I love spring! You see more and more people getting outside enjoying our parks. I have a few things to help get you outdoors this week, including tips for your next trip to Paterson Great Falls National Historical Park, an excuse to take the kids out, and a new perspective of some of the trails in Sequoia National Park.

1. Paterson Great Falls National Historical Park has a new FREE audio tour app! This app is a self-guided walking tour that is intended to educate visitors of the history, geology, and social and cultural importance of this park. Did you know the Great Falls pours roughly two billion gallons of water into the canyon each day?
2. What animal do you think you’ll cross paths with when hiking the trails of our national parks? Bison? Elk? Fox? Birds? Alligators? Everglades National Park offers a unique wildlife experience where this is just an everyday occurrence. Photo courtesy of Everglades National Park Facebook page.
   
   
3. Our national parks are starting to bloom. It is National Wildflower Week and beautiful images of our national parks’ flowers are popping up on Pinterest. Here is a beautiful image of Desert Tissue Spring Flowers found in Joshua Tree National Park, CA. What park is your favorite to watch bloom?
4. The granola gurus at Nature Valley have shown their commitment to our parks  over the last four years by funding exciting projects with their Preserve the Parks campaign (including numerous restoration work days around the country in partnership with NPCA). A really innovative extension of this campaign is “Nature Valley Trail View” where their staff have set out to create a 360-degree “street view” of some of our national park trails. The newest addition are trails from Sequoia National Park. Check it out!
5. May 18th is National Kids to Parks Day, organized by National Park Trust. More than 100,000 people have already pledged to take kids to a park. Make your pledge today! This campaign’s mascot is “Buddy Bison” and we love his quote: “Explore outdoors, the parks are yours!” So get outside and enjoy our national parks!

Find something fun about national parks on the ’net? Let me know!

-Megan Cantrell, Senior Coordinator of Member Engagement

Several years ago, I was driving along a snaking bend of State Highway 22 that bisects Jackson Hole, Wyoming, and encountered the body of massive bull elk hanging from a fence that paralleled the road, its back legs hamstrung by four unyielding strands of barbed wire. His antlers were partially buried in a deep, windswept trough of snow and his lifeless eyes fixed on some distant point on the horizon. I wondered how long he had been hanging there.

Since that time, I have become more aware of man’s heavy hand on the landscape, and a deep desire has grown in my heart to change things—really fix the problems, beyond the ebb and flow of politics. Last year, Nature Valley generously granted my wish.

In partnership with Nature Valley, Grand Teton National Park, the Pinto Ranch, and the Jackson Hole Wildlife Foundation, NPCA embarked on an ambitious fence-modification project to allow pronghorn, bison, and elk safe passage into the park. The eastern boundary of Grand Teton was historically used for cattle grazing since the late 1800s, and many of these fences still stand in various stages of disrepair and pose a serious hazard to migrating animals. Often, the park simply does not have the budget to remove them. That’s why NPCA works so hard to provide support to parks like Grand Teton, whose maintenance backlog is nearing $900 million, and why we also work literally on the ground with partners like Nature Valley to help preserve the large landscapes that sustain so many wildlife species.

Grand Teton still permits some cattle grazing in the park—a grandfathered use from its historic ranching past. The fences in the North Elk Ranch allotment have been kept in good condition, but still block wildlife movement in the northern part of the park, where many species of animals migrate through. In the spring, we met with the manager of the Pinto Ranch to discuss how to make the fences in this area safer for wildlife, while still providing a reliable enclosure for his cows. We collectively agreed upon a modification of a five-mile fence that would raise the bottom wire to allow pronghorn to crawl under it, and then add a top rail to prevent wildlife from becoming ensnared as they jumped the fence.  In the fall, 25 dedicated volunteers headed out to the problem fence, armed with an arsenal of tools. Together we broke the hold of those tenacious hooked strands and restrung the fence, as bison and pronghorn grazed nearby. The bison, being the curious creatures that they are, couldn’t resist a closer look and came to survey the unusual activity on their range.

Our volunteers ranged from 20 to 70 years old, men and women alike, led by our fearless leaders Greg and Gretchen, whose vigilance and efficiency helped keep us moving forward. Volunteers flanked the fence and pulled hard to remove wire and retrieve staples from tenacious old wood posts. As I surveyed our group toiling under the blazing sun, we more closely resembled a chain gang than a bunch of environmental do-gooders. It struck me that these people weren’t policy makers or activists; they were just regular folks out there trying to do something—or, more accurately, fix something. We fixed a lot of fence that day, and as the sun waned, we stood admiring our handiwork: the same sturdy posts, but now, without the harmful bottom wire.

