222

CHAPTER 17. Our Fourth and Final Snowed-in Winter at Old Faithful (1960-61)

On 6 October, Chief Ranger Nels Murdock announced winter assignments. We were fortunate beyond belief; we were to have a fourth winter at Old Faithful. However, we were afraid that if the administrator types in Mammoth found out that Pat was expecting a baby in January, they would not allow us to be snowed in. Pat tried to stay trim as long as possible so that no one would know until we were safely ensconced at our Old Faithful home. Our neighbors in the duplex would be ranger Darrell and Jean Coe (and son Kenny). They had been at the East Entrance during the previous summer. When we heard that they would be our neighbors, we made a trip to East in September to talk with them. We felt that they deserved to know that Pat was expecting and that the baby was due toward the end of January. They said that they were not uncomfortable with the idea, so we were pleased. They seemed like, and proved to be, very nice neighbors and they both were intellectually stimulating. Our plan for having the baby was to go out to West Yellowstone on a snowcoach trip several days before the baby was due, then drive to the Ashton, Idaho, Hospital. We had left our car in an NPS garage at West Yellowstone for the winter. The battery was left in a warm basement. The Coes moved to Old Faithful on 14 October. Stray dogs and cats were always showing up in the Park. Often, people brought puppies or kittens they wanted to get rid of and dumped them with the idea that some ranger would deal with it—and of course we did. We kept stray dogs or cats for a few days or weeks for the kids to enjoy (at that time YNP employees were not allowed to have their own pets), then took them to an animal shelter (e.g., in Billings) if we were unable to find a home through local contacts. In October, we cared for a puppy (Suzzie) for 3 weeks before having to send her to Billings to the shelter. We also were a temporary home for an orange angora tom cat. The kids loved them both and we all really missed not having a pet of our own. Pat and I both grew up with a dog in the family. There were a few seasonal naturalists promised to be kept on duty into the late fall at Old Faithful to help monitor post-earthquake geyser activity patterns. In mid-October, the seasonals were terminated a month before they had been promised and given a one-day notice of termination. Someone at headquarters had miscalculated the budget. In reaction to this, Pat wrote to her mother: "The NPS is the most disorganized organization I have ever seen." Also in mid-October we heard from the Milligans about a close encounter they had with a grizzly bear. This is how I remember Tom's description: Tom and Sharlene (who was about 6-months pregnant) were hiking across the Bechler Meadows on their way to go fishing. At some points the Meadows are very wide, 1,000 feet or more. At one of these wide points the Milligans spotted a grizzly mother and cub on the opposite side of the Meadow from them, a long way away. They initially had no concern because of the distance. But when the sow became aware of them (either by smell or perhaps sound), it began running toward them. Tom said that he thought that the mother bear perhaps thought they were deer, and when the griz got nearer she would stop and retreat from the detected humans. But she kept coming and it became obvious that she wasn't going to stop! Sharlene tried to climb a tree, but fell to the ground. Tom diverted the bear from vulnerable Sharlene. Tom said that he then started running in circles around a tree, with the sow on his heals in hot pursuit. He either ran out of energy or realized the bear was going to catch him, so he 223 stopped, faced the bear, and put his arm in front of his face to protect it. The sow stood up on her hind legs, facing him, and with a front foot slashed at his chest. Tom's heavy coat draped down in front of him because of his raised arm. The hanging coat absorbed some of the impact of the claws, but Tom had deep claw scars across his chest for some time afterwards. The blow knocked him to the ground. The sow bit him on a buttock and then ran away from them, back toward the cub. Sharlene was untouched and Tom was not seriously injured. What would you have done then? Most of us would have beat a hasty retreat, but not the Milligans! They were special and very gutsy people. They continued the hike on to the stream destination and started fishing. Tom said that, as much as they tried, they couldn't enjoy it (looking over their shoulders every few seconds); after a brief period of fishing they headed back out and made it without a further encounter. Ordering winter groceries went on as it had the other winters, except for one foul up. One of the rangers from West Yellowstone said that he would pick up our winter supply of eggs, 42 dozen, in Ashton, Idaho, and we would then pick them up at West. On the day of the pick up, we received a phone call informing us that the ranger's vehicle had skidded on ice and flipped over. All 42 dozen eggs were scrambled! Afterwards (24 October 1960), Pat wrote as if nothing had happened: “ We have all our case goods— will get incidentals Thursday & see the doctor. Also plan to go down to Idaho for eggs & potatoes within the next week.'” The Old Faithful Monthly Report for October noted: “A bear is in hibernation in the steam-heated den near Gem Pool. At least two [bears] have gone [into hibernation] under the boys dorm behind the Inn.”

In the first week of November, Harold Young, of West Yellowstone, was again granted permission to operate snowcoaches to Old Faithful. On 10 November, I wrote a memo summarizing the temperature changes in the past summer (D-19). During the week of 14 November, Darrell and I commuted to Mammoth for law enforcement training. By 20 November the rumor was running that the road would be plowed until Christmas. The coyotes had been in the vicinity of our quarters already, but they deserted us for a bison carcass on Geyser Hill. We received word that our first snowed- in winter neighbors, Bob and Vivian Burns, were transferring from Big Hole Battlefield to Perry's Victory National Monument, at Put-in-Bay, Ohio, where Bob was to become superintendent. On 20 December 1960,1 received an offer for a transfer to Crater Lake National Park, Oregon, as a GS-7 Naturalist. We thought to ourselves, you've got to be kidding; we're about to begin a winter snowed-in at Old Faithful and they think we would voluntarily consider leaving! We asked the chief ranger to inform Crater Lake that we were not interested, but that we appreciated the consideration. The winter did not start off well for us. In early December, I came down with a throat infection that sapped all of my energy and involved 11 days of sick leave. After a week of feeling progressively worse, we drove to the nearest doctor, in Ashton, Idaho. He prescribed an antibiotic and after another week I began to feel better because of, or in spite of, the antibiotic. 224

The doe deer "Baby" (with the notched ear) had been a frequent visitor to our quarters vicinity each winter at Old Faithful (1-102). By December 1960 she seemed to be ailing and was absent for more than a week. We finally found her down by Gem Pool (about 1!4 miles north of Old Faithful). She was very weak and moved with difficulty. She seemed to be staying near Gem Pool because of the warm ground and warm water vapor that enveloped the area. We believe that the coyotes got one of her two fawns before Christmas; Baby was no longer strong enough to protect them. During each of our winters at Old Faithful, we had observed a Three-antlered Elk. He had first been reported in the summer of 1955, in the Upper Basin (Lystrup 1955). He appeared to have two separate antlers from the base on the right side and a single antler on the left. Each year he had a similar regrowth of three antlers (Lystrup 1958), so we were sure that it was the same individual each year. He often grazed on bare ground with Geyser Hill as a backdrop (1-103). Before Christmas (1960), the Three-antlered Elk began frequenting the vicinity of our quarters; he had never done this before. He moved very slowly and seemed to be declining in health. Occasionally, we saw him drinking from the Old Faithful Geyser runoff channel; a local coyote began following him and apparently sensed that the elk was weak (1-104). One morning I entered our kitchen and looked out at the bird feeder (attached to the base of the window outside) as I routinely did first thing every morning. The Three-antlered Elk was eating bread crumbs from the bird feeder! He knocked the geyser-watching mirror loose and luckily it held by one of the support wires, rather than crashing to the ground. The next few days we kept food off the feeder, but the Three-antlered Elk often just stood in the yard all day. On Christmas day, when I returned to the house from the ranger station, the Three-antlered Elk was standing ten feet from the door, on the shoveled path, with snow berms on each side. He would not move to let me pass. I had a camera with me and photographed him standing there, with Pat (holding Jane) and Jean Coe (holding Kenny) standing inside the partially open kitchen door of our quarters . Darrell took photos with a 4 x 5 Graphlex (1-105). As much as we hated to, Darrell and I then hazed him away with banging pans and snowballs. He was just too much of a hazard to the wives and children if they were to surprise him near the house. The road from Madison Junction was closed to visitor vehicles during all of December; however, the road continued to receive administrative use for most of the month. A snowstorm with very strong winds arrived on the night of 26 December. It produced only about 3 inches of snowfall, but the winds created deep drifts on the road to West Yellowstone and we were snowed-in for the winter—hurray! The first snowcoach from West Yellowstone arrived on 22 December, even before administrative use of the road was terminated; there were twelve trips during the rest of the month. Darrell and I found Baby dead, near Gem Pool, on 11 January 1961. This was certainly the end of an era. Baby had always been the leader and other deer followed her around. She had been responsible for the frequent visits of deer to our yard. With her gone, we seldom saw deer near the quarters. Pat wrote: . . with Baby gone, the Three-antlered Elk is our only Tame" beast now—he doesn't come around the house [though] because we don't feed him." Although the Three-antlered Elk was the only individually familiar large mammal, we still had several pine marten living in the attic. On one night, a marten chewed his way into the food storage cellar below the Coe's quarters (161 A) in the duplex. He 225 consumed two apple pies that Jean Coe had left there to cool. A couple of coyotes were beginning to hang around the snowcoaches when the machines arrived from West Yellowstone. Feeding by the tourists seemed inevitable and we were concerned about someone getting hurt, so we routinely chased them away until they gave up and stayed away. In the cold winter months, small animal life in the microbial beds of thermal runoff waters attracted our attention. Brock (1994:17-18) later described what we had been fascinated with each winter: “Although the upper temperature limit for animal life is about 45°C (113°F), there are vast areas where the thermal waters have cooled enough so that animals can live. In fact, in many of the hot spring runoff channels, certain specialized animals actually thrive, developing in surprisingly large numbers. The commonest animals of the hot springs are ephydrid flies, small non-biting insects that are often found in profusion in the microbial mats. These flies mate in the hot spring environment and when mating usually occur in large clusters. These insects are best seen in winter, when they are unable to live away from the mats because of the cold." “One type of ephydridEphydra fly, bruesi, lays bright orange-pink eggs in masses on top of twigs, stones, or other projections above the mat. These eggs are most obvious in the winter, when they contrast against the dark-green of the mat [I-106]. The life cycle from adult to adult takes about two weeks. The maximum temperature at which the adult flies can live is about 43°C (109°F). Flowever, the adults can go partway underwater surrounded by a bubble of air which acts as insulation, so that they can feed in hotter water. The ephydrid flies are strict vegetarians, but other animals associated with hot springs are carnivorous and eat the ephydrid. One common carnivore is the spider. These animals live at the edges of springs, making mad dashes out onto the mat to catch adult ephydrid. As long as the spider keeps moving, it can traverse hotter water than it can otherwise stand.” 226

Fark. Biologist How© Hovewbcr 10, i960

B. Riley McClelland, Park Ranger

Temperature Change* in the Firehola River— 1960

The fact that something oat of the ordinary v & * taking place ia the Flrehole River eaase to the attention of several of us at Old Faithful about the middle of July, Standing on the bridge at Biscuit Baa la, one could see a great many trout ewlaming upstream— so many that It appeared to be a real migration. About the 17th of July, Iron Creek and the Little Flrehole River were Investigated. They were found to be literally packed with trout. In walking 100 yards along Iron Creek, just above its mouth, 1 on certain a «■*«»«■»*+ of 1000 fish could be seen.

About this ease time, over 150 dead fish were found in the area of the Flrehole Cascades. It seemed quite apparent that the dead fish and the migration were a result of the water temperature in certain stretches of the Flrehole exceeding the critical point for trout. This was undoubtedly due to a combination of factors not the least of which were the prolonged period of low water and high air temper­ ature*.

Temperatures la the river reached a peak during the last week of July. At this tine some of the river was 83°F (sad even higher for short periods).

A 0.25 inch rainfall on July 31 started the temperature* oa a down* ward swing and by tbs middle of August the situation compared roughly to normal.

Fishing was poor in the Flrehole through the sad of September. When the weather finally turned cooler about the first of October, fishing became excellent and the final two weeks of the season were outstanding.

The stretch of water fran Midway to tha mouch of Be« Perce Creek suffered most from the high tssmpntatures. In the first week of August it appeared that there ware comparatively few fish left in that stretch. However» fey early October that area see&ed to have re* populated itself f rors the cooler sanctuaries that raatny trout had boss able to find during the “hot** period.

What seemed like a severe and radical change la the Flrehole at tte* time had, I believe, only very temporary and minor effect In the overall picture.

D-19. Firehole River temperature memo (10 November 1960). 227

location m * Temperature Biscuit Basin (near 7/20/60 78®F foot bridge to Geyssr 7/31/60 80° Basin) 8/1/60 75° 8/17/60 71° 11/7/60 55°

South of Flrehole 7/20/60 80°F Cascades 8/1/60 76® 8/17/60 68° 11/8/60 54°

1/2 aile above south 7/20/60 83° of Res Perce Creek 8/1/60 80° 8/17/66 74® 11/8/60 60°

Midway Geyser Basin 7/20/60 80® (at foot bridge) 11/8/60 58°

Mis. ZfiSBS&ft&ire 8/1/60 70°F 8/17/60 65°F 11/8/60 Frosea over

Q -G ^n B. R. McClelland Park Ranger,Old F a ith fu l In Duplicate

Copy to: ItLlv& W.D.Files W.D.Reading File

BRMcCleiland: earn

D-19 (concluded). 228

1-102. “Baby,’’ the mule deer doe that was a frequent visitor each of our four snowed-in winters at Old Faithful; photo in her final winter, December 1960. 229

1-103. The Three-antlered Elk, with Beehive Geyser erupting in the background, 14 December 1960. 230

1-104. The Three-antlered Elk at an Old Faithful Geyser runoff channel, with a coyote tracking his movements, December 1960. 231

1-105. The Three-antlered Elk on the walkway at Quarters 161B, Old Faithful, Christmas day, 1960. In the doorway: L-R: Pat MeClelland holding Jane Anne, and Jean Coe holding Kenny (photo by Darrell Coe). 232

1-106. Orange-pink eggs of Ephydrid(Ephydra flies bruesi) on a microbial mat in hot spring runoff near , February 1961. 233

