THE BEAST OF OUR TIME FILM UPDATE: Jeff Bridges to narrate ‘The Beast of Our Time’

Grizzly Bear on Swan Lake Flats in Yellowstone - photo Brad Orsted

We are so honored, and blessed to have long-time Montana resident and friend to the grizzly bear, Jeff Bridges, narrating our film, “The Beast of Our Time.” Our film addresses the immediate concerns for not only grizzly bears, but the human race too. Jeff has graciously offered to help us tell our tale, and we couldn’t be more excited!

Jeff Bridges to narrate "Beast of Our Time"

Filming for “The Beast of Our Time” may have wrapped, but the editing team is now hard at work putting the pieces together for a rough assembly. Here’s a few images from our time filming last fall. 

Filming with Doug Peacock and Terry Tempest Williams.

Ethan filming with Malou and Hannibal Anderson in Tom Miner Basin.

Maaike and Erik enjoying their work.

Getting good audio of Doug Peacock and Lance Craighead is no simple task! Good job Cam!

In between shoots, I can't help but make a new friend.

We are so blessed to have one of our favorite authors, Rick Bass, for the film.

Any shoot is nerve-wracking for the experienced directors/producers - especially when you’re working with talent. Th last thing you want is for your interviewee to sit fidgeting, and waiting while the crew looks for the right lens. Any number of issues from unexpected weather, to equipment failure seem to plague on location shooting. I don’t think I’ve ever been on a shoot that some snafu didn’t arise – until this one. 

The weather not only cooperated, but lent itself to the cinematography, during our three days filming interviews. Our crew was super tight, and took the project very seriously. They were ready to march across any creek crossing, or into the oncoming storm, at a moment’s notice to get the shots we needed. Our cast, of course, was a pleasure to work with as well. They waited, and followed us wherever we directed, and made a few wet boots creek crossings themselves. 

At one point, while filming Doug and Terry having a breakfast conversation at Doug’s kitchen table, I looked around the room and nearly crew member had a tear in their eye while trying to do their job. It was incredibly moving, and I can’t wait to see how it dovetails into the film. 

Doug Peacock and Terry Tempest Williams

As Maaike, my co-producer/director, and I sat reflecting on a amazing three days of shooting, we heard an owl screech at dusk and looked up to find this! We took it as a good omen, as the owl flew away, that our film was in the hands of the spirits now.

Great -horned owl on a cross at sunset

That’s all for now. Our editing team is hard at work with our team in Livingston, MT. and one in L.A. - yet working seamlessly together. Stay tuned for more updates as we move towards a final cut of this monumental film about grizzly bears and love. We hope to have this film ready for release very soon! Stay Tuned!

TRAILER COMING SOON!

Thank you for all the support,

Brad and Crew

926f Lamar Canyon alpha female

November 24th 2020

Alpha female 926F of the Lamar Canyon pack.

926f before she was collared by NPS

Right after I moved to Yellowstone, she was known as the Lamar yearling, but even then the alpha blood ran strong in her. She showed leadership qualities, and an immediate dominance over her sisters. She would eventually be collared and given the number, 926, and be the glue that held the fleeting bits of a once strong pack, the Lamar Canyon, together, after their alpha, the '06 female (832f) was shot outside of the park. Tragically, on this date in 2018, wolf 926F met the same fate as her mother, as history sardonically repeated itself.

926 dominating over her sister, Middle Grey.

The last time I saw 926f, I was filming her in winter for ARTE (The Return of the Wolves), across from Hitching Post in Yellowstone. I had been standing in the frozen parking lot, watching the Golden eagles, ravens and magpies feed on a frozen bull elk carcass the Lamar's had killed a few days prior. The small bull elk was at the base of a snowy hill heading up to a known rendezvous spot, and I was all alone with the limited daylight disappearing quickly. I considered packing up my gear and calling it a day.

