I Survived the Attack of the Grizzlies, 1967 Read online

  He patted Mel’s hand. “I’m sorry you were scared, kiddo. But I wouldn’t worry about that grizzly.”

  Mel’s temper flared up again. Because she was pretty sure she should be worried.

  “Can you at least tell us why it was acting like that?” Mel asked. “Do you think I could have done something?”

  “I wasn’t there,” the ranger said. “But from the other stories, it sounds like this bear’s just a little … off. Like I said, I wouldn’t worry about it.” Then he stepped back from the counter; he was done with this conversation.

  Mel was fuming as they walked back to the parking lot. They were almost at the car when a voice called to them.

  “Wait!”

  It was the young man with the beard.

  He hurried over. “You’re right about that grizzly,” he said to Mel, catching his breath. “It’s dangerous. Very dangerous.”

  Aunt Cassie and Mel waited to hear more.

  “And it’s not just that one bear. There’s a big problem here at Glacier. If something isn’t done soon, someone’s going to get killed.”

  The man’s name was Stephen Weiss. He was a wildlife scientist, studying grizzly bears. He worked at the University of Montana. He told them all about his work as they sat outside the snack bar of the Lake McDonald Lodge. It was the big hotel across the lake from the ranger station. Aunt Cassie had suggested that Steve join them for lunch. Because it turned out they had a lot to talk about.

  They bought food and brought it to a picnic table near the lake. The water was so still it looked like a piece of light-blue glass.

  Mel ignored her cheeseburger and opened up a bag of Bugles. She popped one of the cone-shaped corn chips into her mouth. They were a brand-new kind of snack and were all the rage at school this year.

  “I want to know everything about the grizzly that followed you last night,” Steve said. He’d pushed aside his burger and bottle of Coke to make room for a notebook. He scribbled away with his pen as Mel told him how the grizzly appeared from the woods and wound up on the porch.

  “You did exactly the right thing,” Steve said, looking impressed. “You stayed calm. I don’t think that bear was going to attack you.”

  “But the way it rose up like that …” Mel said with a shudder.

  “That’s actually not usually an aggressive stance,” he said. “Bears stand up on their hind legs to get a better look at things. But if you had run … or if it had gotten into the cabin, I really don’t know. Grizzlies are unpredictable. But I’d say you’re lucky.”

  Steve asked her how the bear looked, smelled, and sounded. He was especially interested in the claws.

  “How long were they?” he asked.

  Mel thought for a minute. She stared at one of her Bugles, then slipped it over her finger. It looked to be about an inch long.

  “Way longer than this,” she said, holding up her Bugle-topped finger.

  Steve nodded as he wrote. “That makes sense. Grizzlies use their claws to dig for roots and little animals under the ground. It sounds like that grizzly isn’t doing much digging.”

  Steve asked her a few more questions and then finally closed his notebook.

  “All summer there have been an unusually high number of reports of aggressive grizzlies,” he said, picking up his burger. “You’re not the only one who’s had a frightening experience.”

  “But why are the bears acting this way?” Mel asked. There had to be a reason. She gazed at the smoke rising over the north end of the park. “Is it the fires?”

  Steve shook his head.

  “It’s not the fires,” he said. “There have been wildfires in Glacier since before it was a park.”

  He pointed to their table, which was now covered with half-eaten burgers, crumpled wrappers, ketchup-covered napkins, and bottles of soda. “This is the reason the bears are threatening humans.”

  “Um … the bears want to eat our hamburgers?” Aunt Cassie said.

  She glanced nervously at Mel. And Mel knew what she was thinking.

  That sounded, well, a little crazy.

  Steve shook his head. “Not exactly. The problem is garbage. Leftover food. There’s trash everywhere in the park. On the trails. In the campgrounds. Dumped in ditches. It’s become a bigger and bigger problem in Glacier.”

  Mel thought of Mom, hollering at people who littered. She pictured her tiny mother standing on the trail, in her red bandanna and peace-sign T-shirt, scolding a gorilla-sized man for leaving his empty Coke bottle on the trail.

