Thea, mother lion, holds up the train in Glacier Park. One foot on the platform and one foot on the train, she refuses to move until the train company provides the sleeper car she expects for her family.
Thea, mother lion, holds up the train in Glacier Park. One foot on the platform and one foot on the train, she refuses to move until the train company provides the sleeper car she expects for her family.
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The whole family had taken the train from Chicago to the East portal to Glacier Park, rented a car, and spent several days in the park staying at the lodge(s). One day Thea, Phil, and I went for a hike, leaving the two girls at the lodge. We had asked the Ranger, “What should we do if we see a bear?” He said, “Get off the trail and let him have it. If you don’t bother him, he won’t bother you.” I was hiking a bit ahead of the other two, and as I went around a curve in the trail there was a bear coming towards me. I rapidly about-faced, went back to the others, and said, “We should get off the trail.” We lightly leapt over a wee ditch on the south side of the trail, clambered about 50 yards up a steep bank, turned around and sat down to wait. As we did so, the bear appeared. He stopped, looked around, and sniffed the air. Then he carefully went off the trail on the NORTH side, walked in an almost perfect semi-circle with us as the center, rejoined the trail, and padded on out of sight around the next curve. Clearly the Ranger gave the same advice to everyone, Man or Bear. And somehow, while we were evading and watching the bear and the adrenaline was flooding and subsiding, that wee ditch that we had leapt over so lightly had turned into a mighty gully that we had to slide down into and scrabble up out of.