Arizona: Frustrated Grand Canyon ranger cries when tourists 'rescue' baby fawn and carry it in a T-shirt to ranger station thinking it had been abandoned

ARIZONA -- The temperature was pushing 110 degrees last Thursday when ranger Della Yurcik was staffing the ranger station at Phantom Ranch in Grand Canyon National Park.

Around noon, another ranger answered the doorbell to a couple standing with a young fawn, not more than a foot and a half tall, wrapped in a t-shirt, Yurcik said. The couple said the baby deer had walked up to them near a creek about a quarter mile from Phantom Ranch and, after not seeing the animal’s mother around, they decided it probably needed help, according to Yurcik.

As well-meaning as the gesture was, scooping up the baby deer was detrimental to the deer and could have risked its survival, Yurcik said.

Handling, approaching or interacting with wildlife in the park makes the animals more accustomed to humans, leading them to do things like search trash for food and move into populated areas, which can lead to dangerous interactions with people, park officials said.

“People don't realize in national parks that we keep the wildlife wild” Yurcik said.

Grand Canyon National Park is filled with signs urging visitors to keep their distance from wildlife, reminding them that it is illegal to feed or approach wild animals. But still, human-wildlife interactions are common, especially in the Grand Canyon Village area on the South Rim, said Brandon Holton, wildlife biologist with the park.

Most often it’s when people approach squirrels or elk, trying to feed them or get closer for a good photo, Holton said.

It was the fawn incident as well as recent news that visitors were seen filling their cupped hands with water and letting elk drink out of them that spurred the park to make a push to educate the public on the importance of leaving wildlife alone, said Kirby-Lynn Shedlowski, spokesperson with Grand Canyon National Park.

Luckily, the fawn’s story had a happy ending, with it ending up reunited with its mother.

“But we don't want an unhappy ending,” she said.

Just trying to help
When Yurcik saw the fawn, likely just a few months old, on the ranger station doorstep last week, she said she immediately instructed the visitors to put the deer down and leave.

Yurcik then took the animal back to the creek where it was found and wet it down with a towel. Rangers monitored the fawn and that evening saw its mother come back to it. Two days later, the pair was observed together again, Yurcik said.

A ranger at the canyon for 13 years, Yurcik said the experience initially brought her to tears because she initially feared she would have to euthanize the baby deer. She was thinking of the bison calf in Yellowstone National Park that had to be euthanized in May after tourists loaded the animal into their car thinking it had been abandoned.

Just like those at Yellowstone, the hikers at Grand Canyon were surprised that they were scolded for trying to help what appeared to be an animal in distress, Yurcik said.

“The baby just happened to be walking by when people came, so in their mind it was coming up to them for help,” she said. Yurcik said she will likely issue the visitors a citation, and because handling wildlife is a Class B misdemeanor the charge could be up to six months in jail or five years probation and/or a $5000 fine.

Holden said it’s hard to make people realize the repercussions of getting close with wildlife -- even though signs are everywhere, making the message stick is difficult because most people are in the park for a day or less.

There are lots of potential consequences though. Years ago, a group of deer at Phantom Ranch had to be put down after eating human trash and getting plastic embedded in their stomachs, Holden said. If the animals become habituated to humans, they may calve in populated areas, then can become defensive around their young, which can be dangerous for people, Holden said.

Squirrels accustomed to handouts can get aggressive and seriously bite visitors, Holden said. Another worst case scenario is that deer keep approaching people to the point that they become a nuisance, and then have to be put down, Yurcik said.

Holton said it wasn’t at all unusual that the baby deer was left alone that day in the canyon. Ungulates like the canyon’s mule deer and elk often leave their young bedded down while they go forage for food. The mothers communicate with their young to stay put until they come back, Holton said.

“Unfortunately it’s commonplace for them to leave their young and it’s common for visitors to see what they assume to be abandoned animals,” Holton said. “They're trying to do a good thing and humanizing these animals -- I get that.”

(AZ Daily Sun - June 30, 2016)

Nation's oldest park ranger, 93, considers future

MONTANA -- With a can of bear spray on his hip and hearing aids in both ears, Lyle Ruterbories whistles and hums as he tends to this patch of wilderness along the Canadian border.

For 20 years, he has been the ambassador, manager, accountant, anthropologist, botanist, historian, traffic cop, landscaper, handyman and rules enforcer of Kintla Lake.



Lyle Ruterbories smiles as he speaks with a visitor to the Kintla
Lake Campground in Glacier National Park, Mont., Sept. 6, 2013.

 He still hauls gravel, mends fences and wields a chain saw to clear fallen trees from the road to the most remote encampment a visitor can drive to in Glacier National Park.

But he doesn't overdo it. He is, after all, 93 years old.

