Two naturalists spent the bulk of their lives studying bears in the Soviet Union. One was from Czechoslovakia and the other from Poland. When the USSR fell in December 1991 they were both old men, but they were excited about the prospect of finally getting the chance to study grizzlies in America. That following Spring they made arrangements to travel to Yellowstone to finally see the grizzlies.
When they arrived and informed the park rangers of their plan the rangers were alarmed, telling the scientists, "You can't go now. It's mating season, and the bears are very aggressive." But the former Soviets were insistent. "Please," they said, "We must go. We've waited our whole lives. We may never get another chance." Realizing the men couldn't be dissuaded, the rangers gave them a radio with instructions to report in with their location every day. The scientists set out, and for several days they reported dutifully that all was well.
On the third day, though, they failed to report in. Anxiously, the rangers sent out a search party to the scientists' last known location.
Unfortunately, the rangers discovered a bloody mess when they found the men's camp, and the tracks of two bears, a male and a female, leading off into the woods.
The rangers followed the tracks until suddenly they came upon the female grizzly, her muzzle still crimson with blood. They shot her and conducted an autopsy on the spot, sadly finding the remains of the Polish scientist inside her stomach.
"You know what this means, don't you?" said one ranger to the other. "Yes," the other replied, "The Czech is in the male."
Warm spring day, first day the zoo is open for the season, families and couples come, place is jam packed and bustling with people.
I return from using the restroom and my Dad says, "Boy, it's like a zoo in here!"
