I spent a chunk of my 20’s working seasonally at a remote lodge in Alaska. Same national forest that Timothy Treadwell lived, and died in.
If you’ve ever seen a picture of a grizzly catching a salmon on a waterfall, it was more than likely taken at Brooks Falls. Which for many summers, was my backyard.
Needless to say I was regularly in close proximity of grizzlies. Like, 20 feet apart fishing in the same river as them.
There were bald eagles, grouse, owls, ptarmigans and mergansers. I had to smash a grouse with a large rock. They get super territorial and go straight for the eyes. Felt like shit, but it was him or me.
You’d see otters fuckin off in the river and the occasional beaver.
I saw two lynx brawling it out once. That was fuggin wild.
Oh yeah there was a dusty, old, decrepit, lone wolf named Buster.
Buster Hymen