Then, 926f seemed to appear at the top of the hill in the flat grey light. She stood there, like her mother had so many times, surveying the valley below, the carcass, and me. After deciding either I was no threat, or she was so hungry it didn't matter, she trotted down the hill and began eating. I was mesmerized, and filmed the entire scene in disbelief, as she chased off magpies and tried to gnaw on scraps, to put a little meat in her belly for the cold night.

The last time I saw 926f

Eventually, the juice wasn't worth the squeeze, and 926 seemed to give up on the carcass. She picked her way back up the hill like her ancestors had taught her, and disappeared into the conifer forest. I gratefully packed my gear with a headlamp, knowing I had just shared a very special moment with a very special animal, and my producers would be pleased with the footage. Little did I know it was the last time I would see 926f.

926f when she was known as, The Lamar yearling

I feel like there should be a page on my website, "In Memoriam", devoted to the animals I've been blessed to share the landscape with, who have met their wild demise at the cruel hand of man. But like the rest, I've learned to think of 926, and feel the breeze coming up Cache Creek, or smell the sage in the Lamar Valley after a heavy June rain; no matter where I am. That is the eternal gift of the wild, for those of us curious enough to put ourselves out there again and again, no matter how many times we, or they, get hurt. They represent the whiff of wild on the wind that excites the alpha blood in us all. And for this, I am eternally grateful.

926f howling for her pack

For Everything Wild ~ Brad

Orphaned Grizzly Cubs of Tom Miner Update

Ophans Update:

On March 12th, 2019 I learned quite definitively our greatest fears for the orphaned grizzly bear cubs of Tom Miner Basin, which is situated just north of Yellowstone Park, had become a gruesome reality. The cubs had individually been euthanized by MFWP after leaving the relative safety of the Tom Miner Basin and wandering into Paradise Valley. Both cubs were determined to be females who would have been at breeding age this year. Our hearts broke with sadness and a repressed rage surfaced knowing very little had been done by the state to ensure the safety of both grizzly bears and humans alike in this case. The state made examples of any grizzly bear with the audacity to search out new and easy food sources in lieu of creating a climate of responsibility and tolerance.

ORPHANED GRIZZLY BEAR CUBS IN TOM MINER

On the USGS website, https://www.usgs.gov/data-tools/2018-known-and-probablegrizzly-bear-mortalities-greater-yellowstone-ecosystem, the official cause of their deaths is listed as, “known, human caused.” Although USGS may not have intended a double-entendre, a truer message may never have been uttered by them. It goes on to say, “management removal for frequenting residences, habituated behavior and public safety concerns.” When the orphaned cubs hit an area not bear-proofed even though it’s in the heart of grizzly country, they were in full hyperphagia and found a boon of available food sources/rewards.

DNA DETERMINED

It is my belief, after the caraway crop was exhausted in the Tom Miner Basin, the ever inquisitive little cubs began venturing out in search of another food source. The basin had yielded it’s easiest crop for two little grizzly bears cubs on their own and they were now pinned between big, aggressive bears protecting gut piles, elk hunters around every corner in the basin and terra x down in the valley. They took the path of least resistance. When they hit the valley they found road-killed deer, residences and businesses without bear proof garbage containers, unattended fruit orchards, gardens still plump with root vegetables and a community ill-prepared for their arrival. It’s my understanding one of the cubs was captured, collared and released back up into the Tom Miner Basin only to naturally find her way back to the valley (food) and her sibling. When enough people complained, some threatening to kill the cubs themselves, MFWP buckled to the pressure and killed one of the females on 10/04/2018 and the other female on 10/16/2018. The state absolved itself of any potential conflicts, responsibility or further infuriating phone calls to their offices with the laziest and banal of all solutions; death.

The only mistakes the bears made were due to ignorance having been orphaned when they were less than a year old. Avoiding humans at all costs, where to find supplemental food sources especially during hyperphagia and how to make yourself scarce when necessary are all lessons they would have learned from their mother in those first few formative years for grizzlies. They were quite literally pinned between a rock and a hard place. Leaving the basin which had become increasingly dangerous with easy food mostly exhausted was their only option for survival. They could have had no idea the reward and consequences the valley would hold for them.