Just as we were ready to hang up our gloves for the day, hauling big unwieldy loops of barbed wire into the back of the pick-up, I noticed a single pronghorn buck approach to within fifteen feet of where I stood. He sauntered over to the fence, contemplating what had changed, and nervously paced back and forth. In one sudden movement, he ducked his graceful horns in the newly cleared space, slipped under the fence, and headed to the nearby irrigation ditch for a drink. It took this intelligent creature less than ten minutes to realize that the obstacle that had been in place for decades was now gone, and to take advantage of our work.

There are some things in life that go beyond words, and I took this as a thank you of the highest order.

The expansive views of the Southern Appalachian Mountains from the summit of Hemphill Bald are enough to make anyone want to plop down in the tall grass and spend the day watching the shadows of clouds flow across the landscape. On a sunny Saturday this past summer, however, I found myself joining 30 other volunteers, picks and shovels in hand, to put a little sweat equity back into a landscape that has served my life as both a foundation and a refuge.

Great Smoky Mountains National Park lies like a pearl on the string of the Appalachian National Scenic Trail, the thread running down the spine of some of the world’s oldest mountains. The rich biodiversity, scenery, and recreation of the region draw more visitors to the Smokies than to any other National Park—more than 9.6 million in 2012. Hemphill Bald lies directly on the park’s boundary and crowns the shared mountainside between the park and the adjacent Cataloochee Ranch. The ranch is privately managed and its owners have granted conservation easements on much of the area to the Southern Appalachian Highlands Conservancy (SAHC), our partners in a project to restore and enhance the critical boundary with the park. SAHC is not only a first-rate land trust, they knowledgably take care of the areas they have worked to preserve.

With the generous and thoughtful support of Nature Valley’s Preserve the Parks program, our volunteers divided into two groups to work on separate projects. One group spent the day selectively clearing brush and trimming vegetation to “feather” the edges between the mountain forests and the adjacent open areas. This edge habitat is critically important to numerous migratory birds and will help the park—which maintains few open areas—to serve as a living link in the chain of the Southern Appalachian Mountains.

I went with the second group to repair a 50-yard-long section of trail adjacent to the park that was suffering severe erosion. As an avid hiker, I gained a renewed appreciation for the incredible amount of human energy that goes into maintaining such trails in steep terrain. While digging up, re-grading and “out-sloping” (reshaping) the trail was pretty intense, I thoroughly enjoyed exchanging stories with the other volunteers and learning about their connections to the land and the reasons that each of them were there that day.

As we were taking a mid-morning break, an unexpected form of “wildlife” visited us—an emaciated hunting hound that had obviously been lost in the park for some time. The poor animal was so weak that she simply lay down on the side of the trail, unresponsive to our attempts to give water and some of our trail snacks to her—that is, until someone decided to offer her one of the Nature Valley granola bars the company had provided to our crew. She ate two of them right away and then began to take water out of a hard hat—so we nicknamed her “Nola,” short for granola. By the end of the day, Nola was regaining her strength and the folks at Cataloochee Ranch had located her owner in nearby Cherokee, North Carolina, where she made it safely back home. I think it’s safe to say that, to the kind folks at Nature Valley, Nola adds her thanks to ours.

Our full volunteer group gathered on Hemphill Bald for lunch to swap stories, hear from the Ranch folks about their commitment to preserving this magnificent landscape, and absorb the awe-inspiring view. This day’s work renewed my gratitude for all of the visionaries from the past who worked to set aside these invaluable resources, for the many hands and hearts who have labored to build and maintain the trails I have walked, and how much of each has gone into every step I’ve taken.

As a resident of the New York City area and the wife of a business school student, I’ve spent countless hours listening to my peers discuss which new mobile app or digital tool will revolutionize America and improve the quality of life for people throughout the nation. Yet, I remain convinced that one of America’s greatest products does not rely on software upgrades or Wi-Fi access to bring happiness to an increasing number of Americans each year. I’m referring to an island oasis filled with sun-kissed mountains, sandy beaches, and deep blue waters located off the coast of Maine: Acadia National Park.

