The late afternoon sun filtered through the tree tops of the dense lodgepole forest as the old grizzly moved silently over the carpet of pineneedles, pausing here and there to overturn a rock or rotting log and lap up the beetles that hid beneath. But these tiny insects only reminded the once great bear of just how hungry he really was. Hungry and tired . . . more tired than he ever remembered being. He needed to find something far more substantial than insects to ease the gnawing emptiness in his stomach. And find it soon, for the air was already turning cold, and more than once he had woke to find the ground covered with a thin layer of snow. And so he did not linger, but hurried on, step after aching step, slowly making his way south towards the valley that had once been his home. He knew he was close for he had already passed several familiar landmarks, trees that he had sharpened his claws on, and a couple of his favorite bedding places.
The lush valley had once belonged to him, back in his younger days when he had been in his prime, mighty and strong, able to defend his territory against the many other male grizzly's that would have taken his domain for their own. Many a battle had been fought for his land, a few with bloodshed, most with nothing more than a few gruff exchanges and intimidating looks. And intimidating he had been, an immense bear with a massive head and shoulders, and feet so enormous that a man could easily fit his boot into one of the bear's pawprints. His coat had been thick and luxurious in those days, a dark brown tipped with lighter golden hairs that gave him the grizzled appearance that his kind was known for. He had carried his head high and proud, and walked with a haughty gait that spoke without words of his hierarchy amongst the other bears of the grand Yellowstone.
Now he was only a ghost of the bear he had once been, old and arthritic, head hung low, weakened by a long summer of scavenging the mountainsides and valleys for the remains of other's kills, defeated by the loss of his once high reign.
As the bear emerged from the cover of the forest, he paused and raised his head, checking the air currents for signs of potential danger, and even more, for the scent of death and a potential meal. He stood here for a few moments taking in the valley before him before he started making his way down the rocky hillside. If the old bear was aware he was being watched, he showed no sign.
Across the valley, on a small slope about twenty feet above the narrow road sat a lone observer, a man dressed in blue jeans and a forest-green jacket, a black stocking cap hiding his thinning hair. This had been Parker's favorite vantage point for the last sixteen years, ever since he'd made his first trip into Yellowstone. From where he sat he had a clear view all the way down to the meandering river, and from there up over the rolling slopes to the dense forest. He came here often, sometimes three or four times a week, and seldom did he leave disappointed. This evening, he hoped for one last look at the large grizzly that had frequented this valley on and off over the last two years. He knew that soon the bear would be heading for higher country and it's winter den, but not yet. The bear had made a kill sometime yesterday, a large bull elk weakened from the fall rut, and Parker expected the bear would be laid up somewhere near the carcass.
Parker wanted desperately to see the bear one last time before he left, since he feared this would be his final visit to the park. Just last week he had been given his death sentence. . . cancer. The doctor had reviewed his options with him, chemotherapy, radiation, but in Parker's mind these were out of the question. He had seen too many of his friends fight the same war and lose. He would not go through the same battle. When his time came, he would go quietly to meet his maker.
He raised his binoculars and focused on the area where he knew the dead elk lay, partially hidden under a covering of grass. After watching for a few moments and seeing no sign of the bear, he slowly scanned the surrounding terrain. He paused to watch a small herd of bison grazing in the distance, no more than fifteen or twenty head he guessed, before he moved on. After scanning the lower elevations, he focused his gaze up to where the meadow met the forest. Maybe, he thought to himself, he'd get lucky and catch sight of a few members of the wolf pack that roamed the valley. He hadn't seen them in over a week, but with a fresh kill in the area, it was possible they were nearby.
He was just about to put the binoculars down and pour himself a cup of coffee when a movement caught his attention. He sat forward slightly and focused on the place where he thought he had seen the movement, but was unable to catch sight of it again. Patiently he waited, hoping that it was not the shadows of early evening playing tricks on him. His persistence paid off for soon the animal, he was fairly sure it was a bear but it was too far away to be sure with the lower powered binoculars, reappeared over an embankment and continued traveling toward the river. It looked as though it was heading directly toward the elk kill.