Our big event during the 1960-61 winter was the birth of our fourth child, Kerry, on 21 January. Because of our fear about being excluded from a winter assignment to Old Faithful if Pat's pregnancy were known, we kept it quiet and the headquarters administrators probably did not find out about her condition until we were well into December. In late December and early January, we began to hear rumors that Superintendent Garrison was becoming very concerned about our remaining snowed-in as the anticipated arrival time (end of January) approached. Garrison (an unusually nice, caring, and sensitive superintendent) sent word to us that we must move out to West Yellowstone by 20 January. Then we would be allowed to return to Old Faithful with the new baby. We had made tentative plans to go out on 23 January, but it meant moving into a motel or some vacant park quarters with only what we could carry out in a snowmachine. We had prepared for the eventual need to go out, but wanted to wait until the last possible moment (certainly imprudent in Garrison's eyes and probably in reality). We were prepared to have the baby at home if that eventuality developed, but we had arranged for Harold Young to drive his snowcoach in from West Yellowstone, at any hour, and take us to West. We would then drive to the Ashton Memorial Hospital, about 70 miles from West Yellowstone. The Coes, our Old Faithful neighbors, had agreed to take care of Mary T., Kevin, and Jane until I returned. I planned to return as soon as the baby arrived and Pat was stable, leaving Pat and baby in the hospital for a few days until I returned for them. My mother planned to travel from Denver to Ashton, by train as soon as possible after the baby was born, and I would go out to get her in the Weasel, or she might be able to ride in on a commercial snowcoach trip. Looking back on it now, it does seem like complicated and risky planning. We were young and naive in our confidence to overcome any potential problem. The order to be out by 20 January started Pat worrying and fretting about the complications of going to West and just waiting. Whether her worry about the trip had anything to do with it, we'll never know, but on the evening of 19 January she started having strong labor pains. By 11:00 P.M. they had slacked off and we went to bed. By morning Pat had developed additional signs that we needed to get going. I phoned Harold Young, at West Yellowstone (the phone of course could easily have been out of order, but it wasn't) at 8:00 A.M., and he headed in to get us, arriving at 11:00 A.M. The weather was good and we were in West Yellowstone by 12:15 P.M. I installed the car battery (stored in a heated basement) in our car and it started without a problem. We drove to Ashton on a dry road, arriving about 3:00 P.M. Pat checked in at the hospital, however, by that time her labor had stopped. We walked around outside, in the vicinity of the hospital, for a couple of hours, sat in the car, and waited. By this time it was around 11:00 P.M. on the 20th, so we got Pat in the hospital to stay for the night. There was only a Practical Nurse on duty and she phoned the doctor, Willis A. Melcher, who lived nearby. Dr. Melcher checked Pat and said she wasn't all that far along, so he went home after instructing the nurse to phone him again when labor had progressed further. I of course stayed by Pat in her room. About midnight she began to progress very rapidly. I rushed out and got the nurse from an adjacent room; she checked Pat and left immediately to phone Dr. Melcher. As soon as she left, Pat's contractions became intense and the baby came very quickly. The nurse (who had no experience delivering babies) returned just as the baby was entering the World; it was 00:23 A.M. on 21 January. Dr. Melcher arrived after several 234 minutes to take care of the various other necessities. I had the privilege of delivering my own son! It seemed so ironic—all the haste and ado about getting out in plenty of time so that a safe delivery could be performed in the hospital, and then the doctor wasn't even there for the delivery. The rest of the plan worked as we had intended. I returned to Old Faithful, then a few days later made the trip back to Ashton to bring Pat and baby Kerry back to Old Faithful on a regular snowcoach trip. When I arrived in West Yellowstone to make the car ready for the drive to Ashton, the temperature was minus 20° F; I was afraid that I'd never get the car started. After a lot of cranking, the engine finally started, and the round trip to Ashton went without incident. A few days later I went out again and brought my Mother in on a scheduled snowcoach trip (with two very obnoxious, foulmouthed tourist couples aboard). Mother stayed a week or so and departed on 6 February. She was a great help to Pat, just as Pat's mother had been after Jane's arrival. We settled back into a "normal" snowed-in winter. Flow Pat coped with the four kids is beyond me, but she was a terrific mom and got joy out of it as well as the pleasure of looking out the windows at geysers and wildlife. January turned out to be very dry, with only two inches of snowfall for the entire month. Snow depth was 19 inches at the beginning and end of the month. On my days off duty, I tried to get the three older children out to see wildlife and geysers. The kids could walk on bare thermal ground and also on the packed snowcoach tracks (1-107). On 12 February, Flarry Reynolds (Lake District Ranger) and Dr. John Craighead came to Old Faithful to start what they intended to be a three-day ski trip to the Shoshone Geyser Basin Patrol Cabin. The rudimentary portable radios of those days were very heavy and Flarry had not taken one with him. As had been the case for all previous years, once the ski patrol left a manned winter station, there would be no further contact until the patrol returned, or reached a station with a working telephone or radio. Nine inches of snow fell at Old Faithful on the day of the Reynolds trip departure, nothing unusual. Another 3 inches fell on the two subsequent days. However, snowfall on the route could be substantially heavier. Reynolds and Craighead did not arrive back at Old Faithful on the anticipated date or the day after. On the third day, real concern mounted. Two rangers from Mammoth were dispatched (via Weasel) to join Darrell and me in a search party. We planned to take the Mammoth Weasel to the Shoshone trail head at , then ski the trail to Shoshone. Our Old Faithful Weasel was out of commission; a few days earlier the fan had become detached and had torn into the radiator. En route to Lone Star, we encountered the Reynolds party. They looked exhausted. They explained that 3—4 feet of snow had fallen at Shoshone and that trail breaking was so difficult and slow that they turned back on their scheduled departure day. Additionally, Harry was suffering from back pain and spasms. They spent two days in the patrol cabin waiting for the snow to settle. On their second departure, they had to spend a night on the trail, with only one sleeping bag. We helped them into the Weasel, leaving one ranger to drive. Darrell, I, and the other ranger from Mammoth skied back to Old Faithful. All was well and the search effort had been short-lived. However, Superintendent Garrison inexplicably became quite exercised over the affair and was of a mind to consider“'pumshimg" Flarry Reynolds, according to a memo that Garrison wrote to District Manager Tom Hyde. Tom wrote a fine defense of Harry’s decisions and the matter faded away. 235

1-107. L-R: Jane (1 V i yrs old), Mary Teresa (4 yrs old), and Kevin (3 yrs old) watching an eruption of Beehive Geyser (reaching a height of about 150 feet), 11 February 1961. 236

During 14-24 February, Dr. Vince Schaefer, from the State University of New York, conducted his first formal "Yellowstone Field Research Expedition" (his first brief winter visit to Old Faithful was described in the January 1960 (Chapter 15). Arrangements had been made to house him and half dozen or so other scientists in the bunkhouse and cookhouse. The objective was interdisciplinary study of atmospheric particles in the geyser basins. Study topics were to involve cloud physics, ice nucleation effects, ice fogs, ice crystal types in natural and artificially seeded supercooled clouds, atmospheric electricity, and air pollution effects from oversnow vehicles. Dr. Schaefer had obtained financial support to conduct this research from the National Science Foundation. The group held seminars every evening. Darrell and I attended as many as we could and found the opportunity for thoughtful scientific discussion most welcome. This turned out to be the first of 11 winter research expeditions led by Dr. Schaefer; they developed into month-long events with a new set of about eight scientists rotating in and out each week. Superintendent Garrison came down from Mammoth, via Weasel snowmachine, to visit Dr. Schaefer and the group near the end of the Expedition. Upon his return to New York, Dr. Schaefer wrote (28 February 1961) to Superintendent Garrison. His letter included the following: “We spent considerable time studying the remarkably pure air of the Old Faithful area and the fascinating condensation phenomena occurring in the vicinity of the geysers and hot springs. The unusual supersaturation effects permitted us to explore a number of condensation phenomena. The unqualified success of our field research seminar resulted in no small part from the fine cooperation received from you and your associates at your headquarters and at West Yellowstone and the facilities provided us. Also of major importance to the smooth operation and successful conduct of our expedition was the friendly cooperation of Riley McClelland and Darrell Coe at Old Faithful. .

Giantess began an eruption at about 9:30 P.M. on 3 February. Pat and I heard it from inside the house; geyser sounds were much more difficult to hear from the other side of the duplex, so I phoned Darrell. He and I quickly got dressed, grabbed flashlights, and snowshoed over to Geyser Hill to observe the display. Although an eruption of Giantess including the steam phase may last more than a day, the most powerful water bursts tend to come near the beginning, so we were always anxious to get to the site as rapidly as possible. During February, Sapphire Geyser continued to put on spectacular eruptions, with some bursts exceeding 150 feet—such a contrast with its pre-earthquake eruptions (6 feet). We continued to see the Three-antlered Elk frequently through February, often with a couple of other old bulls, in a grassy meadow between Old Faithful and Castle Geysers. On 10 March, we could see that he was down on his side in the snow in the meadow; he was not moving. Darrell and I waded through the snow to him and found him dead (1-108). We returned later that day and removed the head with antlers intact and placed it in the Old Faithful Museum courtyard, where other similar artifacts were kept. Years later I heard that the NPS museum curator at Mammoth had deemed the specimen unremarkable and had disposed of it (see Darrell Coe’s [1970] article). Snowcoach trips from West Yellowstone numbered 13 in February and 15 in March. A dog sled also made the trip in March. Also in March, we tallied the highest number (17) of snowplanes from any month during our four winters. On 24 March, the plows arrived and 237

our final snowed-in winter at Old Faithful was history. The dates of arrival of the first snowplow into Old Faithful, after our four winters were: 1958, 26 March; 1959, 16 April; 1960, 21 March; and 1961, 24 March. It had been a pleasure to spend our last Old Faithful winter with Darrell and Jean Coe and their son Kenny. Darrell was a very fine ranger. As always, we were hearing about the usual personnel shuffles. There was a strong rumor that we would be moved to for the summer. We heard that our friend Lee Robinson was transferring to Theodore Roosevelt National Park, , as chief ranger. Every year personnel shuffles and reorganization continued. Pat recorded: "There have been lots of changes in organization—most of them discouraging." We saw the first black bear of the season at Firehole Canyon on 1 April 1961. On 12 April, we saw a grizzly feeding on an elk carcass at Midway Geyser Basin. We continued to operate the recording device for Old Faithful Geyser through April. The mean interval for 1,967 eruptions (Table 2) was 66.9 minutes. The previous winter it was 66.3 minutes.

Mean interval between Month No. of intervals recorded eruptions (minutes)

start on 3 November 264 66.6

December 249 66.7

January 553 67.5

February 344 67.1

March 331 66.2

April 226 67.1

Total intervals and mean for all intervals 1,967 66.9

Table 2. Data from the automatic recorder, Old Faithful Geyser eruptions, winter 1960-61.

During our assignments to Old Faithful, we saw hundreds of eruptions of Old Faithful Geyser; each eruption was different and beautiful. Lt. Cheyney Doane* (1870:139) wrote: “The earth affords not its equal. It is the most lovely inanimate object in existence.” Sapphire Pool had become a major geyser after the 1959 Hebgen Lake Earthquake and we were privileged to witness numerous impressive eruptions. Sapphire’s major eruptive activity would cease after 1961 (Marler 1973) and it apparently has not resumed to this date. Unfortunately, Giant Geyser was dormant during our four winters at Old Faithful.

* In his detailed report concerning the 1870 Expedition, Doane wrote wonderfully emotional, sometimes ethereal, descriptions o f geysers (e.g., Giantess, p. 142) and other natural features. However, at other times he had a very dark side. Doane was responsible for brutal massacre o f defenseless Indian women and children (Black 2012:258) . Somehow, Doane compartmentalized his feelings. 238

1-108. The Three-antlered Elk, dead, near Castle Geyser, 10 March 1961. 239

Each winter we experienced visitation from a small fraction of the number of oversnow vehicles that now visit Old Faithful in a single winter day. The winter following the 1959 earthquake had the lowest number of snowcoach trips during our tenure (Table 3).

Winter Number Totals 1957-58 1958-59 1959-60 1960-61

Snowcoach trips 39 51 27 59 176

Snowcoach passengers 371 526 288 495 1680

Snowplanes 2 4 9 24 39

Snowplane passengers 4 8 20 36 68

Table 3. Commercial snowcoach and private snowplane trips to Old Faithful from West Yellowstone, winters 1957-58 through 1960-61.

The four winters we experienced at Old Faithful did not produce the consistently severe weather we had anticipated (Table 4). The deepest snow depth we measured at the ranger station was 45 inches, on 9 February 1959. In contrast, in mid-January 1952, George Marler reported 72 inches at that location. At the end of January and February 1916, 93 inches snow depth had been reported at Old Faithful. Our minimum temperature was minus 35° F, on 27 January 1961. In 1942, a minimum of minus 50° F was recorded at Old Faithful. Our lowest mean minimum was minus 5° F in January 1958. The lowest mean in the records at Old Faithful was minus 11° F, in February 1911. I could not locate any previous records of total winter snowfall at Old Faithful. Snowfall during our four winters (October through April) averaged 142 inches. During 10 through 14 April, the annual ranger conference was held at Mammoth (1-109). Our summer assignment was announced as Yellowstone Fake, with the move to be made in late May. Our glorious years at Old Faithful were coming to an end. On 28 April 1961 we saw the first bison calves of the season. 240

Winter

Month and Measurement 1957-58 1958-59 1959-60 1960-61

OCTOBER (1) Precip (snowfall)d 1.01 (2) 0.30(3) 1.52(1) 1.37(14) (2) Min. Tempb mean (extreme) 26(13) 22 (7) 25 (8) 23 (-4) (3) Max. Tempb mean (extreme) 73 (48) 69 (57) 60 (48) 66(50)

NOVEMBER (1) 1.69 (26) 2.43 (22) 0.70(12) 2.66 (40) (2) +7 (-27) + 13 (-16) +8 (-25) +13 (-22) (3) 31(45) 33(48) 33 (53) 34 (49)

DECEMBER (1) 2.96 (65) 0.84(17) 0.68(14) 0.71 (10) (2) +9 (-18) + 11 (-21) -1 (-19) -2 (-30) (3) 29 (38) 32 (43) 30 (44) 28 (43)

JANUARY (1) 0.81 (20) 1.44 (30) 1.61 (26) 0.22 (2) (2) -5 (-26) +5 (-32) +1.2 (-32) +3 (-35) (3) 28(40) 26 (44) 24 (39) 32 (42)

FEBRUARY (1) 1.28 (23) 1.18 (32) 1.40 (20) 2.80 (30) (2) + 13 (-15) +5 (-30) -5 (-33) + 12 (-19) (3) 34 (49) 27 (37) 23 (33) 31 (41)

MARCH (1) 1.67 (30) 0.85 (16) 2.21 (30) 1.86 (28) (2) +7 (-16) +6 (-23) +10 (-24) + 10 (-14) (3) 34 (43) 33 (45) 37 (55) 36(49)

APRIL (1) 1.95 (27) 0.03 (1) 1.14(22) 0.71 (4) (2) + 19(0) + 16(0) +20 (-2) +17 (-1) (3) 38 (52) 42 (59) 45 (58) 42 (56)

Total Snowfall3 11.37 (193) 7.07(121) 9.26(126) 10.33 (128)

Table 4. Weather variables recorded during our four winters (1957-58 through 1960-61) at Old Faithful. Maximum monthly snowfall in bold. 3 inches; b degrees F. 241

1-109. Annual Spring Ranger Conference in Yellowstone, 1961 (photo taken on 11 April 1961 by Jack Ellis Haynes). (Courtesy NPS, YNP) L-R Back row:George Tracy (plain clothes - Mammoth Fire Cache Supervisor), Jack Williams (plain clothes), Paul Swearingen, Jim Valder, Jack Hughes, Lee Coleman, Lloyd Hoener, Harry Reynolds, Riley McClelland. Bill Burgen, and Lenn Berg. Third row: Bert McLaren, Wayne Cone (visiting from RMNP), Dick Holder, Bob Howe, Lee Robinson, Tom Milligan, Joe Fraser, Bob Wood. Dale Nuss, A1 Maxey, Darrell Coe, Mike Myers, and Les Gunzel. Second row:Art Hayes, Joe Way, Bob Vicklund, Del Peterson, William S. (Scotty) Chapman, John Good, Ray Sellers, Aubrey Haines (Park Historian), and Howard Chapman. Front row:Robert Morey, Oscar Dick (District Manager), Robert McIntyre (Chief Park Naturalist), Lemuel A. (Lon) Garrison (Superintendent), Nels Murdock (Chief Park Ranger), Luis Gastellum (Assistant Superintendent), Tom Hyde (District Manager), and Lawrence Hadley (Management Assistant). 242 DEFENDING NATIONAL PARK IDEALISM: THE MYSTIQUE

MEMOIRS FROM A CAREER IN THE NATIONAL PARK SERVICE

PART 113. 1961-65

by B. Riley McClelland PART IB. 1961-65

“Indisputably, preservation comes first in law. Indisputably, it comes first in logic—without preservation, the rest is utterly pointless. The time is overdue for the National Park Service to recognize the force of law and logic, to rededicate itself to the preservation ethic, to declare without equivocation that preservation comes first— in short, to embrace philosophically and carry out in our daily stewardship the fundamental mandate laid down in our organic act.” Robert Utley, NPS Historian and Assistant Director, 1974 NPS Newsletter 9(18):7 iii PART IB. 1961-1965 TABLE OF CONTENTS CHAPTER 18. Moving from Old Faithful to Yellowstone Lake (Summer 1961) 243

CHAPTER 19. Living in Headquarters and Assigned to Elk Reduction (1961-62)...... 260

CHAPTER 20. Return to Yellowstone Lake and a Glorious Spring (1962)...... 270

CHAPTER 21. Relative Peace and Quiet: a Winter at Lamar (1962-63)...... 298

CHAPTER 22. Transfer to the Naturalist Division (1963)...... 314

CHAPTER 23. The Mystique Under Attack (1963)...... 324

CHAPTER 24. First Winter as North District Naturalist, at Mammoth Hot Springs (1963-64)...... 327

CHAPTER 25. Final Summer at Mammoth Hot Springs (1964)......

