National Park or Jurassic Park?

by Denny Banister

I love camping, although I am not a camping purist. My idea of sleeping under the stars is in a modern, weatherproof tent, and now that I’m in the ‘aging rapidly’ stage of life, I am more receptive to the idea of roughing it in a pop-up camper – you know, a tent with a hard roof and hard floor, but soft beds. I do not consider sitting inside a multi-thousand dollar air-conditioned motor home, watching television provided by the behemoth’s own satellite dish, as getting back to nature.

I love fishing, although I am not a fishing purist. I fish in state parks where trout streams are well-stocked, and where, after developing a reasonable number of fishing skills, I am relatively sure I’ll cook trout on my camp stove for supper. I do not consider dropping bait into a shallow concrete, guaranteed catch, pay-by-the-pound commercial fishing pond as developing angling skills – it’s more difficult to ‘catch’ fish at a seafood market.

I love hiking with a backpack and walking stick, although I am not a hiking purist. When it comes to the great outdoors, I stick to well-established trails where spotting wildlife means seeing rabbits, deer, and if lucky, an occasional fox. I do not consider ‘mall-walking’ or strolling an asphalt path as a legitimate form of trekking exercise.

I have camped in total isolation, fished in quiet natural streams and hiked in the Rockies. On my outings, I have seen deep scars left high on tree trunks by stretching bears. I have seen enough. I do not wish to encounter a bear, and in spite of their legends, I’ll bet Daniel Boone and Davey Crockett didn’t relish such a grizzly experience either. The only way I would ever want to ‘stare-down’ a grizzly bear is if I am staring down the aiming end of a loaded elephant gun with my finger on the trigger – and even then, I know I would soil myself.

U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service bureaucrats are not so timid. They plan to release 25 grizzly bears in the mountain range along the Idaho-Montana border in late summer of 2002. Idaho Governor Dirk Kempthorne, reacting to the grizzly plan, said, “I oppose bringing these massive, flesh-eating carnivores into Idaho – whenever there’s an encounter between a human and a grizzly, the human does not fare well.” Despite the governor’s legitimate concern, Fish and Wildlife officials scoff at any idea of danger, claiming grizzly contact with humans in the remote four-million acre area is unlikely.

Unlikely? Sorry, unlikely is not nearly unlikely enough. True, bears avoid humans, and 25 grizzly bears can easily get lost in four-million acres of forest. But so can I. One grizzly every 160,000 acres is not nearly enough territory to ensure it wouldn’t be my luck to run into 24 of them on a five-mile hike.

With modern genetic capabilities, can it be long before those who ‘serve’ us and look out for our ‘best interests’ will proudly announce the reintroduction of saber-tooth tigers? And why stop there? Surely we can get some DNA from an extinct dinosaur or two – you know, like the muscular beasts with razor-sharp teeth from Jurassic Park. Our forests are plumb out of huge, meat-eating monsters – with 25 possible exceptions.

Editor’s note: Denny Banister of Jefferson City is assistant director of information and public relations for the Missouri Farm Bureau.