Parker stood and stepped up to his spotting scope and pointed it in the direction from which he had last seen the bear. When he had the lens focused to his satisfaction, he watched carefully and to his amazement saw that it was a bear, but not the one he had expected. He had anticipated it would be the large boar that had he had seen at the kill the previous night, the same one that he had watched on and off all summer and the summer before. But this bear was darker, and not nearly the size of the other grizzly. Parker noticed too, that from the way he ambled along, he wasn't exactly in the best of shape, especially not for this time of year. The longer he watched, the more he realized that this bear was extremely thin, dangerously undernourished. This bear, he thought sadly, like himself would never live to see another spring.
When the bear reached the last twenty or thirty feet before the kill, he stopped for a moment and slowly raised up on his hind legs and looked around. As Parker watched, a slow smile spread over his face. He knew this bear, though he doubted he'd have recognized him if it weren't for the telltale chunk missing from his left ear. It was ol' Jack. He'd expected the old bear would have perished by now. But here he was, back on his old home ground. Parker watched as the bear lowered itself back to all fours, then hurriedly went to the elk carcasse and begin to feed.
Ol' Jack, he could hardly believe it. This was the bear that he had loved, the one that kept him coming back over and over to this same spot in the hopes of catching a glimpse of him. He'd watched this bear mature from a young inexperienced two-year-old into a magnificent adult. Parker'd seen many grizzlies in his lifetime, but none that had ever held him in such awe as Jack had. Year after year he'd returned to the valley to watch Jack stalk and hunt elk, root for ground squirrels, and sometimes just laze around or play by the river. Many times Parker had shared his spotting scope, as well as his knowledge of the great bear, with other onlookers. Jack, whether he knew it or not, had not only entertained, but had also inspired countless people to take an active interest in the plight of the Grizzly.
And then two years ago, he'd just disappeared, apparently run off by the younger grizzly that now overruled the valley. Parker remembered how he had felt as though he'd lost a close friend that year. He remembered the countless times he'd scanned the hillsides in the hopes of seeing the old bear, and how he'd finally resigned himself to the fact that he was gone for good.
And now here he was again, back one last time. Only now, Parker realized that this was worse. He'd have much rather remembered his old friend the way he last saw him, noble and strong, . . . a fighter and in some ways even a hero. Parker took one last look at the sad old skeleton of a bear tearing hungrily at the elk then decided to pack up his scope and head home. This was not the way he had planned to end the season, and definitely not the memory he wanted to carry with him.
He was just about to step back when he saw something that caught his breath. The big boar that had brought down the elk had just stepped into his view. He was moving towards the carcass when he stopped dead in his tracks and sniffed the air.
Parker felt his heartbeat speed up. He watched as ol' Jack continued to feed, so intent on filling his stomach that he was oblivious to the danger behind him. The big grizzly lowered his head, then swayed back and forth on his two front legs. Suddenly in a huge burst he exploded into motion and ran madly at ol' Jack.
Parker figured that ol' Jack would catch sight of the bear and try to high tail it for the hills, but he didn't. Instead of fleeing from his attacker as Parker'd expected, ol' Jack raised up and turned to meet his assailant. Transfixed, Parker watched as the two bears went to battle, making such a noise as he'd never heard before. As he watched, ol' Jack took hit after hit, but never once backed down or showed any sign of trying to retreat. He was back on his ground and he meant to fight to the end.
The fight was savage, but it didn't last long, . . . ol' Jack just didn't have the strength to stand up to the younger bear. When it was over, Jack lay motionless on the ground. The younger grizzly sniffed the lifeless bear's body, then walked back to the carcasse and began to feed.
Parker sat back down in the fading sunlight and poured a cup of coffee from his thermos. He realized he had just witnessed the end of an era. Ol' Jack was gone, but he'd met death fighting, his dignity intact. Somehow or other, that was better, a more fitting end for his old friend. He smiled. Perhaps tomorrow he'd give his Doctor a call. And maybe, God willing, he'd be back again next season.