CHAPTER 26 . End of the Dream (1964—65)...... 357

CHAPTER 27. Stephan T. Mather Training Center, Harpers Ferry, West Virginia (1965)...... 366

CHAPTER 28. "Final" Days In Yellowstone (1965)...... 372

POSTSCRIPT. Yellowstone Volunteers (1997, 2000, 2001)...... 372 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS...... 3 7 4 LITERATURE CITED...... 3 7 5 INDEX...... 380 ADDENDUM 1. Time Line for 1949-1965...... 5 pp ADDENDUM 2. McClelland Residences in Yellowstone...... 4 pp

LIST OF DOCUMENTS 20. Lake Ranger Station/Quarters history, Lutz (1988)..251-252 21. Eulogy for Jack Ellis Haynes, Yellowstone Weekly News (17 May 1962)...... 280 22. NPS Newsletter article featuring Wayne Replogle (24 February 1975)...... 23. Memo from E. E. Deao regarding our reassignment (5 April 1965)...... 3 7 0 iv LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 110. Grizzly cub "Ignatz" begging near Mary Bay, July 1 9 6 1 ...... 247 111. Rangers Bob Murphy and Dale Nuss in the Lewis Channel, between Lewis and Shoshone Lakes, 25 September 1961 ...... 255 112. The Snag," on the bank above Yellowstone Lake, across the road from the Lake Ranger Station, after a September snowstorm...... 256 113. "The Snag," as seen from our front door, Lake Ranger Station Residence, October and November 1961...257 114. Unusual ice formations on the shore of Mary Bay, Yellowstone Lake, November 1961 ...... 258 115. "The Snag" with first December ice on Lake, and Mary T., Kevin, and Jane, 15 December 1961...... 259 116. Elk being "driven" to Crystal Creek Elk Trap by helicopters, December 1961 ...... 2 62 117. Sawing antlers off of a bull elk, February 1962 ...... 2 65 118. Ranger Darrell Coe near Imperial Geyser, 26 February 1962...... 2 68 119. Old Faithful Geyser eruption at minus 44° F, 27 February 1962 ...... 269 120. Patrol Car in and snowplow approaching Lake Ranger Station/Residence, 26 March 1962 ...... 272 121. Ranger McClelland removing the winter's snow accumulation from the roof of the Lake Ranger Station/Residence, 26 March 1962 ...... 273 122. McClelland family on Fishing Bridge, 31 March 1962....274 123. Mary Teresa and Kevin wading in Yellowstone Lake, April 1 9 6 2 ...... 275 124a. Yellowstone Lake, April 1962 ...... 27 6 124b. Pat's pastel sketch of Yellowstone Lake ...... 277 125. Annual Spring Ranger Conference in Yellowstone, 27 April 1962 (photo by Jack Ellis Haynes)...... 281-282 12 6. Coyote in Hayden Valley and moose alongside our house, at Yellowstone Lake, Spring 1962 ...... 283 127. Yellowstone Lake ice pushed by wind onto the shore at Mary Bay, 10 May 1962...... 284 128. Yellowstone Lake ice pushed by wind into the NPS boat dock, 11 May 1 9 6 2 ...... 284 129. Flightless Canada Geese at Turbid Lake, 30 June 1962...... 287 130. Ranger-Naturalists Alan Eliason, Bill Lewis, and Bill Baker near Jones Pass, July 1962...... 290 131. Upper Kintla Lake Fire, Glacier National Park, late July 1962 ...... 291 V

132. Ranger McClelland, releasing a black bear in Hayden Valley, summer 1962 ...... 292 133. Brimstone Basin, one mile from the shore of Yellowstone Lake, 20 August 1962 ...... 295 134. Our children, with Siamese kittens, at Lake, September 1962 ...... 296 135. Lamar Ranger Station and Residence, October 1962 ...... 300 136. Lamar Ranger Station and Residence, January 1963...... 300 137. Mary Teresa on gentle horse "Sox," January 1963 ...... 301 138. Kevin at our Lamar Ranger Station Residence, 12 January 1963, temperature minus 53.5° F ...... 304 139. Elk in the Slough Creek Trap, January 1963...... 307 140. Rangers McClelland and Hughes at our camp near Wrong Creek, 12 March 1963 ...... 311 141. Annual Spring Ranger Conference in Yellowstone, 26 April 1963 ...... 312-313 142. Ranger-Naturalist Wayne Replogle (Rip), at a wickiup, 27 June 1963...... 316 143. Ranger-Naturalists Bill Baker and Bill Lewis on , 16 July 1963 ...... 319 144. Pat on the way down the trail, from the Fire Lookout, 31 July 1963...... 320 145. The Eye of "The Needle," upper Cache Creek Drainage, 25 July 1963 ...... 321 146. The 1881 Bathhouse, viewed across Queen's Laundry Hot Spring, Sentinel Meadows, photographed in 1955....322 147. The McClelland family at Norris, January 1964 ...... 329 148. Kevin McClelland in icicle formations created by Steamboat Geyser, January 1964 ...... 329 149. Early morning view of Mt. Sheridan and Patrol Cabin, 25 February 1964 ...... 330 150. Ranger Tom Milligan crossing Witch Creek, at the inlet to Heart Lake, 24 February 1964 ...... 331 151. Temporarily back in Old Faithful Quarters 161B, April 1 9 6 4 ...... 152. The McClelland children viewing an eruption of Old Faithful Geyser, April 1964 ...... 336 153. Park Naturalist McClelland, and Fox, a good horse..... 337 154a. Silk screen poster prepared by artist Bill Chapman, for hikes in the North District, summer 1964 ...... 338 154b. Silk screen poster prepared by artist Bill Chapman for evening program topics at amphitheaters throughout YNP, summer 1964 ...... 3 3 9 155. Rustic signs for the Hot Spring Terrace features...... 342 VI

156. Trumpeter Swan cygnets on Swan Lake Flat, 5 July 1964 ...... 343 157. Ranger-Naturalist Bill Lewis on the summit of Electric Peak, 8 July 1964 ...... 344 158. Minerva Hot Spring Terrace, on the Mammoth Lower Terraces...... 347 159. Bryan Harry and R. McClelland, near Republic Pass, 18 July 1 9 6 4 ...... 348 160. Ranger-Naturalist Replogle in The Hoodoos, 9 August 1964 ...... 349 161. Ranger-Naturalist Bill Baker on , 21 August 1964 ...... 352 162. Lightning photographed from the Norris Geyser Basin parking area, August 1964 ...... 353 163. Ranger-Naturalist Wayne Replogle at his easel, at home in Kansas ...... 354 164a. Steamboat Geyser vicinity with the landscape covered with glare ice, 14 January 1965 ...... 358 164b. Ice laden tree after the 14 January 1965 eruption of Steamboat Geyser ...... 359 165. Mary Teresa, marveling at the "icicles" near Steamboat Geyser, 14 January 1965 ...... 360 166. Fragments of siliceous sinter on ice pedestals, after an eruption of Steamboat Geyser, 14 January 1 9 6 5 ...... 361 167. Icicle decorated trees near Steamboat Geyser, After the 14 January 1965 eruption ...... 362 168. Assistant Chief Ranger Ken Ashley, at the Shoshone Geyser Basin Patrol Cabin, 23 February 1965 ...... 365 169. The class of spring 1965 at the Steven T. Mather Training Interpretive Center, Harpers Ferry, West Virginia...... 368-369

Closing Quote illustrated...... 373a-373b

LIST OF TABLES Table No. Title 5. Bear management incidents within Yellowstone National Park. 1957-62...... 297 243

PART IB. 1961-1965.

CHAPTER 18. Moving from Old Faithful to Yellowstone Lake (Summer 1961)

in May, before we moved to Lake, where we were to have a furnished apartment, we moved most of our belongings into an upstairs unit in a Quadraplex in Mammoth (House 4, unit A). The apartment unit was in one of four large stone and frame buildings that were originally Officers' Quarters in , just north of the Mammoth Hot Spring Terraces. The buildings that constituted Fort Yellowstone had been constructed beginning in 1891 for the U.S. Cavalry. The military managed the Park from 1886 until civilian administration returned to stay, in 1918 (civilian rule from 1872 to 1886 had been largely ineffective). On 10 May 1961, we moved to Lake. By this time my salary had risen to $5,850/annum. My boss was James W. B. (Byrne) Packard, the Sub-District Ranger. Harry V. Reynolds was the District Ranger and Tom Hyde the District Manager. Bob Nadon was the Senior Seasonal Ranger. The naturalist activities program was operated out of the , with Lowell Biddulph as Acting District Naturalist. The housing at Lake was quite a comedown after our rustic and relatively private quarters at Old Faithful and Snake River. We were in a two-bedroom apartment (709 H), a poorly constructed, and thus noisy, facility. The unit had some curious features. There was a razor blade disposal slot in the back of the medicine cabinet above the bathroom sink. The slot in our cabinet was flush with the slot in the bathroom of the adjacent apartment. I suppose if you really liked your neighbor you could pass messages, instead of used razor blades, back and forth via this passage. Our neighbors were NPS landscape architect Bill Rosenberg and wife Loma. Loma was pleasant and very nice to our kids. Bill was generally a grump—perhaps because of the inevitable noise from four children. Bill and I both taped over the razor slot on our respective sides! People in an apartment could hear everything that was going on next door. We were fortunate in having an end apartment, so had only one immediate neighbor. However, we used to be able to hear, and feel, a bass being played by a permanent ranger (Paul Swearingen) who lived in the opposite end of our apartment building, six units away. That’s the kind of living quarters Mission 66 gave park employees. Pat and I would have much preferred to have continued in primitive and private abodes which had been replaced. In the spring, shortly after we moved to Lake, Kevin (3 yrs old) had a mishap that could have resulted in drowning. He was playing a marching game along the edge of the street in front of the apartments. He was following Susan Packard (6 yrs old) and Mary T. (4 years), tromping through snowmelt puddles. Pat was momentarily occupied with another child in the apartment. Mary T. burst into the room and announced to Pat that “Kevin is gone in the water. He had stepped into a deep, water-filled hole that was supposed to have a fire hydrant in it. It was deeper than Kevin and narrow so that he could not have gotten out by himself and the girls weren't strong enough to help him. As Pat ran out the door, Norma Hyde, who lived in the unit closest to where the kids were playing, had seen Kevin disappear and she had reached the spot and was pulling Kevin out. He was wet but not hurt. The maintenance division had been negligent in not blocking off the death trap for an 244 unsuspecting child. On 27 May, the last ice on Yellowstone Lake melted. Yellowstone Lake added a very different dimension to ranger responsibilities. Motorboat operation was new to me so I spent much of the summer learning. Seasonal Ranger Lynn Thompson was in charge of boat patrol with Don Yestness as second. Lynn previously had worked as a seasonal ranger on road patrol at Old Faithful in 1958, when 1 was stationed there. Lynn ultimately became the Superintendent of YONP (1971-74) and then Regional Director of the Rocky Mountain Region, stationed in Denver (1974-78). The Lake assignment provided an opportunity for expanded wildlife viewing on days off, with the Yellowstone Lake and River habitats. White pelicans Pelecanus(. erythrorhynchos), double-crested cormorants,{Thai aero cor ax auritus), harlequinsHistrionicus ( histrionicus) and other ducks, swans, geese, and other water birds were important parts of the Lake ecosystem. Nearby Hayden Valley was a prime location for bison and grizzlies. Moose were common in the Pelican Valley and were occasionally seen near the housing area. Although law enforcement duties at Lake were similar to those I had at Old Faithful, the visitor facilities were more spread out, with three major foci of activity: the Lake Lodge complex, the complex, and the Fishing Bridge complex. Each with many smaller separate “satellite” facilities. There was little time available to devote to natural resource matters other than bear /people problems. In 1961, there was much excitement at Lake involving a large grizzly mother (Sylvia) and her cub of the year (named “Ignatz” by the Craigheads). Sylvia started the spring of 1961 with three cubs of the year. She spent the month of May and the first week of June in the Old Faithful area, entertaining observers and worrying rangers (I had transferred to Lake by that time). Observations and management actions are discussed in detail in a Special Incident Report written by Old Faithful Sub-District Ranger Lee Robinson on 9 June 1961 (Yellowstone Archives). Although Sylvia and the three cubs dug roots in meadows near the and near the main road in the Midway Geyser Basin area, there is no record of her attempting to hurt anyone. She also spent some time in the Old Faithful Campground. She often was in proximity to naive park visitors who kept trying to approach her closely for a photograph. Day-to-day baby sitting by Old Faithful rangers kept the observers at a distance. The Craighead team intervened at the request of Lee Robinson on 8 June; unfortunately, the eventual outcome was no better than it had been with the mother and three cubs at Old Faithful in summer 1960 (previously discussed). Sylvia and the three cubs were tranquillized in the Old Faithful Campground and placed in culvert traps, Sylvia and one cub in one trap and the other two cubs in a second trap. They apparently were released somewhere in the Hayden Valley area. However, I could find no record of how many of the cubs actually survived the incident. The details that follow are further documented in a memorandum that I wrote on 14 February 1962, and from monthly reports from the Old Faithful Sub-District in 1960 and 1961, and the Lake Sub-District in 1961. On 15 July, rangers at Lake became directly involved with Sylvia and Ignatz, who had been tagged with long yellow streamers attached to his ears). In the Park Archives, I could find no record regarding what happened to the other two cubs. On the 15th. Sylvia and Ignatz-were observed two miles south of Dragon’s 245

