie.”
“How do you mentor a kid who’s determined to be unmentorable?”
Sally waved that off. “Like I said, Coop can handle him.”
“Sally,” Tim said, pressing further, “why is this kid so important?”
Sally hesitated, her demeanor clouded with reservation. “Frankie’s father asked me personally to give the boy special treatment and attention.”
Tim raised an eyebrow. “Ah, I see. It’s about connections.”
Sally gave a rueful smile. “You know what it’s like, climbing the ladder, Tim. It gets harder and harder to reach that next rung.”
Then why do it? Tim wanted to ask. Why not be content with where you are in life? It’s a pretty good life we have here.
But he knew not to ask those questions out loud. This was the first relaxed conversation they’d had since she’d come back from the Yellowstone conference, and he wanted to get things back on track between them. “After I lock up, would you like to grab some coffee?”
“That sounds nice, Tim, hon.”
Calling him hon was just the encouragement he’d been needing. “We haven’t had a good talk in a while, Sally. I’ve missed our talks.” He noticed a softening in her expression, a hint of something unspoken in her eyes. He took a step closer. “I’ve missed you.” He took another step, but suddenly Maisie stood between them.
“Hi!” Maisie said, in her enthusiastic way. “Ranger Janus! I met you on the bike path today! Remember? Early this morning. Really early. I nearly ran Pops’s bike right into you and that super tall ranger.”
Why hadn’t Sally mentioned that? Tim talked about Maisie all the time. “What super tall ranger?” he asked.
Sally’s attention was on Maisie. “Of course I remember. You were riding your bike pretty fast, there.”
Maisie grinned. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m still learning how to manage Pops’s bike.”
Sally waved to a ranger across the room. “I see someone I need to go speak to.” She put one hand on Maisie’s arm and another on Tim’s. Two birds, one stone. “Nice to meet you, sugar. Slow down on that bike. I’ll have to take a rain check on that coffee, Tim.”
That sudden departure left Tim slightly puzzled. It was starting to become a familiar feeling after an encounter with Sally.
As soon as Coop finished answering questions for a group of women who planned to hike in the backcountry but were terrified of bears, he looked around the room for Kate. Disappointed, he realized she must have already left. He went outside the visitor center and peered around, then saw her standing by the open trunk of her car, fiddling with some camera equipment. He bolted over to the parking lot but slowed about fifteen feet away from her. To borrow a phrase from his irritating roommate, he should keep his cool on. “Oh, hey there, Kate.”
She turned at the sound of his voice, a surprised, then pleased look on her face. When he drew close, she said, “Great talk! But you didn’t mention her.”
“Who?”
“Grizzly Bear 399. Did I miss that part? I know I was late. Sorry about that.”
“No, you weren’t that late.” Just late enough for Coop to think she had blown it off, leaving him disappointed. When she did arrive, he completely lost his train of thought. He could feel his face warm up as she’d made her way to the front row. She had a kind of delightful yet annoying effect on him. Like he couldn’t quite trust himself around her.
“So why didn’t you talk about her?”
“Sally, the head ranger, said she didn’t want me to draw attention to 399. We don’t know yet if the bear made it through the winter. Sally thought I should focus on bear behavior and safety. So I did.” He cleared his throat. “I, uh, hope it was helpful.”
“It was. In fact, you did a great job.” Kate grinned. “I can see why she wants you to do more talks. You’re a natural at imparting information in an interesting way.”
Coop felt himself flush. It sounded like he’d been fishing for a compliment ... and the truth was that he had been. That self-awareness made him feel embarrassed. And when he got embarrassed, he acted gruff and tough. It was a teacher trick. “What exactly did you mean when you said you had something up your sleeve?”
Kate seemed genuinely puzzled. “Sorry?”
“You told me you have a trick up your sleeve, then you patted your camera bag.” His tone held a mix of curiosity and suspicion. Why was he trying to sound so rangerish? What was wrong with him? He was such an idiot.
She instinctively put a protective hand on her camera bag. “I’m not sure why you’re asking.”
“It’s just ... there’s been some talk of poachers in the park.” Coop mentally cringed. Did that really just come out of his mouth?
Kate stared at him, astounded. The air practically vibrated around them. “And you think I might be trying to kill Grizzly Bear 399? That wonderful, incredible, wild creature? You think”—she slapped a palm against her chest—“that I’d want to hurt her?”
Oh man. He’d hit a nerve. “No! No ... it’s just that...” What was wrong with him? “I’m just doing my job.”
Kate unzipped her camera bag and pulled out her camera. “It’s a Sony Alpha, with all kinds of amazing features.”
“Like what?”
“Like ... real-time Eye AF.”
Coop took the camera from her and examined it. “AF?”
“Autofocus. It’s incredibly fast. Even if an animal is moving, this camera locks on the subject’s eye with precision in real time.”
He tried to look like he knew what she was talking about. He had no idea.
“It’s also got High Resolution EVF.”
“Uh, remind me what EVF means?”
“Electronic viewfinder. Makes it easier to compose shots.”
This was all Greek to him. “In other words, this is the Cadillac of cameras.” Oof. That sounded stupid.
“More like a Tesla than a Cadillac.” She took it back from him and placed it carefully in her camera bag. “Technology moves at a swift pace, Ranger Cooper.”
“But you can’t approach the bear.” There he went again, sounding like a new sheriff in town.
Kate shot him a look that said, Do you really think I would do that? “I don’t plan to.”
The tension between them hung in the air, like a storm waiting to break.
“Then,” Coop said, “maybe I can help.”
How could this have happened? Wade felt a surge of frustration when Feldmann returned from Jackson without any clear idea about when the package that held Whisper could be rerouted. Even more exasperating was the equipment he did bring back. All he could think of was his beloved bow, somewhere on a truck or plane heading east.
Wade picked up the knife Feldmann had purchased and examined the edge. “This isn’t going to work.”
“Why not?”
“Not sharp enough.”
“For...”
“For the pelt, of course,” Wade replied, trying to keep his irritation in check.
“I thought we’d be hauling the carcass to a taxidermist. I even found a few names of ones in Jackson. Ones that were known for being discreet.”
Discreet. Wade couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “And how exactly did you plan to sneak a four-hundred-pound bear out of the park without raising any alarms with the rangers?”
“I was going to ask the turncoat to grease some palms. That’s worked before.”
“Absolutely not,” Wade said. The more people involved, the greater the chance for a slipup. “I don’t want the whole bear, just the pelt. Get a better knife. Get a couple of them.”
“Okay. I’ll get coolers for the organs too.”
“No, no coolers.”
Feldmann looked puzzled. “But isn’t that kind of wasteful? I have plenty of connections who’d be eager for harvests.”
“I just want the pelt.”
“Mr. Schmidt, you’re leaving money on the table.”
Wade couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of that remark. “This is one hunt, Feldmann, that has nothing to do with money.”