Acadia National Park is located near the town of Bar Harbor on Maine’s Mount Desert Island and became a national park site in 1916. The region was initially inhabited by the native Wabanaki people and the first Europeans settled in 1763. Since then, Bar Harbor has been home to such prominent Americans as John D. Rockefeller, Jr., who invested millions into Acadia. Most notably, he financed, designed, and directed the construction of an innovative 50-mile network of carriage trails throughout the park between 1915 and 1933. Like all great businessmen, Mr. Rockefeller recognized the significant value of Acadia and was dedicated to increasing the public’s access and exposure to this national treasure.

Mr. Rockefeller made a commitment to public access in Acadia that continues to this day. With a generous contribution from Nature Valley, NPCA recently partnered with Friends of Acadia, a leading organization in grassroots park stewardship, and the National Park Service (NPS) to help fulfill the goal of completing Village Connector Trails to provide better access to the park. These trails are designed to decrease automobile congestion while facilitating increased connectivity of visitors and residents to the park, continuing Rockefeller’s legacy.

On June 2, 2012, National Trails Day, I had the opportunity to represent NPCA at the dedication ceremony of the Duck Brook Connector Trail, the fifth trail in the Village Connector Trail series. This trail begins on Maine’s Route 3 outside the front entrance of the Acadia Inn and (thanks to a generous easement from the inn) provides a direct route to the carriage roads developed by Mr. Rockefeller almost a century earlier. During the trail dedication, I was struck by the number and diversity of people who attended: They were neighbors and tourists, seasoned park-lovers and first-timers, retirees and college students. Despite inclement weather, they were eager to commend the tremendous efforts of NPCA, Friends of Acadia, and NPS and hike the new trail for the first time.

The effort to make Acadia more open and accessible is not over. Nature Valley has continued to provide generous funding toward this project, and NPCA in conjunction with Friends of Acadia is currently completing another trail in Trenton, Maine, just outside the new Acadia Welcome Center. And as I toured my favorite national park this past October, I reflected on other initiatives that the various partners of Acadia, like Nature Valley, have advanced over the years to ensure that more people experience and appreciate this special place. Their work has included diverse projects, from clean, propane buses that tour the park to the Schoodic Education and Resource Center, Acadia’s training and research center dedicated to educating youth in one of Maine’s poorest communities.

Acadia, like other national parks, is a one-of-a-kind, American-made creation that has provided ecological health, recreational opportunities, economic prosperity, and an appreciation for the natural world to millions of people. At NPCA, we will continue to champion Acadia and applaud the efforts of NPS and Friends of Acadia for bringing the park to a larger and more diverse segment of America. I am grateful to Nature Valley and other public and private partners that recognize our national parks are ventures that are just as worthy of investment today as they were almost a century ago.

Lessons from NPCA’s Nature Valley Restoration Event at Big Morongo Canyon Preserve

By Seth Shteir, California Desert Field Representative

As a former teacher, I’ve always associated autumn with buying pencils and notebooks and easing back into the school year. However, in my newer role as NPCA’s California Desert Field Representative, the season has taken on a whole new meaning.

The fall is now inextricably linked in my mind to National Public Lands Day. It’s a day to celebrate our national parks and other protected areas, but also a day to give back and invest in future generations.

I thought a great deal about these values during our Nature Valley Restoration Event at Big Morongo Canyon Preserve on September 29. With the support of Nature Valley’s Preserve the Parks program, the event was a community-led collaboration between NPCA, Friends of Big Morongo Canyon Preserve, the Palm Springs Bureau of Land Management, and College of the Desert. More than 40 volunteers from our partner organizations, along with the U.S. Marines, local youth, and citizens from Morongo Valley, removed invasive clover and cleared trails during a cool fall morning. Big Morongo Canyon is an essential source of water for Joshua Tree National Park’s bighorn sheep, as well as an internationally renowned bird-watching destination. The restoration work to remove invasive species will result in a healthier ecology for this fragile canyon and for Joshua Tree National Park.

Adding artistic expression to the restoration, College of the Desert Professor Ruth Nolan brought her students and ran an afternoon poetry workshop in Big Morongo Canyon Preserve. Ruth is a published poet who has written extensively about the desert and was editor of No Place for a Puritan, an anthology of writing from the California desert. “In my class curriculum, I integrate the literary written arts with an emphasis on nature, particularly our surrounding desert areas,” says Nolan. Not only did her young students pull more invasive clover and clear more brush from trails than I did, but they also made the connection between the world of art and the world of nature. Two of the young students wrote poems demonstrating their appreciation for public lands after the restoration event and a hike through Big Morongo Canyon’s lush desert oasis.