Mouth, headed toward Fishing Bridge. At 11:15 A.M. they were at the Fishing Bridge boat dock. They continued south, walking and running down the Yellowstone Lake shoreline below Fishing Bridge, scattering fishermen all the way to Bridge Bay. Sylvia passed within a few feet of several panicked fishermen without overtly threatening anyone. In addition to several rangers (including me), the Craighead team also had been following Sylvia. The team tranquilized her with a dart gun at Bridge Bay. Ignatz ran off. Sylvia,was never seen again in the Lake area. Craighead (1979:37) stated that she was sent to a New York city zoo, but he describes this occurring immediately after she was captured at Old Faithful on 8 June; this date is impossible because she subsequently appeared in the Lake area as just described. For the remainder of the summer, poor little Ignatz was observed near daily, usually in the Mary Bay area, begging for food from willing park visitors (1-110). Ignatz moved into the Lake area as snow arrived and the East Entrance Road was closed to public travel. Craighead (1979:42) stated: “ . . . he [Ignatz] moved to the high timbered country: southwest of Lake Lodge, where he dug a cave-like shelter and went into hibernation.” This is not accurate. Ignatz returned to the East Entrance road and hibernated in a road culvert at Steamboat Point. In his book “Track of the Grizzly,” Frank Craighead (1979:42) stated: “In spring he reappeared his healthy condition living proof that a cub without a mother could survive the long, cold Yellowstone winter. But his ability to survive natural hazards could not protect him from his own bad habits. Early in the spring of 1961, Ignatz was shot by park rangers as a potential threat to human beings.” Unfortunately, this is again a fabrication. The truth, was recorded in the May 1962 Lake Sub-District Monthly Report: “On May 8, a young grizzly ' yearling (better known as Ignatz) was trapped near the 10-mile post on the East Entrance , :road, and was transported to Mammoth on the following day, where he was to be held until shipment could be made to the Bismark, North Dakota zoo. It was later deemed necessary to release this bear in the vicinity of the Crystal Springs Elk Trap, near Specimen Ridge.” The final (accurate) episode in the life of Ignatz occurred on 28 September 1962, when Ranger Darrell Coe found Ignatz’s “remains” in the trees at the west end of Elk Park (south of Norris Geyser Basin). Coe reported (on Individual Report of Dead Bear, form YEL-374, September 29, 1962): “The bear had been dead for at least one week and was partially consumed by a coyote.” Coe also recorded: “The bear was tagged in both ears. The tag in the right ear was yellow. The color of the tag in the left ear could not be determined.” This is precisely the same description of the tags that we photographed in Ignatz when he was captured at Lake in May 1962 (1-110). Frank Craighead (1979) discussed in detail the his team’s involvement in management and research actions with numerous grizzlies, including Sylvia#31) (Bear and Ignatz (Bear #78). Unfortunately, the discussions involving Sylvia have many inaccuracies, as described above. I was stationed at Old Faithful in summer 1960 and at Lake in 1961 and 1962; in the latter two years I was involved in management actions involving both Sylvia and Ignatz. The initial Sylvia and cubs issue occurred in 1961. The Craighead book describes it as a 1960 event. That might be considered a small error. However, the author mixes details from three separate grizzly immobilization events in the Old Faithful Campground, two from 1960 and the Sylvia story from 1961, all involving cubs. 246

One of the actual 1960 events involved the grizzly mother and three cubs which I previously described, in which the mother grizzly succumbed to a second dose of sucostrin (succinylcholine chloride) administered by Researcher # 1. A separate episode, on 2 September 1960, involved immobilizing a large male grizzly (Bear #1) that weighed 520 pounds at that time. Lee Robinson and 1 helped Frank Craighead and Maurice Hornocker load the huge bear into a culvert trap. Frank asserts that he also was trying to capture Ignatz in that same episode, but Ignatz was not bom until the following year. The cub involved on 2 September 1960 was a survivor of the trio whose mother had died from the sucostrin dose earlier that year. Unfortunately, the Sylvia and cubs story from 1961 becomes further confused within the Craighead description of 1960 events. One can only speculate why there are so many errors in these Craighead descriptions. Frank Craighead’s book was published 18 years after the Sylvia episode occurred. Perhaps a writing assistant, so many years after the events, was careless in sorting out notes and journal entries. Additionally, Frank apparently saw no need to describe the events as they actually occurred. In the Preface of his book, Frank states: “ . .. The author has taken the liberty of attributing certain activities of one grizzly to another, or of combining a number of separate incidents into a sequence of events. The purpose of this was to give continuity and coherence to the narrative; it in no way detracts from the validity of the information.”

It seems to me that Frank Craighead’s decision to eschew accuracy was unfortunate. I cannot see how telling the true stories of the bear families on which he and John conducted research would have detracted from coherence or continuity. The story of Ignatz, as it actually happened, was more interesting than the one fabricated by Frank. And it would have been a true story rather than a concocted one. This mixing of facts from one bear family to another would seem to make Frank Craighead’s book a novel rather than a scientist’s description of his research. In the overall context of the Craigheads’ work, perhaps this is a minor issue. John and Frank Craighead surely deserve the accolades they have received for their accomplishments in wildlife research and conservation. The 1961 summer started very dry and I was involved with three fires: the Stonetop Mountain Fire (3 acres, 1-2 July), the Promontory Fire (0.1 acres, 7-8 July), and the Madison River Fire (600 acres, 23-26 July). The Promontory Fire was on a high point of land along Yellowstone Lake. It was burning in ground fuel in the immediate vicinity of a lightning-struck tree. It was a long boat ride to the fire; seasonal ranger Lynn Thompson and I were all that it took to control the fire in several hours. In a lapse of common sense, we forgot to load a backpack water pump on the boat and wound up hauling water in our hardhats to pour on the embers. It was one of many fires that should have been allowed to bum. In late July, we heard about a fire in the Gallatin Mountains (northwest comer of the Park), the Crags Fire, that had been declared out and abandoned by the ranger in charge. However, embers apparently remained and the fire flared up several days later. On 25 July, Sub-District Ranger Byrne Packard was sent to be Fire Boss on the rekindled fire. This led to a new policy in which a permanent ranger was required to remain on a fire for 48 hours after the last smoke was detected; it was not a popular policy. 247

1-110. Grizzly cub “Ignatz,” with long yellow ear markers attached by the Craighead team. Photographed near Mary Bay, Yellowstone Lake, July 1961. 248

On 23 August, eleven rangers from YNP were dispatched to the Queets Fire in Olympic National Park, Washington. We were instructed to get to Billings, Montana, for a commercial flight to Seattle. Permanent rangers Darrell Coe, one other YNP ranger (X)(I shall withhold his name), and I were instructed to drive to West Yellowstone, from which the YNP smokejumper plane flew us to Billings. In the jumper plane, Darrell and I were in back seats (unfortunately, Darrell always got sick in the back seat); X was next to the pilot. X was distinctly intoxicated and very obnoxious. As we were crossing the Snowy Range, between the peaks, the sot’s rambling and ranting distracted the pilot for several minutes at a critical time. Darrell and I thought we were going to fly directly into a peak face. I poked the pilot and he regained his proper attention focus just in time. The inebriated ranger often was in this condition, yet the NPS in YNP never successfully dealt with the issue (perhaps his supervisors tried). X transferred to another park several years later. We boarded the commercial flight in Billings and arrived safely at the Queets Fire, in Olympic Park’s rain forest. It had been an unusually dry spring and summer and the rain forest was extraordinarily desiccated. I was on the fire for nine days before rain finally came and our crew was released. I was crew boss with a native American crew from Washington state. They were hard workers and responsive to assignments. It was a strange fire to work, for those of us from the Rocky Mountains—the trees were so huge! Nothing like a 300-ft tall, 8-ft diameter tree burning through at the roots and falling. Firefighters much farther than 300 feet from the base of the falling tree were vulnerable to broken limbs flying and other trees being knocked over by the first one. It was very unnerving to hear this going on at night. I discovered that Bob Frauson also was on the fire. Bob, whom I had first met at RMNP in 1954, was heading up a climbing team that was doing rope work to access fuel burning within steep cliff areas above the Queets River Valley. The YNP crew was released from the fire on 31 August, when rain started. On our return to YNP, we were flown to Butte from Seattle in a charter airliner, then bussed to the Park. The Queets Fire was a memorable experience. But, it should have been left to bum; no facilities were jeopardized. During the summer of 1961, Yellowstone Lake zoning was being implemented. The new plan (very controversial with the public) initially proposed prohibiting the use of motorboats on the southern part of Yellowstone Lake, including the arms. At the time, motorboats could go anywhere on the Lake (except the relatively tiny Flat Mountain Ami). Exclusion from the south end would have created about half of the large Lake as defacto wilderness. Superintendent Lon Garrison came to Lake to go on a boat patrol to get a good look at the proposed closure in the Arms and south part of the Lake. A couple of other rangers and I were assigned to take Garrison in a patrol boat. We had the, boat all ready when Superintendent Garrison arrived from Mammoth. It had been raining and all the boat surfaces were slippery. Lon walked down the dock to the boat and was obviously impatient about getting the patrol underway. Rather than waiting for assistance, he jumped from the dock down into the boat, a 4 or 5 foot drop. As he hit the wet floor of the boat, his feet instantly slid out from under him and he crashed hard. He was a large man, so there was plenty of momentum when he hit. We thought he would certainly have some broken bones. The breath was knocked out of him, but he gradually regained 249 normal breathing and after recovering from the shock there didn't seem to be (and wasn't) any serious injury, rhe patrol went as planned, but Lon was obviously shaken and hurting, so he was grumpy and asked few questions. The upshot on the Lake zoning controversy was that motorboats were excluded only from the southernmost two miles of the South and Southeast Arms, and Flat Mountain Ann. On all parts of the Lake, boats less than 16 feet long were required to stay within a quarter mile of shore (that subsequently changed and is now only a recommendation). There also were speed limit zones (5 m.p.h.) in the Lake Arms north of the no-motor zones. The boat patrols were busy putting up buoys to mark the no motor zone and speed zone boundaries in summer 1961. The boating lobby and politicians, even nearly 50 years ago, were too strong and influential for the NPS to emphasize wilderness use over recreational use on the majority of the Lake. The effort came too late. However, Lon Garrison deserves great credit for getting any zoning at all (see Garrison’s (1983] autobiography). For a period of several weeks during the summer we were plagued by a series of harassing phone calls. They were coming from a young girl (she said her name was Linda), who would say very little to me and would often just call repeatedly and say nothing. Finally, the telephone company was able to trace the calls. They were coming from a 12 yrs-old girl who was left alone during the day while her parent(s) worked. She was phoning from a pay phone at Canyon. It was a relief to have the calls end. We couldn't change our telephone number because I had to be available for emergencies at all hours on the advertised number. By late August we were hearing rumors that we would be sent to either East Entrance or Mammoth for the winter. Boat patrols often were called on to rescue people whose boat had capsized in the Lake. After the people were safe, we then retrieved the swamped boat. There were drownings in the Lake every summer. There also were drownings in the , between Lake and Canyon. Boats were not allowed on the river, so the victims were inevitably fishermen. For example, on 21 August 1961, a 16 year-old boy drowned in the river, near Mud Volcano. He was wearing hip boots and fishing a deep hole from a shallow riffle above the hole. He slipped, went into the water, and was quickly carried into the deep hole, where his boots filled and he sank. Although travel dropped rapidly after Labor Day, private boat use on the Lake continued well into the fall. Long after dark on the evening of 11 September, I received a phone call at our apartment. It was a report of a boat that had flooded and two occupants had swum to shore. These survivors reported one man possibly still in the boat, and another couple clinging to the boat. Byrne Packard and I rushed to briefly question the survivors to try to determine the location of the boat. The survivors, a man and woman probably in their 30s, were hypothermic, but could talk. We got what information they could give, then had them transported to a warm shower, and medical treatment if necessary. They explained that they (father, son and daughter-in-law), and another couple, were in the boat (an 18-ft cabin cruiser), returning to the dock after a day of fishing on Yellowstone Lake. The boat had an enclosed cab and was powered by two very large outboard motors. The weather had turned stormy, with wind and snow and the temperature in the low 30°s. When the boat was slowed suddenly, the wake came crashing over the stem, into the boat and causing it to rapidly begin 250

sinking. The two outboard motors obviously were too heavy for the size of the boat. There was far too little freeboard in the stem, making it inevitable that a large trailing wave would wash over the stem if the boat suddenly slowed. The two couples secured their life vests and clambered out of the cab; they apparently tried to persuade the father to come with them. He would not do so. He apparently was terminally ill and had recently been despondent. The son thought that perhaps he sensed an opportunity for a resolution to this suffering. The boat was about 3/4 mile from shore. In most cases this would have been a predictably fatal situation for all on board. The four people in the water could see lights on shore. The son and wife decided to start swimming to shore; miraculously, they made it. An individual on the Lake Boat Dock heard their cries for help at the dock; he phoned us immediately. The couple said that when they left the boat, it was not fully submerged. They described to us where they thought the boat was, in relation to the dock. We raced to the patrol boat and began scanning with a small search light. After half an hour or so we spotted the boat. Only a few feet of the bow and the front of the cab were above water. The other couple was still clinging to the boat. With the searchlight we could see that there was no one else in the small air pocket at the top of the cab. We got the couple onto the patrol boat and raced back to the dock, from which the couple was taken to medical help. Tom Hyde, District Manager joined us at the dock and went with us on the next trip to the mostly submerged boat. We searched the surrounding area while radioing to make arrangements to have the boat towed to shore by a larger boat. When the disabled craft reached shore, we found the last man still in the cab, with the door closed. He had indeed chosen to die quickly by drowning. Construction activities at the new (Mission 66) Bridge Bay Marina, a few miles south of the Lake area facilities, was scheduled to continue until the middle of December and a ranger would be needed to stay at Lake until the contractor stopped work—that was me! We were very excited about staying late into the fall and the added bonus was that on 15 September we got to move into the ranger station quarters, 150 feet from the shore of Yellowstone Lake. The following two-page article (D-20) by Lutz (1988) describes the station: 251

