Page 28 of Capture the Moment
“That package was critical to the hunt, Feldmann.” It held Wade’s favorite bow, a custom-made compound bow that he had affectionately named “Whisper.” The bow had a sleek black design with intricate engravings along the limbs, a testament to its craftsmanship. Its draw weight was precisely calibrated to Wade’s strength, allowing him to handle it with ease even during long hunts.
Accompanying Whisper were arrows, each meticulously crafted and fletched to perfection. Wade favored broadheads with their razor-sharp blades. Each arrow had a marking near the fletching, a small detail that revealed the unique property of the arrow—its weight or balance. Wade’s prowess with a bow was his greatest pride. He spent hours fine-tuning his bow and arrows, ensuring they were in prime condition for the next hunt.
“Don’t you worry, sir. I’ll find a replacement.”
Wade scoffed. “Impossible. My bow is not just a weapon, Feldmann. It’s my partner. You need to get it here.”
“Right. Of course.”
Just like a rider and their trusted saddle, Wade’s bond with Whisper went beyond functionality. It was a symbol of his skill, dedication, and connection to the ancient art of archery. And when he drew Whisper’s string and released an arrow, it was a dance of precision and deadly intent, a connection between hunter and tool.
“Uh, Mr. Schmidt,” Feldmann said, “archery is for small game. You can’t shoot a bear with a bow and arrow.”
“You’re right,” Wade said. “Most people can’t. But I’m not like most people.”
Eight
Any glimpse into the life of an animal quickens our own and makes it so much the larger and better in every way.
—John Muir
The sun began its descent behind the rugged peaks of the Grand Tetons, casting a warm amber glow across the landscape as Kate hurried toward the Jenny Lake Visitor Center. Twenty minutes ago, she had been knee-deep in the Gros Ventre River, clad in waders, attempting to capture the perfect shot of a beaver dam bathed in the golden hues of a long summer night. She loved these long twilights! Perfect lighting for so many shots of wildlife. And there was so much wildlife to be seen at dawn and at dusk.
She’d only been here for a few days, and she’d already learned so much. How to walk in a river wearing waders without tripping, for one. Stay away from where other photographers were camped out, for another. She was proud of herself. Oliver said she’d be running home after the first howl she heard. Well, she’d already heard plenty of howls, bugles, and eagle screeches.
But Kate had yet to photograph 399. It was a small comfortthat no one else had, either. But only a small comfort, because that could mean the bear hadn’t survived the winter.
With no time for a shower or change of clothes, she drove to Jenny Lake and found one last open spot in the parking lot. Jenny Lake was an area she wanted to explore, so she planned to hike out here tomorrow. The visitor center was much smaller than she’d expected, cabin-like, and when she opened the door, she found it packed with people sitting on metal folding chairs.
Coop was at the front, near a large rock fireplace. Kate stood by the door, looking for a seat. The older ranger, the one she’d met this morning at the river, saw her and waved her to him. He pointed to an empty seat right up front. “Next to my granddaughter, Maisie.”
With a resigned shrug, Kate made her way to the front row, and Coop momentarily faltered. The fabric of her still-wet waders made aswish-swashsound as she walked. The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, and Kate could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on her. The gray-haired pigtailed woman made a snippy remark as Kate swish-swashed past her. “Take another dip with the otters before coming here?”
On the other side of the pigtailed woman was a friendly young face next to an empty chair. “I’m Maisie,” she said, patting the chair. “Pops told me to save a seat for a beautiful woman who loves bears.” She smiled at Kate, a big smile, full of metal braces.
Kate guessed the girl was around twelve or thirteen. She had an almost old-fashioned look about her: copper-colored hair tumbling down her back in a tangle of curls, sparkling blue eyes, and a round, freckled face with a slightly upturned nose. “Sorry to be late,” she whispered. “I lost track of time.” She settled into the chair and looked at Coop, whose eyes were still on her.
Coop gave his head a slight shake, then lifted his notes, as if trying to remember where he’d left off. Standing along theside of the room, Tim Rivers said, “You were telling us about the cozy world of bear hibernation, Ranger Coop.”
“Right,” Coop said. “Right.” He searched his notes, a streak of red rising along his cheeks.
Kate reached into her bag and took out a notepad and a pen. She hoped she hadn’t missed much. This topic of hibernation fascinated her. Such a mystery.
Coop kept looking through his notes as an awkward silence filled the room.
“Bears and me,” the older ranger said, “have something in common. When we find that perfect spot, we take our napping seriously.”
The audience chuckled, and Coop seemed to loosen up with the ranger’s light touch. “As I was saying,” he said, glancing briefly at Kate as he started again, “you might think hibernation is all about a long nap, but there’s much more to it. So let’s break down what happens during a bear’s winter hibernation. When it comes to choosing a den, bears go for remote, high-country locations, maybe a cave or a hollowed-out tree. It’s all about peace and quiet. And they usually return to the same den each year, like coming back to your favorite vacation spot.”
“Like Disney World,” Maisie said. “Even though I’ve never gone. I hear it’sawesomethough.”
“Save your money,” Frankie said. He stood at the far end of the front row, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “It’s a complete rip-off. Long lines, overpriced churros. American capitalism at its worst.”
“You’re exactly right, Maisie.” Coop’s face softened as he addressed Maisie’s question, clearly fond of her.
That look was a little heart melting, Kate thought. Like a tough guy with a tender heart.
“Mostpeople”—now Coop cast a frowning side glance atFrankie—“love going to Disney World or Disneyland repeatedly. It’s familiar and enjoyable. That’s exactly how a bear considers its lair.