Desert

By Jennipher Martinez

sand dune
    loose, looks soft

tortoise
    treading its way through sand

oasis
    providing water for animals and plants

lizard
    looking for bugs to eat, then sliding away

sunrise
    the time I look to make a new day

Desert Oasis Soundscape

By Darlene Arciga

Here I sit, alone,
hidden beneath the trees,
in my solitary state
but I know I am not alone.

The trees beside me
sway gently to and fro,
responding to the cool caress
of the afternoon breeze,

Their leaves like strands
of my hair, swaying peacefully.
The warm wind whispers
its hushed secrets

to the life around me:
the faint buzz of unknown creatures,
and the cheerful chirps of birds
singing songs to the earth

How relaxing this is….
let me stay here forever.

After hearing and reading these poems, it occurred to me that if stewardship of our national parks and public lands can be thought of as a relay race, these students had taken the baton and were running towards the finish! Luz Olmeda, one of the College of the Desert students and poetry workshop participants, summed up the value of special places like our desert national parks and public lands nicely:

“It’s important to protect public lands because they are areas that connect us to our origins and source. These areas have essence, stories and life. When we preserve them we give ourselves the opportunity to stay in touch with nature and wildlife that we don’t get to experience any other way.”

In conservation, it is easy to get wrapped up in wonky policy debates or overcome by process. Fortunately, my Nature Valley-sponsored “Path of the Pronghorn” hikes each fall are a poignant reminder of the beauty and natural order that exist in Yellowstone National Park and why we work so hard to protect it.

This season, I led five trips with a total of 35 individuals across Mount Everts, a prominent peak in the park’s northern range. Starting at the pronghorns’ high-altitude summer habitat of the Blacktail Deer Plateau, following ancient migration paths across a forgotten landscape for more than ten miles, we drop several thousand feet in elevation to arrive at the animals’ wintering grounds near Gardiner, Montana, near the north entrance of Yellowstone.

During the course of this cross-country jaunt, I explain the biological and natural history of the Yellowstone pronghorn while observing them in the backcountry, unaffected by roads or other development. The importance of our Nature Valley habitat improvement project becomes all the more obvious after seeing pronghorn unfettered by fences. Much of the time when I’m working with volunteers to improve pronghorn habitat, we are removing or adapting fences to help the animals migrate safely and find adequate snow-free winter habitat. These hikes, however, are about enjoying the many surprises the backcountry has to offer.

Hiking during the fall rutting season, we often get to witness the famous elk bugle, so close you can almost feel their breath. It’s also not uncommon to wander up on a lone bison bull standing motionless under a scratching pine—more than once we had to alter our route to avoid these iconic and stately sentinels of Yellowstone. Last year, a large group of us were even fortunate enough to witness the entire Blacktail wolf pack—16 animals—trot right in front of us, and we were able to follow and observe them hunting elk.

Over the past three seasons guiding more than 100 people, I’ve yet to take the same path twice. Every trip has had its own special sightings and experiences.

On September 30, our hike started out as so many have in the frosty first hours of dawn near the still and reflective Blacktail Ponds. After a few hours we arrived at the first of the many unnamed kettle ponds that dot the plateau of Mt. Everts. Normally, this is right in the middle of the elk activity, but despite hearing them bugle in Gardiner and Mammoth on the drive up, we were not hearing nor seeing anything. When a skittish bison took off running at the sight of us almost a half mile away, I realized wolves had been back since my last hike. With all the prey animals chased out of the area, we were not expecting to see much the rest of the day. I decided to take a detour to a slight saddle to the west, figuring if there were elk anywhere they would be there, so we should at least take a look. Plus, I knew of a rare moose horn to show folks along the way.

Just as we arrived on a hill before the pass, I stopped to spot the horn with my binoculars. What I saw instead was a large collared wolf appearing over the horizon. Black as a new moon and totally uninterested in us, we watched this magnificent animal continue into the draw below us. Excited and stunned, we all stood there basking in our good fortune.

Should we continue toward where the wolf had just been? As we considered what to do next, I looked up and saw we had more company.

We froze as a second wolf, this one large and gray-colored, came over the same hill, snorting and sniffing the ground as it went, only interested in the black wolf’s scent. It headed toward a small kettle pond and was bounding through the tall reeds around it when we saw the black wolf’s head pop up. The gray wolf disappeared while the black wolf jumped toward it. This hide-and-seek went back and forth for a number of minutes until the black wolf moved south and we lost sight of it.

