“And now,” Chuck said, “you’re telling me you think the grizzly attack two years ago represented some new level of habituation by grizzlies as well.”
Lex looked to his right and left. Assured no one was listening, he lowered his voice even more. “I’m saying the attack may have represented that. The question we want to answer is whether this particular grizzly might have become so habituated, so accustomed to the massive human presence in the park, that it came to see the Territory Team as prey.”
Chuck sat up straight. “What?”
Lex crooked a finger, beckoning Chuck closer to him. “What if the bear didn’t attack because it was alarmed? What if it knew exactly where it was, and waited for the humans who would be coming to retrieve their camera? And what if, when those humans showed up, the grizzly went on the attack not because it was surprised, but just the opposite: because it recognized the members of the Territory Team as easy takings?”
Chuck gaped at Lex from across the cafeteria table. “That’s one helluva leap—from increased habituation of animal species to the idea that the park’s grizzlies are actually beginning to hunt humans.”
“Grizzly, not grizzlies. We’re talking about one bear here, whose extreme behavior presents lots of questions. That’s why we’re still working so hard to locate it—bringing in the Canine Team, doing everything we can to track it down.”
“You’ve even given it a name.”
“Notch,” Lex confirmed. He made air quotes with his fingers. “The ‘killer grizzly.’”
“Doesn’t the park service frown upon that kind of anthropomorphism?”
“We’ve made an exception in this case. Naming it, particularly by its defining feature, helps keep it in the public’s mind. Our hope is, if someone spots it, they’ll be more likely to recognize it and let us know.”
“But the attack was two summers ago. No one’s seen the bear since.”
“Grizzlies live for a quarter century or more.”
One of the scientists Chuck recognized from last night approached carrying a tray of food. Lex waited until she was well past their table before he resumed speaking, again bending toward Chuck with his shoulders hunched.
“I can tell you this much: Turret Patrol Cabin wasn’t chosen by chance. The entire Thorofare region around the cabin—the upper Yellowstone River valley and the Thorofare Creek drainage branching off to the southeast—is prime grizzly habitat.”
“Everybody knows that.”
“Yes, but everybody doesn’t necessarily know the area has become increasingly prime over the last few years. I’m sure you’ve learned Yellowstone’s grizzlies gorge on the nuts that fall from the whitebark pine trees each fall.”
Chuck nodded.
“And that the pine beetle population has exploded in the park in recent years as temperatures have increased with climate change and global warming. The beetles have munched through thousands of acres of whitebark pines across the Central Yellowstone Plateau, killing millions of trees.”
“So I understand.”
“The Thorofare region is the highest and coldest forested part of the park. The pine beetles haven’t arrived there yet. As the beetles have wiped out the whitebark pine groves across the lower parts of the plateau, more and more grizzlies have shown up in the Thorofare to feed on the pine nuts still produced by the healthy trees there each autumn.”
“Are you actually telling me you sited the research camp in the heart of the Thorofare region specifically because of its high grizzly population?”
“Turret Cabin is not far, as the crow flies, from where the Territory Team was attacked in Lamar Valley, and of all the places hit by beetles so far, Lamar’s one of the worst.”
“You’re thinking Notch might head for the Thorofare on account of the pine nuts?”
“It’s as good a guess as any.”
“But the nuts won’t ripen and fall from the trees until late August.”
“The camp will be operational for ten weeks, through mid-September. Besides, the Thorofare region is a big draw for grizzlies throughout the summer, too. The open divides over the Absarokas provide easy passage for the elk herds scattered across the central plateau inside the park, and for the herds in the headwater drainages of the Snake River south of the park. This time of year, with fresh, new grass sprouting everywhere in the high country, and with elk calf births by the thousands, grizzlies are on the move over the divides big time, grazing on the grass and munching any calves they can sink their teeth into.”
Chuck scrunched his face in bewilderment. “So you think this grizzly, Notch, might be a manhunter, and you’ve situated your research camp in the most likely place for the bear to show up?”
“The best outcome of all would be a safe sighting of Notch through the presence of lots of folks in a part of the park generally uninhabited by humans but well trafficked by grizzlies, then tracking down the bear from there.”
“Okay. Fine. I get it,” Chuck said. “But I still can’t figure out why you gave the all-clear for me to bring my wife and kids.”
“Because of what I just said—the presence of lots of other people.”
Chuck closed one eye, frowning. “There’s more going on here, isn’t there?”
“How’s that?”
“Jessie,” Chuck said, his voice gentle. “And your kids.”
Lex sat back, his eyes suddenly hooded. “What are you—?”
Chuck lifted a hand. “I’m sorry for your loss. You know how much I cared for her. I can only imagine how tough the last few months have been for you.”
Lex settled forward with a heavy sigh. “Sometimes, it’s all I can do to pull on my uniform in the morning.”
“Carson and Lucy, how are they doing?”
“Oh, you know. They loved their mother as much as she loved them. And now, they miss her as much as I miss her. But they’ll get through it. We’ll get through it.”
“It’ll be good for you, getting out of the office this week, won’t it?”
“Just what the doctor ordered. Or, the psychiatrist.” Lex smiled wearily. “I’m twelve months from retirement. I don’t know what I’m going to do when they shove me out the door next year. Jessie had all these plans for us—Alaska, Europe, time with the kids. I couldn’t wait.” Tears welled in his eyes. “We had such a good life together.”
Lex blinked. A single tear trickled partway down his cheek. He brushed it away with a brusque stroke of his hand. “When Carson and Lucy were your kids’ ages, Jessie and I got them out camping and hiking and backpacking every spare minute we had.” A wistful look stole across his face. “Those were the best years of my life.”
Chuck spoke carefully. “Do you think part of why you okayed my bringing my family into the backcountry had anything to do with how much you miss those years?”
Lex slowly nodded his head. “Maybe,” he admitted. “I can’t say it didn’t. But I stand by the fact that it’ll be fine for them to be out there.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.