The mistakes the community made were somewhat formed out of that same naiveté. Most communities bordering Yellowstone are used to grizzlies moving through especially in the fall but with no food rewards the bears usually keep moving as motivated by their desire for calories. Bear proof garbage containers are encouraged and even provided. Fruit left on trees or on the ground, sloppy garbage areas, bird feeders and vegetables left in unprotected gardens are highly and publicly discouraged in these communities and as a result rarely have grizzly bears hanging around. Perhaps people in the valley just weren’t prepared for grizzlies in the neighborhood. Especially two big cubs who didn’t seem to have a natural fear of humans and were feeding on everything absentmindedly left out by its residents in the cub’s new discovery zone. I fault not the residents of the valley in their ill-preparedness nor the orphaned cubs for doing what comes naturally just weeks before hibernation.

The lamentable fate of the orphans lies squarely on MFWP and federal “authorities” although I’m not sure what they are an authority on besides one way tickets. These two orphans had exhibited absolutely no aggressive behavior towards humans even though they had ample opportunity and cause. They were only taking advantage of new-found food sources when every fiber of their DNA is driving them to eat, eat, eat. With only a few weeks until hibernation, a modicum of education and tolerance fostered by FWP could have kept the residents informed, empowered and safe while the bears looked elsewhere for their much needed food. Even as the harshest of punishments, these two orphans who have had to rely on each other their most of their lives would have potentially made great ambassador bears to help bridge the genetic isolation. If you can catch them and collar them why not move them to the Crazy Mountains, The Cabinets or the Yaak Valley and monitor them in lieu of indolent and slothful dispatch? Give them a chance to live or die free instead of a terrified and gutless death in a culvert trap. There’s a myriad of advocacy groups that would have gladly pitched in financially and physically to help relocate these two orphaned cubs and give them a fighting chance but sadly to my knowledge no effort was made.

Doug Peacock once told me to never name wild animals as it deprives them of their wildness. So in the 3 years of following these grizzly bear cubs I never once gave them a nickname or pet name as I spent dozens of weeks and hours observing, filming and photographing them. They were only ever referred to as “The Orphans.” Doug’s advice was never far away as I heard people over the years applying names to them that should only be reserved for strippers or breakfast cereals. Now it seems state and federal agencies have taken the liberty of naming the orphans themselves. They now will forever be know as “grizzly bear 42 and grizzly bear 44, sub-adult females” on the USGS list of known and probable grizzly bear mortality for 2018 depriving them of their wildness once and for all while we watched on in horror.

FEMALE ORPHANED GRIZZLY BEAR CUB

I will not grieve the fate of these two miracles we had the joy and pleasure of watching grow up anymore. I have lamented their loss and that time has passed. Their destiny was unfortunately not unique to them nor any other grizzly bear that meets with intolerance in its FEMALE ORPHANED GRIZZLY BEAR CUB natural search for food and survival in an ever encroaching world. The untimely demise of these two grizzly bears while tragic has only galvanized our efforts to honor them the best way we know how - tell their story - because where the grizzly bear roams a healthy ecosystem exist for all.

Our mission is to promote education, tolerance and compassion for grizzly bears while we search for answers and solutions to ensure generations to come will have the ability to walk on sacred ground; where the grizzly bears roam.

Brad Orsted

Horsefeathers Photography

THE LAST PHOTO I EVER TOOK OF ONE OF THE ORPHANS

A Close Encounter

“What the hell is going on?” I asked myself audibly. My mind stumbled as I picked up the pace, already out of breath and sweating but staring down at fresh mountain lion tracks in my set of tracks I’d laid down less than an hour ago. In open areas where the snow was good I could see the then fresh lion tracks I’d originally found an hour ago and my boot tracks following them but now there was another set of lion tracks in the mix and in some places directly in my boot prints. I couldn’t comprehend what I was looking at as I sped along, stumbling across a steep canyon game trail in the northern Rockies of Montana.