  Steve leaned forward. His eyes narrowed.

  “Grizzlies are eating the garbage. Some grizzlies have almost stopped hunting and eating berries and plants. They’re now eating garbage and whatever food they can find at the campgrounds.”

  Steve told them more about the research he’d been doing. And suddenly what he was saying didn’t sound crazy at all.

  “As part of my research, I’ve also been studying grizzly scat,” Steve went on.

  Mel tried not to smile. Scat was another word for wild animal poop. And it had become Kevin’s favorite word. “I have to go make a scat!” he’d said yesterday morning as he ran to the outhouse.

  But what Steve was saying was serious.

  “I’ve been finding grizzly scat with glass in it, pieces of metal and plastic,” he continued. “Last month the rangers found a grizzly near a garbage dump. It had starved to death. It had glass embedded in its teeth. It probably couldn’t eat.”

  “How terrible!” Aunt Cassie said. Mel pushed away her food. She’d lost her appetite.

  “It is,” Steve went on. “Some of these grizzlies are really suffering. And they’re becoming more and more dangerous to people. They don’t want to stay away from us. They think of us as a source of food.”

  “So that’s why the grizzly followed me last night?” Mel asked. “It was looking for food?”

  Steve nodded. “I’m sure of it. And once it got up to the cabin, it could smell the food inside. A bear’s sense of smell is even more powerful than a dog’s. And it saw you all as a threat to its food. That’s why it became so aggressive.”

  Mel felt chills. There were hundreds of grizzlies in Glacier. What if all of them started stalking people? How could they ever feel safe in Glacier again? Something had to be done!

  “So Glacier needs to be cleaned up,” she said.

  “Yes,” Steve said. “But there are other problems. Have you heard of the Granite Park Chalet?”

  “Of course,” Aunt Cassie said. Mel had, too. It was a rustic hotel for hikers way up in the mountains. Mom had always wanted to take Mel there. “Wait until you see the view,” she’d said.

  “Is there a lot of garbage there?” Mel asked.

  She hated to think of one of Mom’s favorite places being littered with trash.

  “It’s worse than that, from what I hear,” Steve said, lowering his voice. “I’ve heard these strange rumors. I’m not even sure I believe them. I just know there’s something happening with the grizzlies up there. And I want to find out for myself. I’m planning on hiking up there tomorrow.”

  “We should go, too,” Mel blurted out.

  Aunt Cassie raised her eyebrows. “That’s a long hike.”

  “Eight miles each way,” Steve said. “I’m going to stay overnight. You’re welcome to join me.”

  Cassie looked at Mel. “You really want to go?”

  Mel thought for a minute. She’d never hiked that far. And what if they saw a grizzly?

  But Mel didn’t waver. Whatever was happening at Granite Chalet, she wanted to know.

  “I can do it,” she said.

  Cassie smiled. “All right. It’s a plan.”

  They finished their lunch and gathered up their trash. The garbage can was already overflowing. Mel bent down and quickly picked up the wrappers and dirty napkins that were scattered across the ground.

  But then she looked around and saw there was litter everywhere. Broken glass glittered in the dirt. Paper ba
gs lay crumpled under tables. There were even straw wrappers floating in the air, like ghostly little birds. It would take hours just to clean up this one small area.

  And that’s when Mel truly understood all that Steve had told them:

  It wasn’t the bears that were the problem in Glacier.

  It was the people.

  “Look there!” Steve said as they walked along the trail. He pointed at a hummingbird fluttering above a purple flower. The bird was bright red and barely the size of Mel’s thumb. Its wings were moving so fast they were almost invisible.

  “What kind is that?” Aunt Cassie asked. “A calliope?”

  Mel squinted at it. She and Mom had a book with pictures of all the birds in Glacier. They kept a list of the ones they’d spotted. “I think that’s a rufous.”

  “You’re right,” Steve said. “Good eye!”

  They’d been hiking for three hours so far, with another two to go. The Granite Park Chalet was way up in Glacier’s backcountry. That was the more wild part of the park, far from any road. The only way to reach the chalet was on foot or horseback — eight miles each way.

