Many of the earliest books, particularly those dating back to the 1900s and before, are now extremely scarce and increasingly expensive. We are republishing these classic works in affordable, high quality, modern editions, using the original text and artwork.
It was interesting to see how the National Park Service has changed over the years. When this book was written rangers were feeding bears and other animals, stocking rivers and lakes with non-native fish, and killing predators like wolves in order to protect the prey animals.
I really don't know how to rate this book. It's a slice of NPS thinking that has thankfully gone by the wayside, but an excellent source of writing of a certain time. A whole chapter entitled "Indians" almost made my head explode. Paternalistic? Superiority, bad stereotypes and gross overgeneralizations? Yes, yes, yes and yes. The animal sections return us to a time where the majority thought handfeeding bears and other animals, hunting predators only (not herd animals) and introducing non-native fish were good ideas...all things the park service must deal with today. Overall, the writing style seems inspired by the age of propaganda. But again, this makes it a prime example of a period of writing. Fascinating? yes. But I won't promise that your head won't explode while reading it. Don't say I didn't warn you.
Written by Horace Albright, an early employee of the newly established US Park Service, this book is an interesting historical look at what was happening in the parks and what the attitudes were. Parts can be cringe worthy to a contemporary reader as when he describes wildlife feeding of buffaloes and bears and in describing Native Americans. But there are some fun references to public issues of the day and development of infrastructure in these landscapes.
Ranger Martindale was giving an informal talk to a group of delegates to a religious convention, gathered about the cone of Old Faithful Geyser. The ranger had just explained how the cone had formed over a long period of years by deposits from the hot water when he was interrupted peremptorily. “Ranger, how long did you say it took to make this cone?” “About forty thousand years,” Martindale told the questioner. “Young man, do you ever read your Bible?” “Yes, sometimes.” “Then you know that the world is not yet forty thousand years old, nor half, not a quarter of that.” “But we have measured the annual deposit on this cone and we can calculate how long it took to build it up as high as it is,” said the ranger. “Well, if you had read your Bible more carefully, you would know that it took the Lord only six days to make the whole world,” asserted the visitor decisively. “If He wanted to, I guess He could make ten Yellowstones in ten minutes!”
The plain and lowly hiker, with his camera in his hand and perspiration on his brow, outnumbers all aforementioned gentry of the trails something like four to one. The hikers are the ordinary folks, sick of the sight of old brick walls, longing for a look at the wilderness, hoofing it along the winding path for no other reason than the fun of it. All the hiker asks is a well-marked trail, leading somewhere at the end of the day. All the service he wants is an extra pair of socks, a big bite of lunch, and a camera with which to shoot the stag that stares pop-eyed from the azaleas. The national park trails just fill the bill for the hiker, for he can leave cares behind and be sure of a meal and a bed at the end of the day for almost as little as it costs to stay at home.