What's it like, a visitor asks, to be the oldest ranger in Glacier?

"Not in Glacier. The whole park system. The oldest working ranger in the whole park system. That includes everything," Ruterbories said.

He once heard about another ranger near his age in Washington, D.C.

"He was handing out pamphlets," Ruterbories said, with a smile. "Sitting at a desk, handing out pamphlets. Not exactly what I'm doing here, pushing wheelbarrows with gravel in it."

But Ruterbories' story is about more than longevity.

It is, in fact, two love stories: One between a man and a woman, which ended sadly and too soon; the other between that man and a beautiful stretch of wilderness, which may be coming to an end as well.

Ruterbories' first career was as a manager at Rocky Flats, a nuclear weapons manufacturing facility back home in Colorado.

But starting in 1962, he and his wife, Marge, spent every summer in Glacier.

Lyle Ruterbories' ranger cabin is seen through the fog of
Kintla Lake in Glacier National Park, Sept. 6, 2013.

Eventually, they became the hosts at the popular Avalanche Lake campground along Glacier's Going to the Sun Road.

In 1991, new North Fork District Ranger Scott Emmerich needed a host at the Kintla Lake campground, someone who didn't need constant supervision in the isolated area east of the North Fork of the Flathead River.

Emmerich was familiar with Ruterbories from his time working in the Avalanche Lake area.
Ruterbories' age — he was then 71 — was not a worry. He could still hike 28 miles in a day.

At first, the two were not easily convinced to leave Avalanche Lake for the remoteness of Kintla, Ruterbories said.

But just two years later, he turned down seven other job offers in Glacier to become Kintla's seasonal ranger so he and his wife could stay there together.

For the next 12 summers, they lived in the little red ranger's cabin on the lake's shore, she as the campground hostess, and he as the ranger.

Then, in 2005, Marge Ruterbories died of a stroke. In his grief, Ruterbories slept through most of the days that followed and could muster little will to do anything else.

A grief counselor told him he needed to get back into a routine, and part of that meant going back to Kintla.

That first day back was the worst day of his life, he said. Every step reminded him of Marge.

Lyle Ruterbories covers his tomato plants in anticipation of a frost at
Kintla Lake Campground in Glacier National Park, Sept. 5, 2013.

"The reason I come back here, she called this a paradise on earth. She really meant it. When I walk down through these trees, I still remember that," he said.

And so his life began again.

To the kayakers and hikers who brave the white-knuckle drive along the narrow gravel road to reach Kintla Lake, Ruterbories is a star.

They go there for the quiet that can be elusive in other Glacier campgrounds during the peak of summer, but often they come back because of Ruterbories.

It's an unusual phenomenon in a campground where most people visit for a night or two before moving to some other part of the park.

"Initially, we came here on a kayaking day. Just a kayaking outing," said Ingrid Forsmark, a resident of Whitefish, Mont., and Tok, Alaska, who has been coming to Kintla for the past three years.

"I met Lyle, and he was so interesting to talk with, I thought, ooh, I'm going back there."
Campers call to Ruterbories by name as he makes his rounds.

Visitors who haven't been to Kintla in a decade greet him like a long-lost uncle.

Pretty much anything can launch Ruterbories into a story.

He can shift easily between observations on a family of loons, the origins of the nickname "Gray Eagle" given him to by a Blackfeet Indian cleanup crew and recollections about the time he found a 30,000-year-old fossilized jaw of a two-toed horse in a nearby stream.

A simple hello at a campsite can turn into a 45-minute discussion of past bear encounters, near misses with wildfires or the historical Indian migration routes in the area.

National Park Service spokesman Jeff Olson confirmed Ruterbories is the oldest seasonal ranger the park service knows of. (The oldest full-time ranger is 92-year-old Betty Soskin, who works at Rosie the Riveter/World War II Home Front National Historical Park in Richmond, Calif.)

As Ruterbories has gotten older, park officials ask him to check in on the radio each evening. He doesn't go out on emergency calls anymore and a bad knee has kept him from wandering the backcountry.

He has designed special tools to help him get the jobs done around the campground, like the wheeled cart he uses to haul logs.

"He's pretty ingenious," Emmerich said. "As he ages, he has to get smarter. He thinks it through, and he's not going to hurt himself."

But the bum knee is threatening to bring an end to Ruterbories' ranger career.

Lyle Ruterbories points out routes on a map with a visitor to the Kintla
Lake Campground in Glacier National Park, Sept. 5, 2013.

The cartilage was removed in 1969, and now the joint has worn through and is hitting a nerve. He walks with a pronounced limp.

An operation could fix it, but he's worried about recovering from surgery at his age. If he doesn't go through with it, retirement is likely.

