Goodbye, 399: Jackson Hole, global admirers, send off the world’s most famous grizzly

MOOSE—Julia Nell was driving with Tom Mangelsen last week when news broke that tragedy had befallen Grizzly 399 in the Snake River Canyon. 

She asked him to pull over. A wildlife photographer who’d been documenting the storied grizzly bear for decades, Mangelsen knew what happened before she said it. Grizzly 399 was dead.   

That night, Nell heard the depth of Mangelsen’s grief. His crying was “animalistic.” 

“I’ve never heard anyone cry or wail the way that he did,” said Nell, whose own voice quivered. “It went on for a long time.” 

Nell recounted the memory to a few dozen mutual friends who’d gathered at Mangelsen’s house on Saturday to celebrate the record-breaking grizzly sow’s life. She articulated why the 28-year-old grizzly bear meant so much to the 78-year-old photographer, both longtime residents of Jackson Hole. 

“Tom spent 150 days of the year [for 18 years] following this bear,” Nell said. “I think it’s the longest relationship he’s ever had with a woman.” 

Everyone laughed. But given the gathering’s purpose, there were good odds that they, too, felt great pangs of sadness when they learned of the vehicle accident that killed the grizzly bear made famous by her choice of habitat: the side of the road in Grand Teton National Park.    

In the aftermath of 399’s death, heartfelt remembrances of a grizzly bear flooded social media feeds from around the globe. Online and face-to-face, Grizzly 399’s avid fans and occasional observers paid homage to an intelligent ambassador of her species who was able to deftly navigate many millions of crowded, gawking tourists while raising 18 cubs along the way. By one account, businesses in Jackson Hole temporarily ground to a halt as employees processed the news. People grieved privately, and in public. 

‘Forever grateful’

Tyler Brasington, a bear management ranger for Grand Teton National Park, bid 399 farewell in a note his employer propagated that concluded he was “forever grateful” for the chance to have worked alongside the grizzly bear. 

“I often explain to people it’s not only about who she is — it’s about what she’s taught us about her species, and about ourselves,” Brasington wrote. “Grizzly 399 embodied resilience, adaptability, and tolerance throughout her life. She taught me the importance of resilience — how to bounce back quickly in times of hardship or struggle.” 

Word of Grizzly 399’s death quickly went viral, crossing oceans. Headlines exploded in the Guardian, New York Times, Washington Post, National Geographic, USA Today and in the bruin’s hometown paper, the Jackson Hole Daily. 

Wildlife activist and Jackson resident Ann Smith was in California when she received word of 399’s demise. After following the grizzly sow for two straight decades — she likened the bear-watching outings to a “treasure hunt” — she was immediately devastated and remained so nearly a week later. 

“It’s probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to deal with in my life, and I’m 83 years old,” Smith told WyoFile on Monday. “She was almost like a part of my family. Someone told me, ‘It’s because you didn’t have grandchildren.’ I said, ‘That could be.’”

Smith’s daily correspondence with friends let her know she’s not alone in taking the loss of a grizzly bear with difficulty. 

“I’m still getting messages from friends who’ve said, ‘I just can’t stop thinking about her, I can’t stop crying,’” Smith said. One Jackson friend messaged her to say that her “entire office stopped working” and that “nobody could do anything.” 

Paralyzing grief

For avid grizzly watchers and photographers, Grizzly 399’s death hit especially hard because of the frequency, proximity and volume of encounters — many had shared 399’s presence hundreds and hundreds of times. They felt they knew her, even sharing a kinship that transcended species. Mangelsen believed that the grizzly bear was often drawn to where he was parked amidst the sometimes unmitigated chaos of a roadside “bear jam.” 

“I think she recognized my smell,” he said. “She would cross in front of my car more often than others. I think she felt safe when she smelled our vehicles. That may be just speculation.” 

The more general public, especially in Jackson, also reacted with emotion to an individual animal dying in what authorities have described as a faultless accident. That’s partly explained by the many twists and turns of the matriarch grizzly’s life, which has been routinely documented in news and over social media — she’s even the subject of several books. 

Thought to have been born in the middle of the Clinton administration in 1996, Grizzly 399 spent her first decade of life as just one more anonymous bruin. In 2006, however, she took to raising her second litter of cubs in view of the road system in the northern portion of Teton Park. Included in that litter was Grizzly 610 — 399’s now 18-year-old daughter, another road-tolerant sow who almost lost her own life in a vehicle collision in fall 2023.  

Grizzly 399 repeated the cub-rearing pattern every third spring over the next 18 years. Without failure, she reproduced and reemerged with a new litter.

Yet, her life wasn’t always smooth. 