  Every minute or so, Steve clapped his hands. “Hey there, bear!” he’d shout. “Hey there, bear!

  “Good to let them know we’re coming,” he explained.

  Clap, clap.

  The sun was boiling hot. Mel’s tie-dyed T-shirt was glued to her sweaty back. Her hiking boots were too small. Her pinched toes had stopped hurting; they were numb. But she didn’t complain. This was a beautiful trail. It had taken them over cliffs and down into bright green valleys. Now they were walking through a meadow filled with wildflowers. There were more colors here than in a jumbo box of Crayolas.

  Mel took swigs of cool water from her canteen and munched on nuts and raisins that Pops had packed for her. He hadn’t been thrilled that they were heading to a place crawling with grizzlies. But Cassie had convinced him they’d be safe. And he was as eager as they were to find out what was happening there.

  As Mel walked behind Steve, she noticed a jagged purple-and-red line snaking down the back of Steve’s right calf. Mel had never seen a scar that big or angry. Kevin would be fascinated. She wanted to ask Steve about it. But right now he was busy telling them all about what grizzlies eat in the wild.

  “The grizzly is America’s apex predator,” he explained.

  Clap, clap.

  “That means it can hunt any animal it wants. And no animal wants to mess with it.”

  Mel smiled, thinking of Kevin again. He’d have about a million questions right now.

  “They’ll hunt elk or deer,” Steve continued. “In Alaska, the grizzlies eat lots of salmon. They pluck them right out of the water with their mouths. But here in Glacier the grizzlies mostly eat plants — like berries.”

  Mel’s mouth watered as she thought of the sweet, juicy huckleberries that grew wild along some of the trails.

  “They also love marmots,” Steve said.

  Clap, clap.

  Those were cute little rodents that lived underground. Sometimes they’d pop their furry heads out of their dens and whistle at people who walked by.

  “I’m pretty hungry myself,” Cassie said. “Right now I could really go for a nice, juicy … marmot.”

  Steve and Mel burst out laughing.

  “Maybe we should stop for lunch, then,” Steve said, pointing to a fallen log in the shade.

  Steve took out a sad little jar of peanut butter and some cardboard-looking crackers. He eyed the thick roast beef sandwiches Pops had made for Mel and Cassie.

  Mel handed him half of hers. “I’m not very hungry,” she fibbed.

  “If you’re sure …” he said, happily taking it.

  “So,” Aunt Cassie said, swallowing a mouthful of her own sandwich. “How did you first become interested in grizzlies?”

  “I’ve always been fascinated by them,” Steve said.

  “But why?” Aunt Cassie coaxed.

  Steve took a gulp of water from his beat-up canteen.

  “Who wouldn’t be? Grizzlies are powerful, smart, and curious. They’re a lot like humans, if you think about it.”

  Right then, he reminded Mel of Mom. Her eyes would get the same look of awe when she talked about bears and other wild animals.

  “How did you get that scar?” Mel asked, almost without thinking.

  Steve’s face fell. And right away Mel realized she should have kept her mouth shut.

  “Sorry, I …”

  “No,” Steve said. “It’s just … well, it’s one of those big, sad stories.”

  “We all have those,” Cassie said.

  Mel looked down and tried not to think of her own big, sad story.

  She was sure Steve didn’t want to talk about his.

  But she was wrong.

  “I grew up about a hundred miles north of here, in Canada. My dad and I used to spend lots of time in the woods. One day, when I was thirteen, my dad and I were heading to our favorite fishing spot. We came around a corner and surprised a sow and her cubs.”

  A sow was a mother bear.

  Mel’s stomach clenched. She knew what was coming. Mel had heard gruesome stories over the years of hikers slashed and bitten and left half-dead by mother grizzlies.

  “The sow went after my father first. Just slammed him with her paw. My father went down so hard. It was like he’d been struck by a sledgehammer. When he fell, he cracked his head on a rock.”

  Steve took a breath. “Then the grizzly turned to me.”