BY MARILYN LUTZ THE LAKE RANGER

STATION r

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RESTORING A TRADITION. Eariymu.e and dining room office, dormitory and bath with ample history of the National Park Service, Yellowstone Superinten­ hall and closets. Logs have been utilized in the construc­ dent Horace M. Albright and NPS Director Stephen T. Mather tion o f the station with roof of sawed shakes and with a envisioned rangers as far more than law enforcement officers. broad terrace o f flat stones. They saw a need for rangers trained to guide visitors and explain Merritt I. Tuttle of Fromberg, MT, was the contractor- the wonders of the park. Consequendy, when the Service neededbuilder for the Lake Ranger Station. The logs and other rustic to replace ranger stations at Lake, Canyon, and the Northeast materials he used in its construction helped harmonize the Entrance, they worked with architects to incorporate “ commu­development with the natural landscape. Mather called the com­ nity rooms” into the plans. These areas were intended to givepleted station a “ triumph of woodland architecture.” Of the rangers a place to meet with visitors and talk about the park.three ranger stations mentioned above, Lake Station is the only Referring to Lake Ranger Station in his 1922 Annual Report,one remaining. Superintendent Albright wrote: During the day, the Lake Ranger Station provided summer The plans for this building, developed by the landscapevisitors with a place to get their bearings and any information Engineering Division o f the Park Service, have given us they might need. In the evenings, visitors gathered in the a structure unique in type and at the same time well suited octagonal community room for entertaining nature lectures. In for its requirements. The large community room forms an the winter the station served as a hub from which ski patrols octagon in plan which is slightly less than forty feet across. were launched. In the center is a great stone fire place, open on four sides, A north wing was added in the 1930s to accommodate per­ which will present a campfire effect. A wing 26 feet by manent residents. 38 feet provides quarters for the rangers stationed at this Over the years, the station’s log exterior deteriorated in the junction, the space being divided into a combined kitchenharsh winter weather, and its decorations of elk antlers, bison

July 1988COURIER 9

D-20. The Lake Ranger Station/Quarters history, Lutz (1988). 252

La/ce Ranger Station in 1949.

skulls, and sheep horns were removed. The great stone fire­patible lights, wrought iron hardware and doors, and repaired place was covered over and the octagon room was partitionedand cleaned the newly exposed logs and rafters. Office space into office space. was relocated to the west wing, and the residential addition was We now recognize the historical and architectural sig­ remodeled. nificance of the Lake Ranger Station. It has been nominated The structure continues to be used as a ranger station and to the National Register of Historic Places, and in 1985 work permanent residence, but now it more closely resembles its began to restore the structure’s exterior. original appearance. The NPS contracted Dr. Harrison Goodall of Conservation It is fitting that Horace Albright was remembered at the Services, a specialist in preserving log structures, to stabilize rededication service of the Lake Ranger Station in the spring the exterior. Deteriorated log ends, rafters, and sill logs were of 1987. His vision of rangers as guides or interpreters of Yel­ replaced, and the foundation was repaired. The roof waslowstone was farsighted, as interpretation remains part of every replaced with double-coursed wood shingles and new ridge polespark employee’s job. He and Mather would have been pleased to match the original. Goodall also matched historic paint colorsto know that naturalists once again presented interpretive pro­ and chinking materials. grams in the Lake Ranger Station Community Room last Crews worked meticulously to make the restoration as summer. authentic as possible. For example, the original daubing was analyzed and found to contain beach sand from the Fishing Bridge area and elk hair to bond the mortar together. For the restoration, the same beach sand, bonded this time with up­ holstery hair, was used. In 1986 and 1987, National Park Service crews restored the interior of the octagon and remodeled the station’s office and residential space. This was the first real restoration effort on an interior nominated to the National Register in Yellowstone. A cooperative effort between the Maintenance and Ranger Divi­ sions met this challenge. Marilyn Lutz was an intern working at Yellowstone’s Public Workers reopened the octagonal community room, and theInformation Office as part of her graduate program at Miami massive stone fireplace was seen for the first time in many years. University (Oxford, OH), during the time she developed this Crews replaced the wooden floor, installed architecturally com­series o f articles.

10 COURIER July 1988

D-20 (concluded). 253

The north end of the building was the ranger station and the south end was the quarters (191), where we lived. It had a kitchen, bathroom, livingroom, and two small bedrooms. It was nice to be back with wood heating and cooking stoves. On the edge of the bank above the Lake, right out our living room window, was a picturesque and photogenic snag that provided great views from the house. Bear management work had been a major concern all summer. This involved trapping bears in Pelican Creek and Fishing Bridge Campgrounds and “begging” bears along roadsides, then relocating them, usually somewhere in Hayden Valley. When we had moved into the lakeside ranger station, we had occasional “visits” by black bears. On two occasions, as the family sat at the kitchen table eating supper, a large black bear stood up with front paws against the outside of the kitchen door window, peering in. He was easily chased away. However, because of this habituated behavior, we had to watch the kids very carefully whenever they were outside. I accompanied Rangers Dale Nuss and Bob Murphy on an overnight trip to Shoshone Geyser Basin on 25-26 September (ostensibly to conduct a “hazard” survey). Bob Murphy (who was visiting Nuss) was stationed in GNP at that time; he had been a ranger in YNP before transferring in spring 1957. Bob later wrote an interesting book describing his encounterers with bears (Murphy 2006). We took a boat across , through the Lewis Channel, and across Shoshone Lake to the shore access to the Shoshone Geyser Basin and Patrol Cabin. The Lewis Channel was shallow and the boat had to be dragged in places (1-111); we took along waders for this purpose. This was a traditional and annual trip for Dale Nuss, primarily for the purpose of fishing for large brown trout that were spawning in the Channel. It was indeed good fishing and the fish were very large (several pounds). As fall progressed, the changing moods of the Lake provided a variety of backdrops for “The Snag (1-112, 1-113). October 1961 was a very stormy month. We recorded 40 inches of snowfall and a month's end snow depth of 9 inches. Minimum temperature for the month was 4°. There were a few mild and dry days and we took advantage of them. On 12 October, when we were finally getting consistent days off again, we made a trip to the Firehole River to fish. Pat recorded that fishing was: .. tremendous. The kids and I [Pat] hshed too (we didn't keep any; just played fish Riley hooked for us and then released them)." Heavy snows started in November and the road to Mammoth was plowed only on Mondays and Fridays. It was a marvelous opportunity to watch fall and early winter arrive at Yellowstone Lake. In early November we saw a cow moose in front of our quarters. In the second week of November, on several days I counted 60 swans in Yellowstone Lake, from the Lake Ranger Station to Mary Bay. By this time there was a foot of undrifted snow at the house. In his November Monthly Report, Acting South District Manager Harry Reynolds noted: “Spectacular ice formations developed along the beach at Mary Bay during prevailing below zero temperatures at the beginning of the month. Park Ranger McClelland observed water from huge waves driven before a strong southwest wind freeze to form shelves and cones of ice along the north shore of the bay. As each wave rolled into shore, it was observed to How under the ice shelves, then gush up through the small openings in eight foot ice cones which capped the shelves. These 254

formations appeared as if the beach were lined with many small cold-water geysers” [1-114]. Reynolds also commented in the November Report: “Acting Lake Sub-District Ranger B. Riley McClelland remained in residence at the Lake Ranger Station throughout the month. As he was the only ranger in residence in the Lake/Canyon/Norris area, he contributed considerable uncompensated overtime while discharging his responsibilities. During the month, he patrolled a total of 2,123 road miles, as well as an additional 14 miles via snowshoes and skis. He conducted daily checks on contractors located or working near Lake, Canyon, and Norris, conducted observations of wildlife and thermal activity, and provided for the general security of the area.”

There were 25 contractor employees in the Lake/Canyon/Norris area at the end of the month. Taggart Construction Company employees and their cook, at Canyon, created a number of problems by failing to properly dispose of garbage and by feeding a mother black bear and cub. We received word that we would spend the winter in Mammoth. This was somewhat of a relief since we already had our furniture in the front row house where we would be living (of course our real preference would have been to remain at Lake, but that was not an option). We were also told that we could not use the park van; I would have to haul our belongings from Lake to Mammoth in numerous loads in the station pickup when the time came to leave Lake. We were told to plan on moving to Mammoth on 15 December. By 22 November, we had 2 feet of undrifted snow and there were 7-foot-deep drifts in Hayden Valley. Pat loved the view ot Yellowstone Lake from our living room windows and from the surrounding terrain. On one occasion (26 November), we saw four otters playing in the Lake, directly in front of the house. She wrote: "I grow fonder of the view here every day. It is as beautiful as Old Faithful." We had only one neighbor at Lake in the late fall, Gerry Bateson, the Yellowstone Park Company winterkeeper, and his wife Thelma. Gerry’s son, Gerry Jr., has written an interesting account of his parents’ many years in YNP (Bateson (2011). Our children used to love to visit the Batesons to see the bird feeder near their house; a porcupine often was perched on top of the feeder. By the end of November, the snow depth was 25 inches. I continued to photograph the snag in front of our house, as the lake mood changed, and as ice began to form on the lake (1-115). On the night of 10-11 December, the Lake’s ice cover was complete. With the road closed to the public and contractor employees seldom venturing out of their work sites, it seemed as if we had all of Yellowstone Lake and its shores just to ourselves. It now reminds us of what David Folsom had written, referring to his final view of Yellowstone Lake, during the 1869 Folsom-Cook-Peterson Expedition. Folsom wrote: “It is a scene of transcendent beauty which has been viewed by few white men, and we felt glad to have looked upon it before primeval solitude should be broken by the crowds of pleasure seekers which at no distant day will throng to its shores” (Haines 1996a:99). 255

1-111. Rangers Bob Murphy (at the bow) and Dale Nuss in the Lewis Channel, between Lewis and Shoshone Lakes, 25 September 1961. 256

1-112. “The Snag,”on the bank above Yellowstone Lake, across “The Grand Loop Road” from the Lake Ranger Station/Residence, after a snowstorm on 23 September 1961. 257

1-113. "The Snag,” as seen from our front porch at the Lake Ranger Station/Residence Top: October 1961. Bottom: November 1961. 258

1-114. Unusual ice cone formations on the shore of Mary Bay, Yellowstone Lake, first week in November 1961. 259

1-115. IQp:"The Snag,” on the first day of ice coverage on the Lake, 12 December 1961, viewed from our front porch at the Lake Ranger Station Residence. Bottom: L-RMary Teresa, Kevin, and Jane on moving day to Mammoth from Lake, 15 December 1961. 260

CHAPTER 19. Living in Headquarters and Assigned to Elk Reduction (1961-62)

We would have loved to have spent the winter at Lake, but on 15 December we moved to Mammoth as instructed (as if we had any choice!). The winter of 1961-62 at Mammoth was not one of my most pleasant times in YNP. My primary assignment was on the elk reduction program. In autumn 1961, the northern Yellowstone elk population was estimated to be about 10,000 animals. NPS biologists and other federal and state biologists had concluded that the carrying capacity of the northern range was 5,000 elk. The winter of 1961-62 was to be the all-out effort to bring the population down to 5,000 elk and keep it there in subsequent years. This meant that about 5,000 elk had to be removed, most by shooting. I was involved in both the shooting and the trapping aspects. Going out before dawn to get in a position to kill as many elk as possible was not my idea of appealing duty for a park ranger. Rangers generally were equipped with 30-06 rifles with scopes. Most shooting teams drove to roadside shooting locations between Mammoth and Pebble Creek. Weasels were used extensively and there was no compunction about driving the machines wherever they could be coaxed to go. Because there was often only shallow snow in many of the locations between Mammoth and the Lamar Valley, the tank-like tracks of the Weasels tore up the terrain and left long-term scars on many slopes. Where the Weasels had been driven through big sagebrush(.Artemisia tridentatci), rabbitbrush (Chrysothamnus nauseosus), and grassland areas, tracks could still be seen decades later. As well as being used to transport shooters to backcountry sites, Weasels were used to drag the dead elk to the roadside (the paved road from Mammoth to Northeast Entrance). At roadside locations, Native American members of various tribes gutted the elk, which were then hauled to the reservation from which the workers had come. Temporary storage sites, especially at Lamar, often were used; dozens of carcasses could be seen hanging from hanging racks constructed from locally cut trees. It was such an incongruity—shooting elk within a national park. From our tenting locations we often found only small groups of elk, or lone bulls. The only limitation on whether elk should be shot was that they had to be accessible for removal by Weasel. Otherwise, instructions were to shoot everything, bulls, cows, and calves. Hiking through snow into locations not too far from the road we often got into larger groups of 50 or more. I remember going out with A1 Maxey one morning somewhere near Tower Falls. After walking an hour or so we crept up to the top of a hill overlooking a small meadow in which elk often bedded for the night. When we reached the hilltop, it was still too dark to shoot, but we could make out at least 20 or 30 elk. When there was sufficient light, we began blasting away. Prior to this time, I had never hunted anything in my life other than pheasants near Denver. A1 and I probably killed 15 or 20 elk. When we hiked down to the site where they lay, a few were not dead. They were dispatched at close range. It was a sickening episode. Looking back on that morning, and the many other mornings that winter when I shot as many elk as possible, as assigned to do, I am filled with revulsion by the memory. Direct reduction was an exceedingly unpleasant assignment to some rangers; to others it was enjoyable to do all that shooting at live targets. Everyone involved had to become inured to 261 the wholesale slaughter. Helicopters became a primary “tool” in the elk reduction program. Two or three helicopters working together were able to haze elk herds for up to five miles (1-116). The elk were driven into a trap, with trap “wings” extended hundreds of feet out from the trap entrance to direct the elk. Helicopter hazing also was used to force elk into a position where they could be killed “efficiently.” Shooters would position themselves above a constricted passage in the terrain or where there was a wide-open space in easy shooting range. The elk were frightened by the ear-shattering shock waves from the helicopter rotors and large numbers of elk could be "driven" together. A herd of a hundred or more elk would appear within range of the shooters. The helicopters, working in the same way that sheep dogs keep stock together, kept the elk tightly grouped. The elk usually stood or milled about, exhausted from running for miles. An ice fog mist (from elks’ rapid respiration) rapidly appeared over the herd in sub-zero temperatures. Then the shooters simply slaughtered them in place. Many elk were initially wounded; some ran around with shattered legs flailing about, before someone finally got in a fatal shot. It was less humane than a cattle slaughter house. And this was happening in a national park! It was very disturbing and embarrassing to be involved in the affair. However, most biologists and managers had decided that this was the only way to save Yellowstone’s Northern Range from serious overgrazing. At the time, direct reduction and trapping of elk were considered by most biologists to be essential if healthy populations of elk, bighorn sheep(Ovis canadensis), pronghorn, and bison, were to survive. The surrounding state’s politicians - most of them - believed that public hunting should be part of the reduction program. Fortunately the NPS and Department of Interior held firm against this approach. Public hunting would have meant disaster for national park values. The elk and bison reduction programs conducted by park personnel were bad enough. The perpetual controversy over the management of Yellowstone’s Northern Range is covered in numerous publications. The ecological and political details are too complex and the perceptions too varied for me to discuss the issue in detail, but additional comments are found in Part 2, pages 307-308. At one point I was assigned to work with Ranger Bob Morey in the backcountry. Our duty station was a tent near Garnet Hill. We had hay as the tent floor and heavy duty sleeping bags. With the temperature below zero every morning it was cold duty. On 7-8 January 1962, 19 inches of snow fell at Mammoth (reportedly, the greatest snowfall at Mammoth since 1916) and the temperature fell to minus 30° F. There was less snow at Lamar (nearer to where our tent was), but the temperatures were much colder; it was minus 50° F on 9 January and minus 55° F on the 10th. We had to arise from our bags and be ready to go out “hunting” on snowshoes by first light. Tent locations were reached by oversnow vehicle (Weasel). After several nights in the tent with Morey, I came down with a respiratory infection and was on sick leave for nine days. 1-116. Elk being “driven” to the Crystal Creek Elk Trap by helicopters (one is lower left), December 1961 (photo by W. Leslie Pengelly, in a helicopter). 263

With antibiotics, I gradually got over the illness, but because I was still weak, as of 21 January I was assigned to work at the Mammoth and Gardiner live elk traps with Peterson, Guse, Trankle, and Orgill. At other times I helped Bob Wood at the Lamar and Crystal Creek traps. These were permanent large corral traps. Ranger Leon Evans (1939:30-31) described the trapping as it occurred in the late 1930s: “The corrals used to trap elk are usually circular and a complete trap consists of two large corrals, one or more smaller pens and a loading chute all of which are connected by gates. The first large corral is about ten feet in height and is constructed of heavy woven wire stock fencing on heavy poles for the front section as the animals will not readily enter an enclosure unless they can see out. The half of the fence on the side which connects with the second corral is boarded to the top. The elk enter the trap by a large gate in the front of the first corral. This gate is designed so that it will swing shut when released. When trapping operations are in progress this gate is fastened in the open position by a latch which is in turn attached to a long trigger line that may be from 100 yards to one-quarter of a mile in length and is held up by tripod type supports. This long trigger line enables the ranger to quietly approach within view of the trap and still remain a sufficient distance away to avoid disturbing the elk which may enter the outer corral to feed on the hay. The actual trapping is usually done at night so the rangers engaged in the work have to make regular trips to their vantage points from the time darkness falls until daybreak. The actual time that elk enter the trap is dependent, to a large extent, upon the brightness of the night and upon weather conditions. When the moon is full, elk feed almost entirely at night and retire to protected timber areas during the day. Binoculars, with a high degree of light-gathering power are used to enable the operator to view the trap in the darkness, but on many stormy or very dark nights he is forced to pull the trigger and trust to luck. After the gate swings shut the captured animals are immediately herded into the second corral which is boarded the full height for its entire circumference. This leaves the approach section free for further operation and the captured animals are held in this second corral where they are fed and watered until being transported to their new ranges.”