The gray wolf then sat on the hill above the pond for more than 15 minutes while we sat eating our lunch. Just looking around cool and calm as can be, it could have been mistaken for a pet dog on a porch. Finally, it howled mournfully for a full fifteen minutes across the hillsides with only the five of us and the rest of the wildlife there to enjoy the moving sound. When visitors see wolves along the roads of Yellowstone, they typically share the experience with dozens of others. To experience wildlife like this, alone in the backcountry, is as unparalleled as it is unforgettable. Finally, the gray wolf got a response (the black wolf?) and disappeared over the hill.

Sharing this seemingly inaccessible corner of the park and experiencing the landscape and wildlife as they are meant to be goes far beyond any typical sense of workplace satisfaction. Mount Everts is a profound source of pleasure and renewal, and a reminder of the responsibility we have when we live in the shadow of Yellowstone to protect its endless wonders and surprises.

Too often when we think of national parks, we think of distant places enjoyed by tourists—yet millions of people in cities across the country are just a bus ride or a quick car trip away from these inspirational places. Part of what I do is help connect people—especially kids and young adults—to the nature and history that is right there in their own community.

Florida City in South Florida is an excellent example. This city is just six miles from Everglades National Park, yet many of its residents have never been to the world-class park that is right in their backyard.

The National Parks Conservation Association (NPCA) and Nature Valley® partnered with Miami-Dade County and Florida City last month to help engage the next generation of park lovers in meaningful, hands-on experiences in nature. Our goal was to restore a piece of land known as the Florida City Pineland Preserve to its natural beauty. This 25-acre parcel was once part of the Everglades but had since become an island surrounded by development, suffering from dumping and neglect, and not easily accessible to the public.

So, on October 13, I drove down the Florida Turnpike while the sun was rising, eager to get to work. As I drove, I feared that the fickle weather would foil our plans. After a promising week of sunny 80-degree days, Mother Nature seemed to play a nasty trick and ominous dark clouds filled the sky. With a loud crack of thunder, a vicious downpour of rain lashed my windshield—the kind of rain that drives many South Floridians running for cover. However, my spirits soon lifted. Within an hour, the clouds had passed, and the day turned warm and sunny. As an added bonus, the rain made the soil more suitable for planting. Mother Nature was on our side after all.

Despite the early storm, more than 50 volunteers arrived to help. Most of our volunteers were high school students from the urban core of Miami. The students were beaming with enthusiasm and eager to plant trees, remove invasive species, collect pine needles to spread as mulch, and clean up trash. Not one of them complained about the heat and hard work; in fact, they worked so well together that we finished all of our planting and mulching early. They even asked for more work!

This was not our first time working with some of these volunteers. Last March, NPCA hosted a volunteer day to build a pathway with educational signs through the Pineland Preserve—a successful project that makes it easier for Florida City residents to enjoy and learn about the Everglades. Now, as the group arrived at the park, they could see the small native plants we had planted in the spring were starting to sprout gorgeous flowers. Neighbors could already see that these 25 acres were no longer just an unkempt plot of land, but a refuge and a pathway to the Everglades.

The restoration will benefit more than just people. South Florida’s torrential rains have traditionally fed pristine wetlands and hardwood hammocks, but many of these natural areas have been lost to construction over the past 20 years, as urban sprawl creeps closer to the Everglades. But pocket parks maintain pieces of what the natural environment used to look like, and the Pineland Preserve contains some of the few remnants of pine rockland habitat that once covered much of Miami-Dade County. Restoring this property to its original state will provide endangered species with critical habitat despite the urbanization taking place all around them.

One of the kids asked whether such a small parcel was worth restoring, since it seems like a disconnected island without much purpose. I answered—and spending the better part of a day in the Pineland helped to show—that, in fact, it isn’t an island at all, but rather an oasis teeming with wildlife.

One of the most rewarding parts of this project was getting to connect dozens of local students to the park and to help them to see the fruits of their labor. It was clear that these youth felt a sense of accomplishment and ownership after their hours of hard work. When we were done, students stood tall next to a sign that we posted, letting locals and tourists know that this property, once neglected and overgrown with weeds, has been restored as native habitat and is now a pathway park–open for all to come and experience a taste of the Everglades.