A tough, but successful life

In 2007, with three yearlings at her side, the grizzly mauled a Lander man whose morning jog from Jackson Lake Lodge fatefully brought him by a freshly killed elk carcass. The Jackson Hole News&Guide’s report about the incident dubbed the then 11-year-old grizzly bear a “minor celebrity.” Times changed, and Grizzly 399’s celebrity status grew dramatically as she aged. Smith joked that she “should have written Harrison [Ford]” just to let the movie star know he was no longer Jackson Hole’s best-known resident. 

Grizzly 399’s cubs were hit and killed on park roads, in 2012 and again in 2016. Near the tail end of her life, the civilization-tolerant sow took to periodically leaving Teton Park and cub-rearing — sometimes for weeks at a time — in the southern, developed portion of Jackson Hole. 

During those outings, her diet took a concerning turn as she took advantage of human-related food on the landscape, like livestock feed and an apiarist’s colony. Grizzly 399 was purposefully fed, too — there was an investigation, but no prosecution — yet the often-true adage “a fed bear is a dead bear” didn’t ring true for Grizzly 399. 

That’s largely because state and federal wildlife managers gave her special treatment in recognition of her global fame. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service’s grizzly recovery coordinator, Hilary Cooley, even dispatched a special unit to keep watch over and avert conflicts with the beloved, embattled bruin during at least one extended foray into the more developed corners of Teton County. Those same protections were not extended to her cubs, who ran into trouble and were killed after dispersing from their famous mother. 

Grizzly 399 broke up the harder times with feats that inspired awe. The day Grand Teton National Park reopened after an extended COVID-19 closure in 2020, she emerged from the den at age 24 with four cubs — an exceptional rarity (2% of litters).   

Three years later, at 27, she came out with a single cub. Remarkably, that made her the oldest monitored grizzly in the history of the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem to bear a litter — a literal record-setter.  

All the while, the grizzly’s faithful fan club documented her every move, tracking and photographing the bear from the day she emerged until she trekked for the den. The longevity and successful cub rearing on a landscape thick with tourists, bear-watchers and hazards in every direction was not dumb luck. 

Interagency Grizzly Bear Study Team leader Frank van Manen credited 399 for her smarts.

“One of my employees who captured her during several research captures described her as ‘intelligent, graceful and patient,’” van Manen told WyoFile. “That captured her characteristics pretty well. That’s the reason why she was able to stay out of trouble most of the time.” 

Sent off 

At the weekend gathering at Mangelsen’s house, friends and fellow grizzly photographers and enthusiasts shared grizzly-watching memories. Charlie Craighead lamented how his pioneering grizzly biologist father, Frank Craighead, never got to experience Ursus arctos horribilis’ return to Jackson Hole, let alone study a bear like Grizzly 399.

“They were in Yellowstone, they were in the Teton wilderness — but not down here,” Craighead said. “And now we’ve had them in the yard at dad’s house up at Moose.”  

Jackson Hole resident Sue Cedarholm reflected on the endless hours wildlife photographers like herself spent waiting on the side of the road, bonded together by Grizzly 399.

“We’re so lucky we had all the time we had with her,” said Cedarholm, who wore a 399 t-shirt. “Some of my dearest friends are people who I met on the side of the road. Actually my partner, who I now live with, I met on the side of the road. It’s been an amazing experience.” 

In life and death, Grizzly 399 catalyzed activism. 

In 2018, when the Wyoming Game and Fish Department was making preparations for its first grizzly hunting season since the 1970s, the esteemed sow’s existence prompted the state to propose a no-hunting buffer lining the east boundary of Grand Teton National Park. Not satisfied, passionate pro-grizzly activists launched the “Shoot ‘em with a camera” campaign, encouraging non-hunters to apply for the few available tags. Against very long odds, Mangelsen drew one of the licenses to partake in the hunt — which never happened due to a federal judge’s decision.  

Attendees at the Saturday gathering pushed to keep on fighting for the cause of conservation to honor Grizzly 399. Wyoming regulations that enable a culture of running over wildlife with snowmobiles were brought up more than once. Advocacy for the grizzly bear herself is also still alive. 

“We cannot, under any circumstances, let her be taxidermied,” Cedarholm told the group.

Instead, she said, a fitting tribute would be to cremate 399 and spread her ashes where she mostly resided, Teton Park. 

The Fish and Wildlife Service is still determining what to do with the remains, according to spokesman Joe Szuszwalak. 

A candlelight vigil has been organized in honor of Grizzly 399 on the Jackson Town Square. It’s open to the public and begins at 6 p.m. on Saturday. 

RELATED

Authorities: Driver hit Grizzly 399 while going speed limit, killing famous bear almost instantly

Grizzly bear 399 struck, killed by vehicle south of Jackson