A December storm had left just enough fresh snow to get out and track and I was stoked to finally be home tracking my own back yard again. I had set some camera traps out a few days before so I was hoping to see if any interesting critters had walked by them. Of course somewhere in the back of my mind I’d hoped to cut fresh cat tracks but I kept pushing the thought out in fear of jinxing myself. The season was just starting and this was a recon trip just to hopefully glean where the prey species were and if I’m lucky cut an old, crusty cat track. It felt good to be loading up my Mystery Ranch pack and tightening up the high-ankle boots in preparation for what would hopefully be a successful mountain lion season. For me, a successful season is working day after day in the sometimes (most times) bitter cold hiking, tracking, obsessing, waking up 2 or 3 times a night when it’s snowing to go check for tracks in subzero temps with a headlamp all in hopes of just catching a fleeting glimpse of this wildly fascinating mountain ghost. If there’s any chance to tuck in and watch a lion that’s a remarkable experience and to photograph it; sublime. Winter is the only time us flat-footed waffle stompers have much of a chance to track a cat. Even the elusive mountain lion hasn’t figured out a way to hide all of his tracks in the snow but I’m telling you sometimes it seems they try.

Once I was completely layered and suited up with pack, pole, binoculars, bear spray, gaiters and knife I lit a bundle of sage from Crow Agency, MT. I offered it to the 4 directions, to my grandfather above and mother Earth, enveloping myself in its powerful smoke and “rubbing” it around my body like my Crow friends had taught me. This was kind of an afterthought and something I had never done before setting out on an expedition but in this country, alone and in the worsening conditions it seemed like a reasonable thing to do. Give thanks and ask for guidance; stay humble.

So with the smell of burning sage around me I set out, eventually dropping into a steep and densely wooded gulch leading to a creek and in the direction of my first camera trap. Within an hour I had cut fresh lion tracks coming off a hill and intersecting my path. I followed the tracks to the frozen creek where the lion turned and started walking downstream. These tracks were fresh, maybe that morning at the latest. Maybe coming off a kill and heading to bed for the day in the pre-dawn light. Now the age old question…forward track or back track? Since these seemed fresh I decided to follow them forward and see if he walked by my camera. The tracks had that round-toed look of a male but weren’t very big. I guessed a young male had come through and was making his way toward more open country while all the time hunting along the creek bottom.

When I got to my camera the lion had actually stepped right over it! The tracks told the story. If there hadn’t been snow I would never have known this stealthy strider was even in the vicinity. At least I knew my camera was in a good place so I re-armed it and continued following the tracks as the snow and wind picked up.

Following the tracks away from the creek bottom and up a small hill I stopped to really examine one of the tracks. Everything was perfect in this track. The ridges sharp and no new snow that was now falling had even accumulated in the depressions. These were super fresh. I was minutes behind a mountain lion and starting to feel a little edgy. It was then I decided to go back and retrieve my camera trap while I give this scenario a chance to breath. I had seen several lions in the past. Sometimes for long periods tucked into a hillside or from the comfort of a camera truck but this was different. I was alone and close with inclement weather moving in.

“Was I pushing my luck? I mean cats don’t just jump on people’s backs, disembowel them, dine on them then shit them out later right? ”

That’s the message I had always adhered to and even preached but in this woody gulch with the wind swirling around how much was I willing to bet on that?