As the season rushes into high summer, I’m left thinking fondly of the past month in Yellowstone National Park and Paradise Valley near my home in Livingston, Montana. The fickle transition from spring to summer is often associated with the astrological sign of Gemini, or twins, and this is especially fitting for me, because every June, the pronghorn antelope (Antilocapra americana) I work to protect almost always give birth to twins.

Perhaps my own June birthday makes me biased, but for me, the twin fawning is the most memorable facet in the life of the pronghorn. Pronghorn fawns prancing behind their mothers makes all seem right in the world. Graced with what looks like a permanent smile, perky ears, and long eyelashes accentuated by a highly evolved skull and circulatory system, baby pronghorn are fragile and resilient.

Pronghorn are the world’s fastest land animal over distance (second only to the African Cheetah in raw speed). Able to outrun any predator within weeks of birth, pronghorn’s most vulnerable time is during the first weeks of life as they get their legs under them. I consider myself lucky that I caught a glimpse of baby pronghorn this June, because fawns spend most of their day lying still, alone, amongst the rock, sage, and grasses. Remaining motionless up to a half-mile from their mothers for hours at a time is their primary defense against common predators like coyotes and eagles, until they can simply outrun everything.

Although many pronghorn are born in Yellowstone National Park, no pronghorn live exclusively in the park. Driven by ancient instincts to migrate, the Yellowstone pronghorn move north to Montana’s Gardiner Basin and Paradise Valley. Here the odds are stacked against them and have been for more than 100 years. Development, degraded habitat, and fences blocked the pronghorn migration corridor as early as 1920. Faced with a mere 19 square miles of poor winter habitat and isolated from other animals, the last remaining Yellowstone herd has been squeaking by for decades at around 200 animals.

Summer 2012 marks my third season as the Yellowstone Wildlife Fellow for National Parks Conservation Association. For the past three years, NPCA has been removing and modifying fences in the pronghorn migration corridor, increasing and improving access to quality snow-free winter and fawning habitat.

Ironically enough, thanks to the unique physiology that allows them to run up to 30 mph indefinitely, the pronghorn’s one fatal flaw is difficulty jumping fences. Unlike deer and elk which gracefully bound over virtually any fence, pronghorn awkwardly need to crawl under them. So, when faced with the absolute barrier presented by woven sheep fence, barbed wire close to the ground, or a decorative wooden fence, the pronghorn are stuck.

As I watch the forage going to seed and dried to a crisp weeks before it should in the drought and record temperatures we are having this summer, the pronghorn’s search for additional habitat is as relentless as the inevitable winter. The twins are reluctantly being weaned, the bucks are beefing up for a heady fall season where they won’t eat for over a month during the rut, and the does simply need to recover from giving birth to two fawns that weighed up to 17 percent of their own body weight.

With the support of Nature Valley’s Preserve the Parks program, NPCA staff and volunteers have removed several miles of fence north of the park on private and public lands. Our multi-year, on-the-ground, solution-based approach to wildlife issues has started to pay dividends. In March 2011, after one of the coldest and snowiest winters on record, pronghorn were seen in areas of the valley they hadn’t occupied in generations.

During the June 2012 fawning season, a number of mothers made the Yankee Jim Canyon the place to start a family and have their litters. Local landowners are noticing pronghorn staying in this area much longer than they’ve seen here as far back as anyone can remember. The native grasses and flowering plants, along with good cover, provide ideal fawning habitat while the young grow and learn quickly to withstand the rigors and threats of life in Yellowstone.

By removing numerous fences along the areas where Forest Service and private land meet, combined with another rancher replacing his old-school barbed wire and wooden jack fences with wildlife-friendly alternatives, the pronghorn of Yankee Jim have been able to live, fawn, and grow relatively unencumbered as they did over 100 years ago.

Watching the Yankee Jim twins develop into bounding balls of ears, eyes, and legs, and survive into a hopeful extension of the herd, inspires me to continue our work this summer and fall in time for a future generation of pronghorn next June.

Will you join me?

Joe Josephson is a 4th generation Montanan born and raised along the Yellowstone River. He can be reached at jjosephson@npca.org.

If you liked this story, you might also like:

• Getting Close to Katmai’s Bears in the Hopes of Protecting Them (July 31, 2012)
• Friday Photo: Hi-Def Yosemite Webcam the Latest Online Glimpse into the National Parks (May 18, 2012)
• Friday Photo: A Cool Swim at Katmai (June 1, 2012)