"Gimme Shelter"

UPDATE August 13, 2015:

Sad news today, a grizzly sow was euthanized.  It is possible that she was one of the grizzlies that I have watched, photographed and painted for over a decade. It is said that she killed a park employee who was hiking off trail without bear spray.

I cannot imagine the horror and pain that defined the last minutes of this man’s life. My heart goes out to his family and his friends as they deal, not only with his death, but with the horrific manner in which he died. As if their loss were not painful enough, they are being subjected to a barrage of insensitive barbs and rants by the wildlife lovers who insist on blaming him for the euthanization of the bear.

It does not matter if he was off trail, it does not matter if he was without bear spray, it does not even matter if the bear was protecting her cubs. A man is dead.  For those of us who choose to live in bear country, this is the sobering reality: this bear did not just defensively attack and run, she killed, fed, cached and returned to feed again. For that, the Park and bear management felt as if they had no option other than to euthanize her. Like many, I hoped and tried for better options. At least the lives of her cubs were spared...they will be sent to zoos, possibly re-habbed and released. Wherever they end up, I hope their story continues to be told.

Tears come as I write those words, for if this is the bear they say, I have watched her for over a decade as she skillfully raised a number of cubs by the roadside. She brought so much awe and joy to the countless people who were fortunate enough to have seen her. I have painted her, laughed at her antics, marveled at her parenting skills, cried for her lost cubs and admired her grown cubs as they go about their life being the bears that she taught them to be. There is a hole in my heart just as there is a hole in the ecosystem of the Lake area.

My grief and sympathy extends also to the bear management team. They know this bear and I have no doubt that it also pains them greatly to have to say goodbye.

What has saddened me in addition to the loss of this bear and the hiker, is the blame and hatred being leveled at the hiker, the park service and even anyone that did not post a dozen different petitions to save her.

The reality is that blood of this bear is on all of our hands…she dies not simply for killing and eating an ill-prepared hiker…but for all of us. She died because people, willingly or ignorantly, fail to abide by park rules and recommendations. She died because people love to see bears, get close for a few moments, take photos. Anyone who has ever stood in a bear jam or been closer than 100 yards carries some responsibility in her loss, because we helped her become acclimated to people rather than instinctively running from us. Everyone who visits the park, lives in the area or simply drives a car has to shoulder a little of the weight of her death. Because we want to visit or live in their habitat, consume the products created by destruction of wild places and allow our population to outnumber them by greater numbers every year...we threaten the wild things that we love. It is something we ALL need to think about.

I am still holding out hope that it wasn't the bear teveryone says it was...there are a lot of bears in that area.  Whether is was or not, a man was lost and a bear was lost...sad all around.

Here is the original post telling a story on one of my experiences with this bear:

There are countless reasons to spend time in the field if you want to paint wildlife...not the least of which is the chance of witnessing something truly extraordinary.  

This is the story of one of those days and one of the paintings it inspired...

It was May 17, 2011...I was driving the road South of Hayden Valley when a Grizzly with a tiny coy cub stepped out of the trees to cross the road.  "COY" is an anacronym for "cub of the year"...the wee bear beside its mama was just a few months old.

Roadside mama bears are often pretty traffic-savvy.  She waited for the inevitable stop of the traffic.

When there was an opening, she ran across first...

The cub followed...look at how TINY it is!

We had an extraordinary amount of Spring snow this particular year...and the burms created by the plows were mountains to a teeny coy bear.

Safely across the road...mama headed for the melt-off flushed Yellowstone river.  She started swimming and we wondered where the cub was...and how it could possibly make it across the wide, cold water.

Mama swam out a few yards...then turned back.

She met the cub in the water...

then turned around and waited as the cub climbed on her back.

Then she ferried the wee one across the river.

On the other side, she shook him off...

Then the two headed away from the road, no doubt, to rest and nurse.

In my MANY years of bear watching, I had never seen anything like this (and haven't since).







Throughout the Summer the cub often climbed up to sit on mama's back, much to the delight of anyone who saw them.  In watching the two later in the season, I wondered if the cub learned that behavior because of unusually late (and deep) snow.  It would be much warmer on mama's back!

The only other time I have seen a cub "ride" its mama was during the first summer that the sow with four was roaming the area south of Mammoth a few years ago.  Once in a while, if the little runt of the litter was having trouble keeping up, she would turn back and wait for it to climb on before continuing to go where ever she was headed.

These moments of discovery are simply magical...and can only be found by being out there.

"Gimme Shelter"

Oil on Gessoed Panel

9" x 12"

The Ghosts and the Bears

The sagebrush seems empty, then it shimmers...a grizzly walks out, swings her mighty head toward the road and moves into the open with cubs tumbling behind her...I blink and the sagebrush is empty again.

The Teton/Yellowstone parks are inextricably woven into the tapestry of my life....and therefore, they are full of ghosts.

Some are ghosts of those gone...my Dad, my old dog, the magnificent bears "264", "Blaze", "760" and others.

Some are ghosts of moments that seem to echo year after year...and each year there are more of them.

For much of the time since my first visit, Teton/Yellowstone has been my refuge. Through all my travels, it was the one place I always returned to.

When I would leave the Tetons...it felt as if my heart was being torn out by the roots...rather significant for a girl with a tumbleweed soul who has never felt rooted anywhere.

Early on, Autumn was what I associated with the Parks...bugling elk, moose in the rut, pouncing coyotes, browsing black bears, fall arts festivals and golden aspens quaking under cerulean skies.

It was years before I saw my first grizzly...a distant bear roaming the slopes below Dunraven Pass. After the bear vanished into the trees, the guy standing next to me said "I feel like my heart just fell out of my chest". I had to agree and still feel that way every time I see a bear...

One spring when I needed to run away from the world, I wound up in the Tetons and worked my way north to Yellowstone... landing in the middle of my first serious bear jam.

Little did I know that the grizzlies I watched and the people I met that spring would change my life.

The bears, in particular, seem to be the common thread through the life lessons learned in the Parks.

Seeing, photographing and painting bears might have been my "goal"...but it has been the experiences along the way that have been of real value.

During my time among the grizzlies, I have met people briefly who touched my life deeply...and have forged extraordinary friendships that transcend the boundaries of the Park.

There are the ghosts of times when I escaped to the park to sort out the pieces after one sort of heartbreak or another...and exquisite moments of wonder that happily haunt me still.

Along my many miles and many years through the parks, I have been awestruck by things I've never seen before...and grief-stricken over those I will never see again.

I've tried to hold on and, finally, learned to let go.

Maybe it is the ambient heat of the geothermal features that throws fuel on the fire of my passion and melts the sometimes broken shards of my T2 soul, turning the pieces to quicksilver that pools together into something stronger (and hopefully wiser) each time.

There are ghost bears that walk through my dreams, play in my imagination and live in my heart. They wander out of the sagebrush of my soul and onto my canvases.

The ghosts and the bears keep the Parks alive in my heart...and, maybe just as importantly, keep my heart alive in the Parks.



Originally published June 15, 2007