In lieu of fighting my way back through the dense underbrush of the ravine I opted to climb out and take the high line back to my camera where I could drop back in and reassess my situation. The whole hike back I was in a bit of a daze. What had I just stumbled upon? Was I fooling myself that I was ever close to that lion? Did I just panic and cost myself an opportunity to see another lion in the wild? I didn’t even bring a dslr or video camera, only my iPhone as I was just going to check my trail camera. I went back to where the lion tracks came down the hill and followed them back to where I had first intersected with them. I followed my tracks and the lion tracks back to my trail camera along the creek. Stuffing the trail camera and cable lock into my pack I decided this opportunity was too good to pass up. I quickly started to move through the juniper and cedar, ripping a hole in my coat trying to make up for the ground I had lost. I was second guessing myself for coming back. Get back to where I had bailed off the tracks as fast as possible was all I could think while I plodded along following my recent tracks. When I got close to where I had bailed off the trail I saw what looked like a lion track in my track from before. I kept moving with purpose and didn’t see another track as the trail lead under some big Douglas fir trees where no snow had made it to the ground. Coming out into a clearing I saw plain as day fresh lion tracks in the new snow over my tracks.

“What the hell is going on?” I asked myself audibly. Had I inadvertently out flanked a mountain lion? Did this lion circle back and had begun tracking me? I pulled out my iPhone to document the situation in hopes of putting the pieces together. My mental map did not immediately line up with what was unfolding in front of me. I snapped some pictures then realized with an entire body shiver that once again this cat was close and this time I’m not sure he’s in front of me anymore and worse yet I’m crouched over trying to take pics with a phone! I put the phone away and stood silently. It was then I noticed the Clark’s nutcracker were screeching somewhere ahead of me. Other birds I couldn’t identify were also alarm calling. Of course! They had been doing this in the same area before but I was so caught up in my own conundrum I neglected to notice their alarms weren’t for me but were ahead of me. This time I proceeded a little more cautiously and noticed at the top of a rise the lion had mimicked my stride as he too slowed to peer over the other side. I pulled my phone back out to video this phenomena as the Clark’s squawked away somewhere in front of me. I walked filming the cat tracks in my tracks almost stride for stride then stopped the video to stay in tune with my surroundings.

I took a few more strides then peered over into the next gulley…

To my amazement a mountain lion stood facing away from me in a thicket not 50 feet away. He was tan with rusty overtones and very long and lean. He looked over his shoulder at me then jumped out of the thicket and very casually but very intentionally moved out of the gully and disappeared over the next hill a hundred feet away. The lion moved with a mercurial ease as if in some timber dance. He was a tawny, liquid rope while I stood there gape-jawed with the density of space. He never looked back and the last I saw of him was the tip of his tail as it swooshed and disappeared with it’s owner over the rise. It was then I realized I had a camera in my hand ready to go and could have captured mountain lion footage with a phone! This would be a wildlife filmmakers crowning achievement - hell that would have been anybody’s tour de force - mountain lion iPhone video! But just as the regret from not documenting the encounter was starting to set in, the magic of the moment took over. There was a mirthful equanimity as I stood there hearing the birds following the cat - heckling him the whole way. I think I even laughed out loud imagining the seen. Closing my eyes, I tried to commit to memory that sound of the Clark’s and now magpies announcing to everyone who knows the lingo a mountain lion is coming. I was thankful the instinct to film had been blotted out by the complete and utter awe of the experience. That’s when you know you’re getting into the good stuff. When just being in the moment outweighs the urge to capture everything. I’m not really sure my arms were actually working at that moment anyway.

I wasn’t anxious about being in the presence of the lion anymore but I knew better than to pursue. The entire event was incredibly brief but for those few seconds we were the only two sentient beings in the universe. I had been given a gift of the wildest kind and it was time to give this amazing predator his space which was my gift in return. There was an intensity in his glance that sent a clear message if I had any questions about the unspoken protocol here. The details of the experience weren’t important anymore as I hiked home. It was hard to believe we both co-existed in that wild place. That I was part of nature too. There was a sense of belonging, an excitability like someone had just whispered a juicy secret into my good ear and I was in the catbird seat. I knew the lion and I had separate journeys from here but this chance encounter will stay with me forever. I could make that same walk again everyday for the rest of my life and probably never have that happen again but maybe someday on some wind-carved, jagged, gnarly canyon trail our paths would cross again. Let’s hope so.