Former YNP Chief Naturalist John Good (2000:3) characterized the trapping procedure during the 1960s as follows: “Rangers would bait the trap in the evening—it was more like a corral—then sneak down at dawn the next day and try to get the trigger to close it. The elk, of course, they knew this game too; they’d go in there and they’d eat hay and then they’d come back out and they’d watch for the ranger. As soon as the ranger came along, they’d just trot off.”

That method, described by John Good, certainly wasn’t used at the permanent traps where I worked in winters 1961-62 and 1962-63. John apparently was not directly involved in the live trapping operation at permanent traps and was relying on Evans (1939) article, or, the method he described may have applied to some of the portable traps used in the early 264

1960s. Portable traps were erected at several locations (e.g., Slough Creek and Little Buffalo Creek). By 1961 and probably much earlier, the permanent traps had been modified since Evans’ time. Ten-feet tall, 2 by 12-inch boards had been added to the woven wire fence of the outer corral. Wire which the elk could see through motivated elk to attempt to leave the corral by charging into the fence, often resulting in serious injuries. The other major modification involved a trigger wire that was activated by a feeding elk. This gate closure modification made continuous ranger surveillance unnecessary. The trapping method, developed by rangers that preceded me, was as follows: elk were lured to the outer corral by laying a trail of alfalfa from several hundred feet outside the corral, through the open corral gate (a swinging gate about 15 feet wide), and into the corral, then underneath the trigger wire. That wire ran horizontally a few feet above the ground and extended between two posts (about 15 feet apart) in the corral. Usually at night, elk would follow (eat their way along) the alfalfa trail into the corral, then, while an elk was feeding it would hit the trigger wire. That caused one end of the wire, with a metal ring, to slip off of a nail (with the head removed), releasing a weight that forced the corral door to rapidly swing shut. Thus, the elk themselves completed the capture process. Although trapping was less stressful duty for rangers than was shooting, it was not easy on the elk. If the trapped elk were to be trucked out of the Park for release elsewhere, antlers had to be removed from all bulls to avoid injury to other elk in the truck. Before the sawing could be done, the bull had to be hazed from the large corral to one of the several small side pens. The antlers were then lassoed and the bull was pulled tight against one of the comer posts in the pen and secured there (1-117). Antlers were sawed off with a wire saw tossed over the antler and worked down to near the base of the antler. Some of the bulls were not easily moved into a side pen nor were they easily constrained when roped. Elk were moved around in the pens by hazing and sometimes with an electric cattle prod. The elk were moved into the transport trucks through loading chutes, much like a cattle-ranching operation. Some elk were released on-site after we ear-tagged them and took blood samples (for determination of disease organisms). Loading into trucks and long drives to a transplant site stressed the animals, often resulted in injuries, sometimes fatal. In winter 1961-62, ranger shooting teams killed 4,309 elk within the Park (by far the highest number ever shot in the direct reduction program carried out by rangers); 310 elk were live-trapped and shipped out of the Park. Hunters outside the Park boundary killed 125. Winterkill (primarily starvation) was estimated at 476 elk. Thus, the total number of elk removed from the Northern Range was 5,220. By 15 February, the elk reduction program was essentially complete for the winter. A count (by helicopter) in spring 1962 recorded 5,725 elk., so the reduction had come close to achieving the goal of a population of bout 5,000. The previous spring count, also by helicopter, had been 8,150 elk (Tyers 1981:170). Counts by helicopter no doubt underestimated populations. 265

1-117. Ranger Lloyd Hoener using a wire saw to remove the antlers on a bull elk, at the Crystal Elk Trap. Ranger Del Peterson is holding the remaining antler, February 1962. 266

I believe that direct reduction (shooting) was not an acceptable long-term solution to the Northern Range "problem." All solutions would have profound negative consequences, biologically and politically, because YNP is now an island surrounded by competing uses. The only even worse alternative would have been public hunting. That would have made the NPS direct reduction program look mild and unobtrusive by comparison. In the long-run, even if the elk alter the Northern Range through "overgrazing" (because their original migratory patterns have been altered by private lands outside the Park), I'd rather let that happen than have the northern range laced with the trails of track vehicles and have the winter silence broken incessantly by gunfire. The thought of hundreds or thousands of elk starving in hard winters is not particularly palatable of course, but it is Nature's way and it cannot be claimed that the kind of shooting that went on in the NPS reduction program was more humane. Periodic winter starvation provides many predators and scavengers with the sustenance they need. Direct reduction provided lots of gut piles, but the meat was hauled out of the Park. In the long term, Nature will establish some new dynamic condition on the northern range, without our "help." With the elk reduction program complete for the year, this meant more latitude for other activities. As always, our kids provided a continuous source of pleasure, excitement, and episodes of near heart failure. As Pat describes it, one day Kevin and Mary T. were playing upstairs in the partially finished third floor room that we used as play room in our front row house unit (we lived on the second floor, with the Stewart Orgill family on the first floor, below us). Pat was on the second floor and Mary T. came running down the stairs to say: “Kevin made fire come out of .” Pat found a black, burned streak along a side the electrical outlet. Kevin had pounded a nail into the outlet! Fortunately he used a hammer with a wood handle, so he wasn’t hurt. While I was working, Pat occasionally got the kids out for sledding, e.g., on Capitol Hill. One of our primary family activities on weekends was downhill skiing at the Undine Ski Hill, in the Park, about five miles east of Mammoth. There was a rope tow, driven by a gasoline motor in the ski hill shed, and a small warming hut with a wood stove. Mammoth residents took turns being responsible for getting the tow motor running, operating the tow, and starting the wood fire. It was a small ski hill (established as a ski area in 1949) and although it was open to anyone, it was used almost entirely by NPS employees and their families. As well as on weekend days, Undine occasionally was operated on a weekday. The rule was that there had to be at least five adults present and one man to run the tow motor. Undine was the first downhill skiing of any extent for either Pat or me. Pat picked it up rapidly; I was never able to master downhill skiing, but it was fun and a great family event. All the kids learned to ski at Undine. Undine Hill Ski Area was last used in the winter of 1991—92. In late 1993, workers began installing a used poma lift at Undine, to replace a rope tow that was considered unsafe. According to the High Country News (24 January 1994): “after receiving phone calls and letters from environmental groups and local residents, the Park Service halted construction to further review the issue . . .. People began complaining about the lift last December, when workers removed two dozen trees, including some 200-year-old Douglas-firs, and poured concrete pads 267

for lift towers. If the project continues, eight brown towers, ranging in height from 18 to 23 feet, will be erected on the slope. The ski run is used primarily by a ski club, composed mostly of people living in Mammoth Hot Springs and Gardiner, Mont The Yellowstone elementary school in Mammoth, which uses the area for downhill ski classes, is paying for the $60,000 project with discretionary funds. Michael Scott, Northern Rockies director for The Wilderness Society, says the ski area is inappropriate in the park and that children could downhill ski at nearby Big Sky and Bridger Bowl resorts.”

In 1994, Acting Superintendent Rick Smith (seasonal ranger at Lake in 1962) ordered that the Undine Ski Hill be abandoned. Perhaps that was an appropriate decision at this point in time; certainly the degree of “upgrade” was inappropriate. But Undine as it was, served as a wonderful place for family skiing when we were there. We would have sorely missed it. It would have been too costly and difficult to drive 90 miles to the Bozeman area to ski. The NPS is strange. It can make a strong stand against a tiny downhill ski area for employees (based on the conflict with the stated "purpose" of a national park), yet substantially ignore the hundreds of snowmobiles that daily destroy clean air and natural quiet throughout YNP in winter. At any rate, we were happy to have a little ski area so close to home for the kids. January continued cold and snowy. Mammoth recorded minus 27° F on the 22nd and 20 inches snow depth on the 25th (this was very deep for Mammoth). In February 1962, we learned that Byrne Packard, the Lake Sub-District Ranger, would be transferring to Lake Mead National Recreation Area. We had been told that we "might" be assigned to Lake again the following summer; if so, I would have a new supervisor. We soon were told that we should plan to move to Lake near the end of March, but that summer assignments would not be announced until the May ranger conference. From 10-13 February the Mammoth and Gardiner areas experienced an unusual winter rain, with 1.1 inches recorded at Mammoth. This caused widespread surface flooding in the Gardiner area. Old Faithful Sub-District Ranger Lee Robinson planned to take a trip to Old Faithful from Mammoth on 25 February-2 March in a Weasel and he invited me to go. O f course I jumped at the chance and we had a good trip. But, it also made me wish that we still lived there, away from the elk slaughter. Darrell Coe and Robert Binnewies were the rangers at Old Faithful that winter. Darrell, Lee, and I took the Weasel to the Fairy Falls Trail via the old Fountain Freight Road, then skied to the Falls and to Imperial Geyser (1-118). The weather turned clear and very cold (minus 44° F) on 27 February, providing a great opportunity for photographing an eruption of Old Faithful Geyser (1-119). At such low temperatures, a geyser plume is especially beautiful, with distinct edges to the water vapor that surrounds the water plume. This is a result of water vapor droplets always being in ice form at minus 40° F and colder. At temperatures warmer than 40 below zero, water can exist as supercooled liquid droplets. Snow depth at Old Faithful on 27 February was 41 inches. On 18 March, I returned to Old Faithful to make an overnight (19-20 March) ski patrol to Shoshone Geyser Basin with Darrell Coe and Binnewies. 268

1-118. Ranger Darrell Coe on a ski patrol, near Imperial Geyser, 26 February 1962. 269

1-119. Old Faithful Geyser eruption at minus 44° F, 27 February 1962. During most winter eruptions, the surrounding vapor usually was composed of supercooled liquid water droplets because of the absence of ice nuclei. At temperatures below minus 40° (C and F are the same at minus 40), the droplets freeze. With the current large number of snowmachines spewing out exhaust (numerous ice nuclei), supercooled water droplets may be less common in the basins. 270

CHAPTER 20. Return to Yellowstone Lake and a Glorious Spring (1962)

On 26 March 1962, we moved back to Lake from Mammoth, without any assurance that we would remain for the summer. In the patrol car with our first load of belongings, we literally followed the rotary snowplow to the ranger station quarters, where we had spent the previous fall. The plow was cutting through five feet of compact, undrifted snow at the station (1-120). It was a beautiful spring day, with a maximum temperature of 44°. The whole family was very excited to be moving back to Lake so early in the spring, especially to the ranger station, with its spectacular views. The Lake still was solidly frozen and the road would not be open to public travel for a month or more. We were privileged and we knew it and appreciated it. We moved a minimum amount of gear from Mammoth in just a few days and were ready to enjoy the arrival of spring and the thawing of Yellowstone Lake. Our only "neighbors” at Lake early in the spring again were Gerry and Thelma Bateson, who lived there year-round as the Yellowstone Park Company winterkeepers. My primary job was to watch over the construction activities that were to resume 26 March at Bridge Bay. However, the first task was to remove a 61-inches deep snowpack off the ranger station/quarters roof and I did this on 26 March. As I had done at Old Faithful, in that annual snow removal project, I used a one-man crosscut saw to cut the snow into blocks that could be slid off the roof, maneuvering them by working a shovel underneath the blocks (1- 121). When the job was complete, a person could easily walk onto the roof from the surrounding snow pile. The kids used to do this, and one day before we knew it, Kevin (3 ‘/2 yrs old) had stepped from the roof onto the metal antenna support tower used for the park radio system. On top of this structure, the antenna was about 40 feet above the ground (note antenna in 1-121). The tower was triangular in cross-section with each side about a foot wide and about a foot vertically between horizontal connecting bars—thus, it could be climbed like a ladder. That’s exactly what Kevin was doing! When I first noticed him, he was 30 feet up. I called Pat out of the quarters to help coax him down. Pat and I both were frightened; Kevin thought it was great fun. We talked him down as calmly and slowly as we could. Within the next week, as time permitted, I removed the snow from the roofs of the Lake Fire Cache and Sign Shed, and the Fishing Bridge Ranger Station and Fire Truck Garage. We had some great family hikes on the firm spring snow; on the last day of March we walked to Fishing Bridge, which had not yet been plowed (1-122). We took the kids on drives to Hayden Valley on many evenings. We also took the kids wading at Sedge Bay or Mary Bay along Yellowstone Lake. Along some of the shoreline in the Bays, water 4 or 5 feet from shore remained ice-free year-round due to warm springs on the Lake bottom (1-123). The water was very cold, with 4 feet of ice on the Lake beyond the narrow band of open water and 4 feet of snow on the ground a few feet from shore. The kids thought it was a great adventure, and of course we had it all to ourselves since the road was not yet open to the public. 271

Pat continued to enjoy her spring time spent in the ranger station quarters with the kids and the spectacular view of the Lake. She wrote: "It is so beautiful here, and quiet, and so many animals, to . . . check on. Even Riley has to admit it's almost as good as geysers." We saw the first bears of the spring on 12 April, when we observed two grizzlies feeding on a dead bison near Mud Volcano. During that week we saw five different grizzlies. It was a marvelous opportunity to be able to watch the ice change and finally disappear from Yellowstone Lake. By 15 April, warm days had produced heavy, wet slush and areas of standing water on the Lake surface; from a distance the entire ice sheet took on a turquoise blue color. Patterns in the Lake ice continued to change as the thaw progressed (I-124a). Pat did a beautiful sketch of The Snag and the Lake in April (I-124b). 272

1-120.Top: Patrol car in Hayden Valley, on our way from Mammoth to summer assignment at Lake.Bottom : NPS snowplow and maintenance pickup approaching Lake Ranger Station/Residence, with the McClelland family following with great excitement, ready to move in, 26 March 1962. 273

1-121. Ranger McClelland removing the winter’s snow accumulation from the roof of the Lake Ranger Station/Quarters, 26 March 1962 (photo by William Keller, Courtesy NPS, YNP, YELL #31690). 274

1-122. McClelland family on Fishing Bridge, 31 March 1962. 275

1-123. Mary Teresa and Kevin wading in Yellowstone Lake, April 1962. 276 ______

I-124a. Yellowstone Lake, late April 1962. The is across the Lake. 277

I-124b. Pat's pastel of “The Snag" and Yellowstone Lake, April 1962. 278

The annual spring ranger conference was held in Mammoth 22-29 April 1962 (1-125). From the seven ranger conferences I ultimately attended in YNP, one event stands out most strongly in my memory. On 24 April of the 1962 conference, Jack Ellis Haynes (known as "Mr. Yellowstone") gave a brief presentation to the ranger group. At the time of his talk to the rangers, Jack Haynes was frail and no longer able to do the extensive traveling he had done for much of his life. The conference turned out to be Jack Haynes’ final public appearance. At the ranger conference, when he emphasized to us our privilege of working in Yellowstone (as quoted in the eulogy), Jack Haynes also said something that has been etched in my mind from that day on. He said: “Fellows, I have traveled widely and have had the opportunity to photograph all of the great national parks and monuments throughout the West—Yosemite, Sequoia, Grand Canyon, and the others. Each has its own grand appeal and charm, but fellows, there is NO place like Yellowstone."

