The Grizzly Maze: Timothy Treadwell’s Fatal Obsession With Alaskan Bears by Nick Jans (Plume Books 2005)(599.764) demonstrates quite clearly that Tim Treadwell was crazy. It is also the best of the books about Treadwell. Here’s a great and very long excerpt from the book: “ Marc Davis is angry. Furious might be more accurate. I'd been working down a list of phone interviews a few days after Tim Treadwell's death - Park Service officials, Alaska State Troopers, and bear biologists, and getting the sort of polite, helpful, but carefully guarded comments you'd expect them to make to a writer who's busily jotting down every word on the record. Then I come to Davis, a respected biologist, and all I had to do was mention Tim Treadwell to trigger a spontaneous combustion. Actually, it starts out as a slow burn, then escalates into a four-alarm wildfire. I'm reminded of that Three Stooges episode, when every time Moe hears "Niagara Falls" he goes crazy. Anyway, halfway through the call, there's this guy practically leaping through the phone line; I can imagine a clenched jaw, spittle flying, and index finger jabbing the air.
First off, I manage to make the error of framing a question that uses the words Tim Treadwell and bear expert in conjunction.
'Expert?' Davis sputters. "Oh please...well, whatever. Give me a break. Call him that if you want to." That sets the tone, and it doesn't take too much persuasion to keep Davis talking. He has a personal stake in this--- bears are his life. Davis begins his litany, speaking in precisely worded sentences that cut like a hot razor. "For starters, what Tim Treadwell did was patently illegal. His mission was absolutely at odds with the National Park Service's stated goal of preserving and protecting wildlife...The question to ask is, how do we justify his ignoring rules?' Davis points out that regulations for Katmai stipulate viewing distances of no less than fifty yards for brown bears, and at least a hundred yards for a 'family group' - a female with cubs. Both Treadwell's personal videos and professional productions featuring him document distances far closer than the minimum half a football field. Then there was that business about the fox that routinely slept in his tent. "'The videos," Davis fumes, "are all of outrageous behavior...completely unethical from a scientific point of view...a bunch of cheap theatrics, the most absurd, cockamamie crap." As Davis pauses for breath, I allow that he's being pretty hard on Treadwell. "What do you mean I'm hard on him?...Why are we trying to water this down? I don't want to disrespect dead people, but what he was doing was illegal and absolutely selfish," he says, and reminds me that all the bears Treadwell named and followed around, including the two bears that were killed following his death, were wildlife belonging to the American people that Treadwell basically hijacked to satisfy his own agenda. "We have no right," intones Davis, "to impose our stupid little personal mission on the universe."
I offer that with all that field time concentrated in just a few areas, and all that face time with bears, more than some field biologists might amass in twenty years, Treadwell must have produced something of value to the scientific community. My comment elicits another exasperated snort. "You show me the science...There was no science to him...From where I stand as a biologist, he made a mockery of the word." Davis points out that Treadwell never once submitted material or a paper for peer review---an essential component of scientific inquiry. The one study proposal Treadwell submitted to the Park Service was rejected, Davis says, due to vague objectives and virtually nonexistent design. At the one professional bear conference Treadwell attended, Davis, who was also there, states, "He just sat there. He did not take part in the debate- refused, in fact, to debate anything. He had nothing at all to offer except his touchy-feely Beanie Baby approach...That might work with fifth graders, but you can't advance a good science agenda on public relations and hyperbole."
Davis goes on to slam-dance Treadwell's get-close field methodology. "He systematically failed to acknowledge basic biological principles, including that of generalized habituation. Bears get used to him, they're likely to approach other people, maybe far less experienced, and get in trouble when those people freak out and react inappropriately. Katmai is a national park, and Treadwell hung around areas that see a fair to heavy amount of use. In light of that fact, his behavior was especially irresponsible." Davis also points out that by such close association with the objects of his supposed study, Treadwell was violating a prime biological directive - altering the behavior of his subjects, therefore tainting any results and rendering them useless to researchers. Not to mention permanently altering the behavior of entire populations of bears.
Shifting to a different tack, I observe that, if not an expert in scientific terms, Treadwell must have been a pretty astute student of bear behavior to have lasted as long as he did among the bears of Katmai. This just serves to set Davis off again. This time he's less like a fire than a human bomb.
"You must be joking! He was an absolute disaster with bears. You've been to Katmai - you've seen it yourself. Those bears are so tolerant, so laid back, you could have a day care center out there. No one's ever been killed in Katmai, not ever. I don't know how he managed, but he finally goaded a bear into it...Did Tim Treadwell teach me anything about bears? Year, it was an incredible testament to their patience. Look, there are only two reasons, from a mature bear's point of view, why any creature would approach it closely - to mate with it or displace it. That's the message he was constantly sending bears: I want to hump you or I want to chase you off."
Everyone says he was a nice guy, I say, It's my final card, but by now I'm braced for the retort. "Nice?" Davis sputters. "Nice? Everybody's nice. That's not the point here. The measure of a person isn't how nice they are-it's what they actually do in the world. A bank robber might be pleasant and funny if you meet him on the street."
Then abruptly, Marc Davis is quiet. It seems his quarter has run out. "Look," he says, "I apologize for all this venting. I'm sorry to dump all this on you. This incident has been very, very frustrating from a professional standpoint. It's done tremendous damage to our mission of promoting brown bear conservation and education. There's lots of anger among professionals...Still, I wouldn't ever say Treadwell deserved what happened to him. Nobody I know wished ill on those two. It's a tragedy for bears and humans alike. The sad part is, these deaths were predictable and totally preventable," Davis sighs. "We can go right down the list of errors he made. It didn't have to happen. He was warned and warned and warned and warned. Yet he negated, defied, and ignored all common sense."
For a time, Davis and I wander on different subjects chatting about things I can't remember. After the force and emotion of our conversation, the mad scribbling on my part, it's pleasant and relaxed. I tell him sincerely that I respect his honesty and forthright attitude, when so many seem to be guarding their words. We circle back to the subject at hand, and though his voice is lower, Davis's anger and the force of his conviction carry through.
"The hypocrisy here is what really gripes a lot of us...The internal inconsistencies in his life's stated mission makes you wonder, really, if Treadwell was mentally well. Protect bears by putting them at risk. Study them by crowding. Export widely to the world a book and endless streams of videotape that basically says if you act like I do, then you, too, can be close to bears, which influences people to put bears and themselves at risk. Tell thousands and thousands of kids--- how many---forty thousand or fifty---that bears are huggable and lovable, then get yourself, your girlfriend, and two bears killed and plastered all over the news. What are those kids supposed to think? I just don't get it," Davis says, and I can sense his bitter shrug from five hundred miles away. "Tell me, what kind of legacy is that?" The Grizzly Maze, quoting biologist Mark Davis, pp. 160-163. It's a great book! My rating: 7.5/10, finished 7/27/11. I purchased a HB copy in like-new condition from McKay's Books 1/10/20 for $1.50. HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH