Category:

Grant Cooper, known as Coop in Grand Teton National Park circles, stepped into park headquarters with a pretty strong suspicion as to why he’d been summoned. His boss wanted to chat. Coop couldn’t help but find it ironic—District Ranger Tim Rivers, a man not known for his chatty nature, calling him in for a conversation. Then again, Coop wasn’t much of a talker either, and that’s one reason they got along so well. 

Coop lived all year for summer months in the mountains. The rest of the year, he traded his seasonal ranger hat for the role of a high school biology teacher at a private high school in Salt Lake City, attempting to cram knowledge into the minds of bored teenagers until he ran out of words and patience by May, when the school year ended. Summers, however, were his escape, a time to protect grizzly and black bears and recharge his soul. Bears, especially, held a special place in his heart.

But this summer season, which kicked off recently, had started out on a bad foot. It was a record year for snowfall, with the park entirely socked in. In a regular year, most of the snow was gone by July and August, the heaviest tourist season. But this wasn’t a regular year. It was mid-May, and there was still an enormous amount of snow and ice to melt from the mountains, creating dangerous conditions for inexperienced hikers—which, in Coop’s eyes, were most of them.

A series of encounters with clueless tourists had left Coop frustrated much earlier in the season than usual. German backpackers disrupted a herd of elk for selfies, a day packer attempted to feed a granola bar to a bear cub, claiming he was “connecting with nature,” and the grand finale—a camper had no clue how to put his borrowed-from-his-neighbor tent together. That was the clincher for Coop. It was a classic tip-off to rangers. When campers had no idea how to erect tents, they had no business hiking in the backcountry.

At that point, Coop’s short fuse had heated to the point that these misguided campers complained to park management, which led to this moment in Tim Rivers’s small office in the park’s headquarters.

Tim sat across from Coop in his perfectly pressed uniform, with a badge gleaming on his chest. On a corner of the desk sat his wide-brimmed hat. He was a quintessential parkie and had been assigned to numerous parks, all over the country. Coop met Tim a few years ago, when he’d given a talk at Coop’s high school about a career in the National Park Service. Afterward, Coop introduced himself, explaining that he had spent every summer of his life backpacking in the national parks. It was the main reason he had chosen teaching as a profession. Like everything in life, Coop took teaching seriously, he gave it everything he had, but he wanted his summers free for the wilderness.

Tim convinced Coop to work as a seasonal Jenny Lake Ranger at Grand Teton National Park, sealing the deal when he described the work of a backcountry ranger. Remote. Isolated. “You’re already doing it,” Tim had said. “You’re a seasonal vagabond. Why not earn money and do a little good for the world while you’re at it?” 

So, for the last two summers, that’s exactly what Coop ended up doing. Being a seasonal Jenny Lake Ranger was just the right fit for him, kind of like teaching but with even more passion poured into it. He was all in—maybe even more than that. The gig just clicked for him; his hair got all wild, shaving felt optional, and he took on a rugged, work-hardened look. It was like he turned into the opposite of Mr. Cooper, the biology teacher at the high school who rocked a tie every day. For him, being a seasonal ranger was like hitting the jackpot—a chance to hang out with nature all summer, far from the hustle and bustle of regular life. Far away from entitled teenagers, far away from most human beings. A certain female named Emma, in particular. The Emma Dilemma, he called it.

It had been a perfect job until now.

Sitting in Tim’s office, Coop wondered if this was the way his students might feel when summoned to the principal’s office. Defensive. Indignant. Misunderstood. “Tim, I was only doing my job. Those tourists were deliberately ignoring rules of the park. Rules that are posted everywhere.”

“I don’t disagree with you, but the park service is under fire to reexamine its training regarding insensitivity.”

Coop slapped his palm against his chest. “Tim, how is it insensitive when I’m trying to stop some tourist from getting way too cozy with a wild animal she thinks is just the cutest thing’?” 

Trying unsuccessfully to swallow a smile, Tim paused and dropped his chin. When he lifted his head, he was back to business. “Coop, you know as well as I do that the official policy of the NPS is to not make fun of tourists.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Coop knew.

“Let me ask you a serious question.” Tim leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. “What concerns you more? The people or the animals?”