An opportunistic predator
It was a pleasant place for a picnic, but not quite perfect. Leaving their mother and younger sister behind, my two sons and I ventured up the trail along the Bechler River in Yellowstone National Park in hopes of smoother ground. A hundred yards up the trail we found it.
“Can we stay here while you go get Mom and Zoe?” Micah asked. I nodded to my eight-year-old and turned back down the trail while the boys began untying their shoes in anticipation of wading in the shallow river. About the time I hefted their two-year-old sister’s kid-pack,