The depth of feeling with which he spoke sent an emotional wave over the group. There was a lump in my throat and I'm sure that others must have experienced the same flush. Jack Haynes respected the beauties of all the parks, but he had a special Love for Yellowstone. Jack Haynes, along with his wife Isabel, owned and operated the photo and photographic supplies concession in the Park. There was a Haynes Studio shop at most major locations in the Park. His father, Frank Jay Haynes, had preceded him, starting a stagecoach and photo business in the Park in 1881 and built his first picture shop at Mammoth in 1884. Jack came to Yellowstone at the age of four. It was his sense of place in the World. Yellowstone affected Pat and me in the same way and hearing the respected old timer Jack Haynes express it so movingly provided reinforcement and inspiration that stayed with me to this day. There is an “aura” that is associated with Yellowstone, something beyond the physical features, the wildlife, the scenery. Part of the aura I believe has to do with the "goodness" and altruism embodied in the creation of our first national park, the idea of spuming private gain to set aside a wonderland for all the people. This idea gamers less respect today, in the midst of a mad frenzy of privatization, greed, and power-mongering. The feeling for Yellowstone as THE special place was not shared by all NPS employees, but it was shared by many. It is apparent that a person does not develop a sense of place or a special Love for an area overnight, or when career motivation is based on simply using each park as a stepping stone for the next career advancement. A special Love for a particular park has been generally belittled and denigrated by many in the NPS hierarchy for many years. Loyalty to the NPS hierarchy generally has been the paradigm, rather than loyalty to the “National Park Idea.” Jack Ellis Haynes died in Livingston, Montana, on 2 May 1962, less than three weeks after his presentation at the ranger conference; he was 77. A eulogy for him appeared in the Yellowstone Weekly News, 17 May 1962 (D-21). At the end of the conference we learned that we would remain at Lake for the summer; it was a great relief not to have to worry about moving to another station. However, we would have to move out of the ranger station quarters and into last year's apartment soon. Then, to our great surprise, District Ranger Harry Reynolds, who was scheduled to have the only Mission 66 house (3-bedroom, furnished) at Lake, made a magnanimous proposition. He 279 offered to let us live in the 3-bedroom house (House 708, $21.50 per two weeks) for the summer since we had a big family and he was going to be alone at Lake most of the summer, with his family remaining at their large house in Mammoth. We were appreciative and could look forward to some privacy; we had none in the apartment in 1961. We would also be able to keep our Mammoth apartment, where we still had nearly all of our furniture. When it was time to move from the ranger station quarters (seasonal rangers would be living there), the large house was not yet ready for us; there was a strong propane odor in the house. We temporarily moved from the ranger station to the same small apartment we had occupied the previous summer. A week or so later (the first week in May) we made the move to the three-bedroom house (Building 708). We very much appreciated the privacy and all the space; the only major negative factor was the propane odor. The heating system was propane and the plumbers were not able to locate all the leaks even by the end of summer. We had to keep windows wide open regardless of the outside temperature, and it stayed cold well into spring; e.g., it snowed on several days during the second week in June. Ironically, Harry Reynolds was reassigned to Mammoth as law enforcement specialist, and was replaced by Howard Chapman. Howard had a family and no doubt would have liked the 3-bedroom house, but he honored Harry's commitment to us. The new Sub-District Ranger for whom I would work was Dale Nuss (wife “Bunny,” and children Stewart and Cara Lee). Dale was often referred to as “Nasty Nuss.” He was gruff and brusque most of the time, but he was a very skilled and capable ranger in many ways. The new District Manager was Glenn Bean, replacing Tom Hyde. We were treated to interesting wildlife shows in the field and while at home (1-126). The grizzly cub (Ignatz, who had hibernated in a culvert at Steamboat Point) had been seen along the East Entrance Road, near the Lake Butte turnoff on 22 April. A decision had been made by the higher ups to trap Ignatz as soon as possible and send him to a zoo. “On 8 May, a young grizzly yearling, better known as Ignatz, was trapped near 10-mile post on the East Entrance Road, and was transported to Mammoth the following day [in the culvert trap] where he was to be held until shipment could be made to the Bismark, North Dakota Zoo. It was later deemed necessary to release this bear in the vicinity of the Crystal Springs Elk Trap, near Eamar” (from the Lake Monthly Report, May 1962). Craighead (1979:42) claimed: “Early in the spring of 1961, Ignatz was shot by park rangers as a potential threat to human beings.” If that happened, it did not occur in the Lake area. On 7 May, huge pieces of ice began to float out of the Lake and down the River, with large ice jams accumulating under Fishing Bridge. Park maintenance crews dynamited the ice at this location a number of times. When the Lake ice is beginning to break up, strong wind can create extensive fractures and gaps in the ice sheet. The wind also moved large packs of ice onto the shore (1-127) or into lakeshore facilities. On 11 May, a strong southwest wind piled ice against and on the government boat dock (1-128). The Lake became ice-free on 21 May. At that time the 20-year average date of final departure of ice from the Lake was 22 May. 280 M M om Naturalist Division Yellowstone Park, Wyoaic

V

JACK ELLIS HAYNES

Sept. 27, 1884 - May 12, 1962

jack E. Haynes died suddenly in Livingston, Montana on May 12. Despite poor health in recent months, Jack's passing is an unexpected and deeply saddening loss co the park community.

On April 16, Jack returned to Mammoth to prepare for the opening of the 81st season of Haynes Inc. operations in Yellowstone National Park. A business whose history dates from the beginning years of the Park, Haynes Inc. holds the oldest concession franchise in the National park System. Frank Jay Haynes, Jack's father and a noted pioneer photographer of the West, first came to the Yellowstone in 1881. Thus began an intimate love of and association with the Park that lasted ough is lifetime, and the establishment of an institution whose history is the tory o the Park. In his son, Jack, the continuity of the Haynes tradition and .he success of the Haynes business were assured.

cf me to tlxe Park in 1888 a t the age of four y e a rs. His death removes a auk with the past - a personal connection with the origins of Yellowstone National ar and the National park Service, jack knew Nathaniel Langford and preserved in is memory t e re c o lle c tio n of m eetings w ith th is man who, as a member of th e scovery Expedition, is credited with sharing with Cornelius Hedges the conception jj. ? nations park idea, jack Haynes lived and worked through the years of Army Serv*18 Iatr / n Yellowstone. He witnessed the creation of the new National Park Albr^ht- ? io io Snd g reeted the f i r s t N ational park S ervice Superintendent Horace M. National park " P383*11^ marks the end of an era in Yellowstone

f «iaoneTMe»-?eWSi 0fJacks will cause sorrow to a host of lifelong friends ^ . a ona Park Service concessioners and Service people from coast-to-coast. fitt-f Pr*de to U8> therefore, that Jack's last public appearance was, ^?ri] Il9Ay , _ ra the annual Spring Conference ranger force in Yellowstone on sano ’ , n a f6* remarks delivered with his characteristic gentleness and fine cpporf.i conc u e in saying, "I hope you men appreciate your privilege in the sin U y°U 3Ve working in Yellowstone National Park." These were words 'wag 8P°k®n *-n earnest by one to whom a lifetim e of such an opportunity ^enef-ir % privileSe* We are better people for having known Jack and had the M*ent of t his counsel.

Sun11^ ^ servf^es were held in Bozeman, Montana on May 15 and burial was in sunset Memorial Gardens of Bozeman.

D-21. Eulogy for Jack Ellis Haynes, Yellowstone Weekly News (17 May 1962). 281

1-125. Annual Spring Ranger Conference in Yellowstone, 1962 (photo on 27 April 1962 by Jack Ellis Haynes). (Courtesy NPS, YNP) L-R Back row:Bob Wood, Harry Reynolds, Bob Morey, Darrell Coe, Lawrence Hadley, and John Good. Third row: Jack Hughes, Nick Reeves (plain clothes - Forestry Technician), Carl Lamb, Riley McClelland, Tom Milligan, Dale Nuss, William S. (Scotty) Chapman, Bob Binnewies, Bob Howe, Oscar Dick, and Bill Burgen. Second row:Unknown in plain clothes, Art Hayes, Chuck Janda, Ken Linfors, Mike Myers, Les Gunzel, Joe Fraser, Lenn Berg, Howard Chapman, and Dick Holder. Front row:Jack Williams, Joe Way, Lee Robinson, Del Peterson, Dick Nelson, Glen Bean, Lemuel A. (Lon) Garrison (Superintendent), Luis Gastellum (Assistant Superintendent), Stewart Orgill, Clyde A. (Al) Maxey, and Ray Sellers. 282 1-126.Top: On the edge of the Yellowstone River, in Hayden Valley. Did the coyote do the killing, or just discover a ready meal? Bottom: Cow and calf moose near our house (#708) at Lake, at dusk. May 1962. 284

Yellowstone Lake ice pushed by wind 1-127. Top: onto the shore at Mary Bay, 10 May 1962, with Jane and Mary T. 1-128. Bottom : into the NPS boat dock at Lake, 11 May 1962. 285

Seasonal ranger Rick Smith was on Lake road patrol in 1962. In the summer, Pat and I used to take the children over to the government trailer in which Rick and his wife lived. Rick would play the guitar and sing folk songs to the kids. Their favorite was "Puff the magic dragon.” Rick ultimately became Regional Director of the Southwest Region and in his final assignment before retirement, Acting Superintendent of YNP (circa 1994). My primary responsibility for summer 1962 was coordination of the Yellowstone Lake boat patrol. It was not a very logical assignment since the only boat operation experience I had was the previous summer. Fortunately, Lynn Thompson was back again as a seasonal ranger and he had the primary responsibility for day-to-day boat patrol operations. One afternoon, when the two small patrol boats were gone and all regular boat patrolmen (and Sub-District Ranger Nuss) were out of the area, I received a report that people were in the water, near the north shore and needed to be rescued. The only boat at the dock was the Meldrum, a large (32 ft) NPS "pleasure" boat used almost exclusively to take VIPs on the Lake. I had never been allowed to operate it. If there were indeed people drowning, I felt that I had no choice, so I grabbed a seasonal ranger who was in the office and I piloted the Meldrum on a rescue mission. Toward the north shore we observed waves breaking over small rock outcrops, giving the appearance of people thrashing about in the water. But we saw no capsized boat and no people in the water, so we headed back to the NPS dock. We were in radio contact with the ranger station and Nuss had returned by the time we approached the dock. Nuss didn't trust me to do the docking so he rowed out 50 feet in a small boat, got aboard, and docked it himself. Dale Nuss brought with him to the Lake Sub-District an old crony, Charles Anderson, as the new senior seasonal ranger at Lake. Anderson was supposed to work for me as well as Dale of course, but he was a devious, backstabbing individual. He did his best to make me look bad in Nuss's eyes, apparently thinking that he would gain favor in the process. On one occasion, I was at Lake Butte Overlook, watching an isolated thunderstorm in the distance, southwest of Yellowstone Lake. There were frequent lightning strikes, with little rain apparent. I watched one bolt split into three separate strikes, each of which instantly ignited the trees that were struck. Three distinct columns of smoke were clearly evident from the site. I radioed the Lake Ranger Station and Anderson responded. I gave him the general location of the smokes and told him to phone the information into the Mammoth Fire Cache (as we were required to do). When I returned to the station, I found that Anderson had not phoned the information to the fire cache. He said: “it was pointless to phone because one of the park lookouts would see the smoke sooner or later and besides he didn't have time." This was typical of his responses to my requests; he did as he pleased and usually acted in a way to try to undercut my decisions so as to elevate his own image in the eyes of Nuss. But he was a longtime favorite of Dale’s, and Dale would never intervene to straighten him out. That made the summer of 1962 less than pleasant. Structural and forest fires were always on the mind of a ranger. There was a fire scare at the Lake Hotel one evening when smoke was being detected on the first floor. We rolled the fire truck and did a thorough search, finally finding where the fire in the large fireplace in the hotel lobby had burned through to surrounding wood supports. It was caught just in the nick of time or we could have had a tragedy. Another potential disaster occurred around midnight one night when a gasoline 286 tanker, backing up to unload at the Lake Service Station, jack-knifed and turned the trailer tank on its side. Gasoline ran down the edge of the highway for several hundred feet, then into a storm drain (which emptied into Yellowstone Lake). I was on the scene setting up barricades to keep cars away from the gasoline, when the Sub-District Ranger arrived in the fire truck. He drove right through the running stream of gasoline. I thought that the exhaust from the fire truck would surely set off an explosion and fire, but fate protected us and nothing happened. It was an error in judgement that could have killed people. We did not detect gasoline on the Lake the next morning, so most of it may have evaporated. Field rangers were responsible for inspections of the eating facilities and kitchens operated by the Yellowstone Park Company. This usually was a rather disheartening task, eliminating any desire one might have to “eat out” at the Park lodges, hotels, or cafeterias. On 15 June 1962, I was assigned to inspect the Lake Lodge Dining facility. These were unannounced inspections. I walked into the kitchen and the first thing I saw was a cook bending over a large kettle of soup. He was smoking a cigarette and ashes were dropping into the kettle. The entire kitchen was a filthy mess. I reported to the Sub-District Ranger and we then phoned the NPS Concession Manager in Mammoth, with the recommendation that the facility be closed. We got approval to close it, which we did. The NPS Concession Manager came out from Mammoth and instructed the Concessioner to thoroughly clean the kitchen and enforce employee health standards. The Concession Manager advised us the next morning that he had been authorized to by the NPS in Mammoth to reopen the facility for breakfast — a real penalty, closed from after dinner until before breakfast! The same scenario was repeated at the Fishing Bridge Cafeteria six days later. At interior stations such as Old Faithful and Lake, there was never enough time in summer to do much backcountry patrolling or, especially at Lake, actual natural resource management. I did have the opportunity to participate in a Canada Goose banding project at Turbid Lake, on 30 June. Canada geese molt in early summer and are flightless for a short period. During this flightless period, when hundreds of geese traditionally congregated on Turbid Lake, state biologists annually banded geese. They “herded” the flightless birds into net pens on shore by forcing them to the pen sites with motorboats (1-129). It was a very chaotic procedure and caused a great deal of panic and stress in the geese. 287

