Last year a man was killed and partially eaten by a grizzly in Yellowstone. That same year an American dentist, a member of the trophy hunting organization Safari Club International with at least 43 trophy kills including caribou, moose, deer, buffalo, polar bear and mountain lion on his resume, illegally killed a celebrity lion, Cecil, in Zimbabwe
Which inspires more hope for the future of earth, a predator that kills for food or a predator that kills for a trophy on the wall?
When I think of hope, Doug Peacock, author, grizzly bear and bison expert, wild lands activist and character model for Hayduke in Ed Abbey’s novel “The Monkey Wrench Gang,” comes to mind. He went to Southeast Asia in the 1960s a warrior/patriot/true believer ready to fight and kill and die for his country. He accomplished the first two but returned from Viet Nam with no more hope than the tattered remains of a road map to Montana, “to remind him of both beloved country and mythical place,” in the words of Jack Turner. Peacock went into the wilderness alone because he loved the place and was guided by its myth. He found hope (and healing) by living for long periods in close proximity to grizzly bears. Peacock lived his hope. In his book “Grizzly Years” he describes it in terms of power and mystery when he encounters a grizzly in the woods and chooses not to shoot the bear:
“I peered down the gun barrel into the dull red eyes of the huge grizzly. He gnashed his jaws and lowered his ears. The hair on his hump stood up. We stared at each other for what might have been seconds but felt like hours. I knew once again that I was not going to pull the trigger. My shooting days were over. I lowered the pistol. The giant bear flicked his ears and looked off to the side. I took a step backwards and turned my head toward the trees. I felt something pass between us. The grizzly slowly turned away from me with grace and dignity and swung into the timber at the end of the meadow…I felt my life had been touched by enormous power and mystery.”
Those are breathtaking words. There is more raw beauty and hope for planet earth in the relationship and moment they describe than, say, in photographs of the birth of galaxies and the death of stars and suns the size of our solar system or, needless to say, in the raving braggadocio of many of the sneering, self-admiring, bunker living cowboys riding the current campaign trail.
Peacock found hope in the courage it took to lower his pistol in the face of a creature above him in the food chain, choosing life over another round of killing. Something passed between the bear and Peacock, and the bear turned away with a noted grace and dignity as powerful and mysterious as Peacock’s courage of hope. The bear was an active participant. It is neither unreasonable nor difficult to imagine the bear conscious of and changed by the passing. What was exchanged between the man and the bear is encompassed by the living meaning of the word “hope.”
Thankyou so much for this point of view, as recently I felt let down about humanity, when a woman I knew expressed how she would run her dog daily so it could practice hunting. Woman are the ones usually who respect life, even though most don’t know about the earth’s ecosystems. It baffles me those that love guns and killing small wildlife like expressed in the Powderwhore company’s film Breaking Trail that was shocking too. I guess it must be the residual hunter-gather in us. The film shows the boys ascending beautiful pristine backcountry where the hard metals of civilization don’t exist. And then they shockingly show the boys with their guns out to kill small creatures for fun. There’s one thing about the pristine backcountry where man doesn’t live, and the ecosystems aren’t altered by us, that I go to for a break from our urban environments. But now mankind has a desire for these unique landscapes, as we overpopulate. Maybe ecosystem balance is not realistic. Maybe dominant species overrule and decimate, and eventually a balance will happen again.
Dick,
My buddy Gavin, his son Alex and myself were hiking the “heart of the South Boundary” in (Canadian) Jasper National Park, when we encountered a grizzly on the trail. Gavin was the only one of us who saw him, swiftly turning us back to a safe muster point off trail where I jangled my bear bell ceaselessly to the possible annoyance of at least one of my companions and the bear. Don’t know what the grizzly thought of my bell but we saw nothing more of him except paw prints and disturbed soil where he was grubbing for insects and berries.
This happened around the same time you were writing this blog post. I agree wholeheartedly with your conclusions, based on my own respectful man/bear encounter on the trail. No firearms needed, just caution and respect. After an encounter with “the wild”, I always return to our so-called civilization more hopeful. I hope the grizzly learned the two legged creatures he encountered mean him no harm.