  Cassie’s hand had crept over and was now gripping Mel’s. They’d both stopped eating.

  Steve explained that there’s no way to know for sure what a grizzly will do when it sees a person.

  “It’s extremely rare for a grizzly to attack a person,” he said. “It might make noise, growl, and whoof. It might stand up to get a better look. Or it might do a bluff charge …”

  “What’s that?” Mel asked.

  “It’s when a bear comes running at you, but it stops short, maybe twenty feet away. It’s just trying to scare you.”

  “I bet that works,” Aunt Cassie said, with a nervous laugh.

  “That’s when most people would run away, which is a huge mistake. You should just never, ever try to run from a grizzly. Unless maybe there’s a tree nearby. But even then, it’s risky. Because some grizzlies will climb.”

  “So what should a person do if they think a grizzly is going to attack?” Aunt Cassie asked.

  “Drop down and play dead,” Steve said. “That’s what I did. The grizzly came charging toward me, and I could tell she wasn’t bluffing.”

  “How?” Mel asked.

  “She was silent. Her ears were pinned back. She wasn’t trying to put on a big noisy show to scare me. She saw me as a threat to her cubs. And she was going to eliminate that threat.

  “So I dropped down onto my stomach and glued myself to the ground. I clasped my hands behind my neck to protect it. The grizzly slashed my back with her claws. I was lucky I had my pack on, because it protected my spine from her bites.”

  Mel cringed.

  “I stayed perfectly still and quiet as she bit and clawed at me. I dug my toes into the dirt so she couldn’t flip me. I didn’t want her to slash my face or crush my chest. The whole thing was over in less than a minute. When I finally got up, she and the cubs were gone. I was in pretty bad shape. The worst was my leg. She sliced it open with her claw.”

  He pointed at the scar.

  “And my dad … it wasn’t the bear that killed him. It was the rock he hit when he fell.”

  “Oh, Steve …” Cassie said.

  “But there was something else … something almost worse than losing my father. Men from town went into the woods. They shot the sow. And her cubs. And that’s the last thing my father would have ever wanted. He loved the wild. He wanted to protect grizzlies. He would have understood that the grizzly was protecting her cubs. There were tracks everywhere. We should have known to stay away. My da
d shouldn’t have died that day. And those bears shouldn’t have died, either.”

  “I’m so sorry I asked you about that,” Mel said.

  “Don’t say that,” Steve said, reaching over and patting Mel’s hand. “I didn’t have to tell you. But it’s good for me to talk about it sometimes. It’s never good to keep sadness all bottled up.”

  They all sat there quietly for a moment. And then Steve stood up. He shook his head, as if he was waking up from a dream.

  “All right,” he said. “We’ve got about a mile left to go.”

  They put their trash into their packs and set out on the trail.

  Clap, clap.

  “Hey there, bear! Hey there, bear!” Steve called out.

  Mel looked around, wondering who — or what — was listening.

  The last half mile of the hike was torture — a trudge up a steep hill. Mel was sure they’d never get to the top. But suddenly there it was just ahead: the Granite Park Chalet.

  “Beautiful!” Aunt Cassie exclaimed.

  The stone-and-log building looked like a fairy-tale cottage, only maybe a little bigger. It sat up on a rocky hill. All around were grassy slopes dotted with wildflowers and a few small pine trees.

  They staggered into the lobby, a big airy room with a rough stone floor and walls made of logs. All around them, exhausted but happy-looking hikers were lounging in big chairs.

  “Welcome!” said a burly man from behind the front desk.

  He introduced himself as Greg. He was the manager of the chalet.

  He offered them cold glasses of grape Kool-Aid and directed them to their rooms upstairs. Steve was in a small room on his own. Mel and Cassie were next door. Their room was barely big enough for the metal bunk bed that was pushed against the wall. But it was bright and clean. Mel yanked off her painful boots and peeled away her filthy, bloody socks.

  “Those poor toes!” Aunt Cassie said, looking at Mel’s bubbling blisters.

  “Good thing my feet are numb,” Mel said with a pained laugh.