A junior high school group visited Barr Lake last summer. I led the teenagers and their teacher on a walk along the Cottonwood lined shore, through the wildlife preserve. I told them stories about ambush bugs, ancient uses of willows and gumweed, how Buffalo used Barr lake as a wallow to heal their cracked hooves, and about how smart predators can be, as proven by the Yellowstone Grizzly seen circling around some hills to get behind a herd of elk, then running over the hill at full Griz speed to come down on the elk before they could flee.

I told the group about Nighthawks, who are able to make quick turns and tight manuevers through the air to catch insects, which they scoop up in their wide open beaks; how their flight habit resembles dragonflies chasing after insects to scoop them up in their legs held like a basket; and that Nighthawks are not known to be particular smart birds.

Those facts were my lead in to pass on to the young people the story of the bird rehabilitator I met last spring who nursed an injured Nighthawk back to health and then took it to a large lake to set it free. The bird rehabilitator watched the nighthawk fly far away across the lake, til it was only a spot in the distance. Then she watched it turn and fly back, straight towards her. It flew up to her and made three tight loops around her head, inches from her face. It then soared away and did not return.

On the walk back after the program was over I told some teenage boys a hair raising story I probably would not use for the whole group. It is about a 25 year old man who 10 years ago or so made a visit to Yellowstone in his old pickup with his his dog and a friend. They stopped at one of the large hot springs and left the dog tied in the truck while the two young men walked along the boardwalk, peering into the clear pool. The dog broke free and ran to join his master. Thinking the pool was like any lake he had romped in before, the poor dog leaped into the the near boiling water.

The sight of his dog yelping in pain in the tortuous hot water caused the young master to began peeling his coat to do what he could to help. 'Don't go in there!' yelled his friend, but seeing his dog in such pain was to much.

'Like hell I won't' replied the dog's young master.

He dived into the hot pool head first.

. The young man made it out to his dog, grabbed his fur and began his return to shore. About half way back he got a strange look on his face and let the dog go. His friend and a bystander reached out to him and helped him up on the bank. The scaulding water had turned the young man's eyes white. They helped him sit down. When they took off his shoes the skin on his feet came off also. In a very quiet voice the man said 'That was a stupid thing I did.' He died the next day. His dog was never found.

My teenager listeners were quiet as I told them this chilling story. I explained that I found in in a book written about all the deaths in Yellowstone. I said it seems sort of morbid to write a book about deaths, but the author was trying to impress on people how they should be careful, by learning from the experience of others who were not.

. A boy about 13 then challenged me:

'Well, would you give your life for your dog?'

I thought about his question and my dog Bud, and my former dog Wolf, my loyal and true companion when I was a young. It was a tough question to answer.

I asked the boy about his dog. He said his dog was getting older, about twelve years old.

We continued on and talked about different subjects: horses, camping, catching snakes. I listened to their good stories of seeing bears and raccoons and coyotes.

As we approached the nature center I remarked to the boy that it does not seem to be fair that dog's lives are so much shorter than human lives. He agreed: 'No, its not fair.'