1-129. Flightless non-breeding Canada geese at Turbid Lake, 30 June 1962. The two men are Wyoming State Fish and Game employees who will be banding the geese. 288

During my summer assignments at Lake, I tried to do some good hikes on the few days off I actually got. In July 1962, Ranger-Naturalists Bill Baker, Bill Lewis, Alan Eliason and I hiked to Jones Pass, in the Absaroka Range (1-130). With the old Turbid Lake Road open (now closed), we started the hike about two miles east of Turbid Lake, where the Jones Pass Trail leaves the Road. Elevation gain to the Pass (at 9,600 feet) is 1,600 feet in about three miles. From the Pass we climbed another 600 feet to the summit of , the peak north of the Pass. We found extensive patches of pinkish-red snow (“watermelon snow”) in many of the snow drifts remaining near the Pass. Such snow has a fresh watermelon scent and even tastes like watermelon (Zwinger and Willard 1972). The snow algae usually responsible for pinkish-red snowChlamydomonas is sp. (Garric 1965). This unicellular organism contains a bright red carotenoid pigment in addition to chlorophyll. Walking in the red snow increases the density of the red cells and heightens the color. Watermelon snow does not appear until spring when unfrozen water is available within the snow bank. This beautiful pink-red snow is common in YNP’s high country, in the dense snow drifts that survive to mid- and late summer. In addition to supervising the boat patrol and fire duties at Lake, there were many other law enforcement and bear management duties. I remember a particularly unpleasant law enforcement incident in August, at the Lake Hotel. I received a phone call (about midnight) at home informing me that there was a drunk causing a disturbance at the hotel bar and that there was an injured puppy in a car outside the hotel. I put on my uniform, picked up a seasonal ranger at the station, and went to investigate. We found the poor puppy, perhaps 2 months-old, crying in pain in the car. He had one obviously broken hind leg, some cuts about the face, and apparent internal injuries. We radioed for backup to take the puppy and to fashion a splint for the leg. We then went to the bar and arrested a particularly obnoxious and belligerent drunk, a middle-aged man. We handcuffed him and took him out to the patrol car, which was still parked next to the car with the puppy. It turned out that the puppy belonged to the drunk. We finally ascertained, after talking to witnesses and questioning the drunk, that he had returned to his car from the bar on one occasion and found that the puppy had urinated on the seat. He became furious with the puppy, grabbed it by the hind legs, and beat it against the dashboard, injuring it severely. The man then returned to the bar and left the puppy to wail and suffer. One of the seasonal rangers kept the puppy overnight and then volunteered to take it to a veterinarian in Cody, Wyoming, the next morning. Meanwhile, a seasonal ranger and I drove the drunk to the Mammoth jail. The jerk was surly and obnoxious during the 50 miles to Mammoth. He threatened to return and "get us" as soon as he got out of jail. He also announced that he didn't want the "damn" puppy and we could kill it for all he cared. The next day I had to drive back to Mammoth for the drunk's appearance before the Commissioner Brown, on the charge of disorderly conduct. The offender was fined $20 (!!), and removed from the Park. To arresting rangers, sentences nearly always seemed too lenient. The ranger who had taken the puppy to Cody returned with a recovering, happy dog with a full length cast on his broken leg and other wounds treated and beginning to heal. Most of the Lake ranger staff chipped in to cover the vet bill (and a purchase price of $50 from his torturer). The puppy continued to live with the seasonal ranger through another return to the vet for cast removal. By the time the seasonal's summer 289

employment ended, he couldn't part with the puppy and so, to our relief, the puppy and seasonal ranger headed to their winter home together— a very happy ending to a terribly sad story. I got a break from the summer stress at Lake in 1962 when I was dispatched (on 30 minutes notice) to the Upper Kintla Lake Fire, in GNP. On 22 July, several YNP rangers (Ray Sellers, Chuck Janda, Darrell Coe, and I) drove to West Yellowstone, where we boarded the smokejumper plane; we were flown to Kalispell, Montana, where we were picked up by Dan Nelson (GNP's Fire Control Officer, and an old friend). Dan drove us to West Glacier and we eventually were hauled up the North Fork Road and to the foot of Kintla Lake. We were boated across Kintla and then made the two-mile hike to the foot of Upper Kintla, where the fire camp was located. The fire, about 200 acres, was high on the slope on the north side of Upper Kintla Lake, in very steep and rocky terrain (1-131). 1 remained on the fire for five days as a sector boss. Hiking the fireline numerous times each day was great conditioning. It was another one of the many fires that should have been allowed to burn. I had some crews on my sector that were composed of slackers, making for a less pleasant assignment for me. This was unusual; on most fire assignments crews were very hard workers. This fire was my first exposure to paper sleeping bags (disposable). 1 found mine to be cold and soggy after one night’s use. They might be all right in warm climates, but they weren't effective at cold mountain sites. The views of the Kintla Lakes and GNP's peaks from high up in the bum were spectacular; it probably wouldn't be a bad place to work I thought to myself at the time. I returned to Yellowstone Lake on 28 July, after the Upper Kintla Fire was declared under control. On almost every day there was a bear problem, usually in one of the campgrounds. Pelican Creek Campground was in prime grizzly habitat and there was a grizzly or two reported there almost every night. One grizzly became quite habituated and would not run even if a truck were driven within 20 or 30 feet of him. I accompanied Nuss one day when the bear was reported. We drove the ranger pickup to within 30 feet of the campsite the bear was in; Nuss dispatched the bear with one shot (from a 30-06) to the head. Bears that were roadside beggars had to be moved if they became too brazen. We were still using sucostrin to immobilize roadside bears with a syringe on a jab stick, or with a C 02 rifle that shot syringes. This drug is a muscle relaxant and the proper dose is dependant on the weight of the bear. An overdose can lead to respiratory arrest and death (as it did with the grizzly previously described, in the Old Faithful area). The drug (used in proper dose) left a bear conscious, but unable to move, not even to blink its eyelids. It must be an awful experience for an animal to be fully aware of the manipulation it is undergoing yet be completely unable to move. It was a terrible drug to be using. Its use in bear management generally was replaced years ago. An immobilized bear typically was loaded into a culvert trap and hauled to another location in the Park. As the story went, the bear usually beat the ranger back to the area from which it came (1-132). 290

-C

1-130. Ranger-NaturalistsL-R: Alan Eliason, Bill Lewis, and Bill Baker, near Jones Pass, July 1962. Jones Creek Drainage is behind the hikers; Silvertip Peak is on the right; an unnamed peak is on the left. 291

1-131. Upper Kintla Lake Fire, north of the Lake, on the south Hank of the Boundary Mountains, GNP, 24 July 1962. 292

1-132. Ranger McClelland releasing a black bear at Trout Creek, Hayden Valley, summer 1962 (Courtesy NPS, YNP). 293

During the summer, Mary T. had a close call that could have produced a serious injury. Our house was next to the maintenance vehicle parking area. There was a steep dirt bank between the house and the lot. At quitting time (5:00 P.M. sharp for maintenance workers), Mary T. and a friend were sitting half way down the bank, waiting for their friend, the garbage man to park his truck. They were not paying due attention to the moving vehicle. The large garbage truck backed flush into the bank and the truck’s rear platform pinned Mary T.'s legs against the bank. I was at the ranger station and someone phoned that T.'s legs had been injured in an accident. I rushed home to find T. crying and in pain. We rushed her to the Mammoth Hospital and to our amazement and relief the x-rays showed no broken bones. The dirt bank had been soft enough that Mary's legs were pushed into the earth rather than fractured. She had big bruises above her ankles, but no lasting effects. A backup beeper, now required on heavy equipment, probably would have prevented the accident. Our other family trauma that summer was Pat's miscarriage, which occurred in mid-June. I drove her to the Mammoth Hospital, then returned to Lake to care for the children, who were being tended by a friend. After I departed Mammoth, Dr. Baskett decided that Pat needed a pint of blood, which was not on hand at the time. A nurse phoned the Chief Ranger’s Office to ask for a volunteer blood donor with type O blood. Ranger Gordon Boyd was on duty and had the right blood type. He volunteered and went immediately to the hospital, just a couple of blocks away. Thereafter, Pat recovered rapidly and I was able to bring her back to Lake the following day. On 20 August, I spent the day with Fishing Bridge Senior Seasonal Naturalist Lowell Biddulph. Lowell Biddulph was one of the “old guard” naturalist crew. He was a gentle, soft-spoken man, an outstanding naturalist. It was a privilege to spend the day with him. We took Lowell’s small outboard motorboat from a point where the East Entrance Road departs from near the shore of Yellowstone Lake and headed south along the east shore. Our destination was the Southeast Arm and Brimstone Basin, a boat trip of about 10 miles. We beached near the mouth of Alluvium Creek and hiked to Brimstone Basin, about one mile east of the lakeshore. Brimstone Basin is an ancient hydrothermal area containing solfataric alteration. Although there is an extensive area of bare ground in the Basin, we could find no evidence of “warm” ground. Recent research has revealed that drainage waters flowing from Brimstone Basin have pH values as low as 1.23 (neutrality pH is 7.0) and contain sulfur-oxidizing bacteria(Thiobacillus thiooxidans)(Knickerbocker et al. 2000). We hiked throughout the Basin, and along Alluvium Creek, taking photographs (1-133). Nordstrom (2006) documented “thousands” of ephydrid fly larvae living in Alluvium Creek, which had a pH of 2.05. It is truly amazing to behold the way in which life has adapted to supposedly hostile ecosystems in Yellowstone. Colonel John Glenn was a visitor in the Lake area on 22 August. Also in August, biologist and author George Schaller was doing research on white pelicans on the Molly Islands of Yellowstone Lake. He had a camp on the southeast arm of the Lake. Our boat patrol assisted him in travel to and from the camp. On 22 August, he was finished with his summer research and the boat patrol transported him and his gear to the Lake dock. There was considerable time spent simply issuing private boat permits by rangers at the Lake Ranger Station. We issued more than 3,000 permits in each 1961 and 1962. The NPS had few good government horses that were well mannered and actually fun 294 to ride. At Lake I had an exceptionally good horse, Dave, the same horse that I had briefly lost at Old Faithful in 1960. I made several backcountry trips on him and he was a joy to ride. One of the best trips was a patrol to Fern Lake with seasonal ranger Fred Felsch, 16-18 July. We also put the kids on Dave for brief rides in the corral on some of my days off. Tragically, Dave broke a leg in a horse trailer with a broken side board on 3 September (one of my days off). I had instructed the fire guard not to use the trailer until it was repaired, but Sub-District Ranger Nuss overruled me and later he sheepishly told me that Dave had to be destroyed. Pat and I were sad and disgusted. There was no visit from my parents in 1962, the first year they missed since my first summer in YNP (1955). They were busy moving to a new house in Littleton, Colorado, from my boyhood residence in Denver. One of the nicest stray animals that we took care of in YNP was a pregnant Siamese cat, "Karen. "She was found in early September, wandering near Fishing Bridge; a visitor brought her to the ranger station. I took her home and of course Pat and the kids loved her (I hate to admit it, generally not being a cat fancier, but I did too). Karen was an amazingly quiet Siamese and very affectionate. Karen delivered 5 kittens (I- 134), the first one on the pillow on T.’s bed and the rest in a box next to T.’s bed. Karen proceeded to carry the kittens all over the house, including to Pat's and my bed. Karen had been sleeping with Pat and me, under the covers, near our toes. That was the first place she headed with a kitten in her mouth. We finally convinced her that she really needed to keep them in her box. Through Margaret Altmann, our ethologist friend from the area, we were eventually able to place Karen and 3 of her kittens on a ranch near Moran, Wyoming. One of the other kittens went to a family in Jardine and the other went to Billings. In September, after park visitor numbers dropped, Pat and the kids accompanied me (with the approval of Sub-District Ranger Nuss) in the NPS barge on a trip down Yellowstone Lake to the Southeast Arm to deliver supplies destined for Thorofare. En route back to the Lake dock the barge motor died and would not restart—we were still far south on the Lake. As we drifted toward the east shore and I deployed the anchor (it was windy). I was able to contact the Lake Ranger Station by radio and after several hours an NPS boat with a mechanic aboard arrived. He replaced a non-functioning engine part and we resumed the trip. It was quite an adventure for the kids. Pat tended to get upset as much as I did about the management of the Park. In one of her summer 1962 letters, she wrote to her mother: "What a political bureaucracy the NPS is! It is difficult to understand how the men who sit behind desks and make decisions, can get so far from the field and make so many errors, i.e., the .. . parking lot at Tower, where they are moving a hill in order to put it [the parking lot] across from the ghastly [Mission 66] service station which some knothead approved." 295

1-133. Brimstone Basin, 20 August 1962. Top: Distant view of the Southeast Arm of Yellowstone Lake, one mile from the Basin.Bottom : Alluvium Creek, in Brimstone Basin. 296

1-134. L-R:Kerry, Mary T., Jane, and Kevin, with Siamese kittens, at Lake, September 1962. 297

Finally, in September we learned that we were to move to Lamar for the winter. John Cook was then at Lamar and he would move to Mammoth and into the apartment that we currently used. Lamar wasn't furnished so we would have to move from both Lake and Mammoth. The Cooks allowed us to store some things in the partially finished third floor of the Mammoth apartment. The move to Lamar essentially ended my involvement with bear management. There were no incidents in the Lamar District after we moved there in October. However, we had plenty of bear action in the previous 6 years (Table 5).

No. of No. of No. of No. of Property Black Grizzly Personal Damage Bears Bears Park Year Injuries Incidents Killed a Killed3 Travel

1962 42 112 52 4 1,923,063

1961 58 247 59 1 1,525,368

1960 69 358 89 4 1,440,463

1959 41 269 30 6 1,406,831

1958 39 117 28 2 1,425,680

1957 91 125 21 1 1,595,875

Table 5. Park-wide bear management incidents within YNP, 1957-62. (Source: unpublished summary, 1931-62, prepared by Chief Biologist Bob Howe). a = management actions only.