a burn area, then it’ll green up again. Quartz Creek Campground’ll be about ten miles south of here, on your left. The camp is officially closed until the first of July, which means the entrance is chained—you’ll need to unlock it to get in. When you leave, just chain it up again.”
“No problem,” Steven told her, taking the key from her outstretched hand.
“One more thing. There’s a ranger station farther south from where you’ll be staying, maybe four or five miles past. Other than that, you’ll be all alone.”
“Great—exactly what we want,” Steven nodded.
“Alone as in people, but not alone as in bears. Adult grizz are still in these parts, so be careful.” Holding up her hand, she ticked off the points on her fingers: “Don’t leave food anywhere they can get at it. Keep your garbage locked inside your car at all times. Always walk in pairs, even when you’re going to use the outhouse. Make noise when you hike. I’m sure you know all of this, but I’ll feel better if I tell you one more time. Now, is there anything else I can help you with?”
“I’d like to interview you to find out more about what you’ve observed with those mamma bears and their cubs,” Olivia told her.
“Sure. I’ll be here tomorrow if you need me.” She touched the brim of her hat and said, “I hope you can solve this mystery, Dr. Landon. For us, the grizzlies are like family.”
As their car bumped along the road, Jack watched the land change in the waning twilight, not gradually like a suburb changes into a city, but suddenly, like the sea to a shore. Gone were the cottonwood trees and the endless lodgepole pine; gone were the islands of wild grass that bent their stalks to the wind and the clusters of wildflowers that dotted the meadows as if they were buttons on a silk dress. In their stead were the remains of charred trees, lifeless and silent. It felt to Jack as though he were entering a cemetery. Blackened spikes reached into the air, some erect, some broken into crazy angles, others toppled one against the other like fallen tombstones. There was a hush in the car as they stared at the charred emptiness.
“What happened?” Ashley breathed.
“A lightning strike.”
“Why didn’t the park people put it out?”
“You know, they used to put out every fire they could,” Olivia answered, “but the truth is, it’s a lot better for the environment just to let it burn.”
“I don’t get it,” Ashley protested. “Why is it OK to let trees get killed?”
Steven quickly glanced over his shoulder and told Ashley, “I know it seems bad, but letting the land take care of itself is the best way to preserve it in the end. It’s better for the trees, the other plants, and especially the animals. Like the bears. I’ve learned a lot about them since your mom’s been doing her research. Did you know that grizzly bears don’t really like the woods? They need open spaces—meadows and rangeland.”
Shrugging, Ashley said, “So, what does that have to do with letting a fire turn the forest all ugly?”
“Everything,” Olivia answered, twisting around in her seat. “When the settlers came into Montana and took over the lowlands for farming and grazing, the grizzlies had to move. They fled to the mountains, and they’ve adapted to living here, but it’s not their first choice. So the grizz tend to hang out in the open places in the forest. You’ve seen a lot of meadows up here, right?”
Jack nodded. Glacier’s thick woods were like a sea of evergreen broken up by meadow islands. He’d seen small lakes that shone like mirrors in the sun, lots of open grassland, then thickets of woods dotted by meadows again.
“OK,” Olivia went on, “follow me here. The fires clear out space, meadows spring up in that space, and the grasses bring the little animals and a place for the huckleberries, which, in turn, bring the bears. Do you see how it’s all connected?”
“The circle of life,” Jack chimed in.
“Exactly,” Olivia nodded. “The circle of life, which we shouldn’t mess with. When the parks used to put out fires, the forests got heavy with dead trees, and the meadows were getting all crowded out. It took a while for folks to figure it out, so now when there’s a fire, it’s allowed to burn. And pretty soon Mother Nature will put it all back together again.”
“Hey—do you think the missing baby grizzlies might have been killed in the fire that was here?” Jack asked, thinking that nothing much could survive the devastation of a searing forest fire. “Maybe that’s what happened to them.”
“No, believe it or not, forest fires aren’t anything like what you’ve seen in the movie Bambi, where all the animals are running for dear life. Most of the animals leave ahead of the flames, and a few burrow underground and aren’t even scorched, unless it’s a really hot burn. That’s not why the baby grizz are disappearing.”
A shadow crossed Olivia’s face, and Jack noticed smudges underneath her eyes. She was worried about the missing cubs, he knew. She’d spent countless hours researching the information the park had given her. All the way to Glacier she’d reviewed the material, studying bear-sighting records and weather patterns and bear-mortality numbers and plant-growth statistics, especially about the abundance of huckleberries, because they are the bears’ favorite food. Doggedly, she’d searched for a clue the park officials might have overlooked. So far, she’d found nothing.
Tiny lines gathered in Olivia’s forehead as she crinkled her brow. “You know, I can’t help thinking about little Marco, and what’s become of him. Jane’s right: The grizzly are a threatened species here in the lower 48, and we can’t spare even one of them. I just wish I knew what I was looking for.”
“You’ll fix it,” Jack assured her.
“I hope so. Somebody’s got to, or the number of grizzlies in this park will be seriously impacted in a few generations, and that would be a terrible loss to everyone.”
“Except to the people who get eaten,” Ashley muttered, under her breath. “Nobody cares about what happens to them.”
“What did you say, Ashley?” their mother asked.
Ashley slumped in her seat. “Nothing.”
“She said, ‘Nobody cares about the people who get eaten,’” Jack offered, miffed that his sister sounded as though she didn’t worry about the baby bears.
“Jack!” Ashley cried, punching his thigh at the same time their mom called out, “Ashley!”
“Hey!” Jack told his sister, “Knock it off!”
“Well, you shouldn’t have told Mom.”
“Then you shouldn’t have said it!”
“Ashley,” their mother began, but Ashley said hotly, “People do get eaten by grizzlies, so maybe it’s better if the grizzlies go live someplace else! Why doesn’t anybody care about the poor visitor who turns into bear food?”
“Sweetheart, we can’t push the grizzlies out of Glacier just because people want to hike here—the bears need someplace to live, too. You know, this isn’t like you. You’ve always loved every kind of animal.” After a pause, their mother asked gently, “What is it,