"I'll tell you what's going to happen. Everybody's talking me into getting that knee fixed. If I get it fixed, I'll be back," Ruterbories said.

Emmerich said it will be up to Ruterbories on whether he returns in 2014.

"It's his choice. He always said, 'I'll retire when you retire,'" said Emmerich, 56.

By the time this week's U.S. government shutdown closed Glacier, Ruterbories had already left the park — perhaps for the year, perhaps for good.

After the Labor Day weekend crowds departed, he went about his annual ritual of shutting down Kintla Lake.

Lyle Ruterbories covers his tomato plants in anticipation of a frost at
Kintla Lake Campground in Glacier National Park, Sept. 5, 2013.

He knew this time may be the last. But if he felt a pang of remorse at the prospect of leaving the paradise he and his wife made for themselves, he didn't show it.

His main concern is taking extra care in cleaning the little red cabin in case a new ranger is there next summer.

"I don't like to leave a mess for anybody," he said.

(CBS News - Oct 4, 2013)

Connecticut: Pit bull "clamped its jaws onto Yellow Labrador's neck... going for the kill" at state park. West Rock Park Supervisor Lori Lindquist doesn't think it's a big deal.

CONNECTICUT -- Tim Follert took his dog Matty for a walk in West Rock State Park. Suddenly, a pit bull charged from the bushes and clamped its jaws onto the yellow Lab’s neck. It seemed to be going for the kill.

With the help of some shouting, a couple of passing cyclists, and a stick, Follert was able to get the pit bull off Matty. After a $300 visit to the veterinarian, the 7-year-old Labrador Retriever is recovering from his neck wounds.

The incident has left Follert nervous for his dog’s safety. He’s avoiding West Rock State Park for the time being. Given the pit bull’s killer instinct, Follert said, he wonders if it was a dog that had been trained to fight and then escaped to the park.

During a recent visit to Follert’s apartment in the Wintergreen complex in Westville, Matty trotted around the living room, clutching his stuffed alligator in his mouth. Pink spots showed through the shaved fur on the front and back of his neck, where the vet treated his wounds.

Matty has always been a good-natured dog, which makes it all the worse that he suffered an unwarranted attack out of nowhere. “That’s what sucks,” Follert said. “He’s just a happy go-lucky dog.”

Follert said he usually takes Matty for a walk up West Rock about three times a week. On the day in question, Thursday last week, the pair were coming back from the top at around 5:30 p.m. They were walking on the main road and approaching the main gate. Matty was on a leash.

Suddenly a brown pit bull with no collar, came rushing out of the bushes. “It went right for his neck,” Follert said. “It went for the kill.”

Matty seemed stunned and confused and didn’t fight back [Typical reaction from Labradors and Retrievers -- confusion, submission.]. Follert started shouting “Get the f*** off my dog!”

Two cyclists pulled up and jumped off their bikes. One of them may have grabbed a stick, Follert said. It all happened so fast, he couldn’t be sure.

Together Follert and the cyclists were able to drive off the pit bull. It ran a little way up the road, then stopped and started to come back for more. Follert drove it off again and it finally ran away.

It wasn’t until Follert got Matty home and took his collar off that he realized his dog had been hurt.

Seeing blood on his fur, Follert realized the pit bull had broken the skin. He took Matty to the animal hospital on State Street. Three hundred dollars later, Matty had a newly shaved neck, two antibiotic prescriptions, and a fresh rabies shot.

Is he nervous to take Matty back to West Rock Park?

“I am,” Follert said. For now, he’ll be walking Matty elsewhere.

The pit bull had no tags and no collar, Follert said. It may have simply escaped from somebody’s yard. But after seeing “the way he latched onto the neck,” Follert wondered if it might have been raised to fight.

LAZY PARK OFFICIALS CAN'T BE BOTHERED

Follert said he tried to call West Rock State Park officials and spoke with someone from the Department of Environmental Protection. He contacted New Haven animal control. He said his report about the pit bull was taken seriously, but there’s little to be done.

West Rock Park Supervisor Lori Lindquist, who works for the DEP, said on Wednesday she hasn’t heard any other reports of a pit bull in the park.

“What can they do?” Follert said last week. You can’t find a lone dog in the middle of a big state park.

“God forbid the dog goes after a kid,” Follert said in response.

HERE ARE SOME SUGGESTIONS FOR THE LAZY PARK OFFICIALS

1. Get animal control or wildlife officers to set dog-sized humane traps to catch this vicious dog
2. Step up officers' patrols in this area. Likely the dog lives nearby or is a stray that is now living in this part of the park -- and will attack again.
3. Post warning flyers at all entrances, restroom areas, parking lots notifying people of this vicious pit bull roaming around.

(New Haven Independent - April 15, 2010)