A WARM, SUNNY DAY AT YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK,
where a 500-pound male grizzly bear known as No. 36 is slumped in a
drug-induced haze. Even flattened by tranquilizers, the big bear
dwarfs the four researchers in Western-style clothing who are
racing the clock to pull every piece of data they can from him --
weighing him, taking blood samples, checking his teeth. He grows
larger still when he awakens suddenly with a shattering roar.
Groaning, groggy and gladiatorial, the bear rises and charges
blindly at the members of the group, who scramble into their red
Ford station wagon. In a dizzy rage, the bear barrels like a
bristling, fanged locomotive toward the packed car, running
straight into the passenger door and then heaving himself onto the
hood, his head seeming to fill the entire windshield. As the animal
bellows again, the car is jammed almost cartoonishly into reverse,
and the big, disoriented bear slides off.
The men wrote books such as Hawks in the Hand from 1939 or Track of
the Grizzly from 1979; journal entries from their studies; and
piles of books on grizzlies that cite their work. But for the
brothers, it all started with a baby barred owl. The Craighead boys
were only about 10 or 12, by John's count, and inseparable -- with
people hailing them usually not by name, but by "Hey, Twin!" The
twinned identity issue went deep with the boys themselves. So deep,
in fact, that sister Jean Craighead George (author of My Side of
the Mountain among many other award-winning children's books),
recalls that Frank and John always used the personal pronoun "I"
instead of "we" when referring to the two of themselves. They grew
up in Chevy Chase, and had spent one weekend day as they often did
-- on a long hike along the Potomac with their entomologist father,
who was a walking field guide to plants, bugs and animals.
While you may not know the history or the significant contribution
these twins played in the role of researching and protecting the
Grizzly bears, you should certainly understand their importance in
documenting and influencing the existence of these wonderful
mammals of the wild.
Drive out toward Mott Park at Bardwell Lake and go just past the
entrance to find this lonely Sanderson Cemetery. As you walk toward
GZ, you will pass by a small maker dedicated to two baby twins
named John and Frank who obviously passed at birth in the year
1908. Just think, they could have made such contributions as the
Craighead brothers did back in the mid 1960's.
A decon container hangs nearby, to solicit you to visit these
brothers. Please be respectful of the location and replace the
container as found so that others may enjoy the visit as well.
Mosquitos were thick and prevalent during our visit in September.
Come prepared.