v

TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION vi

1. MOUNTAIN HOME 3

2. THE SUCCESSFUL CAMPAIGN TO ESTABLISH A PARK 15

3. THE CAMPAIGN TO ACQUIRE A LAND BASE 27

4. BUILDING THE PARK: THE CCC ERA 43

5. BUILDING THE PARK: FROM WORLD WAR II TO MISSION 66 59

6. AN IMPASSE OVER WILDERNESS 73

7. PLANNING AND DEVELOPMENT IN THE ENVIRONMENTAL DECADE 89

8. MANAGING GROWTH: 1982 TO THE PRESENT 99

9. VISITOR PROTECTION 109

10. VISITOR ACCOMMODATIONS 121

11. FOREST PROTECTION 135

12. WILDLIFE MANAGEMENT 145

13. FISHERIES MANAGEMENT 159

14. BIOLOGICAL MONITORING 169

15. PRESERVING THE MOUNTAIN CULTURE 181

16. THE INTERPRETIVE PROGRAM 191

17. CADES COVE 203

18. THE LEGACY OF DISPOSSESSION 211

19. THE CHEROKEE 223

20.PARTNERS OLD AND NEW 233

21. CONCLUSION 241

APPENDIX 1: LEGISLATIVE ACTS 244

APPENDIX 2: SUPERINTENDENTS 245

APPENDIX 3: ANNUAL VISITATION 246

INDEX 247

Incident report: a woman was feeding a bear from her carwhen the bear suddenly climbed into the car and took a seatbeside her. The woman tried to coax the bear out of her car;she received injuries. Another incident report: a man wasfeeding a bear a few dozen feet from the edge of the road.After the bear ate everything the man had to offer, it followedhim back to his car. The man tried to discourage the animalby touching his lighted cigarette to its nose….1 Incidents suchas these were legion. Resource managers often quipped thatto protect visitors from bears and vice versa would requireone ranger for every bear in the park. As the black bear pop-ulation was anywhere from 400 to 1,600 strong, this was ob-viously impossible. Indeed, at Great Smoky MountainsNational Park the world’s most concentrated population ofblack bears shared habitat with the world’s most concen-trated population of wilderness goers.

Park staff began to wrestle with the “bear problem” in the1930s, and “bear management” (which is really a shorthandterm for bear and people management) became a staple ofpark administration from then onwards. But there wereother significant challenges for wildlife management as well.Next in importance to the black bear was the wild boar, aprolific and destructive exotic species that had to be con-tained even if it could not be eliminated. Then there was thedeer, which threatened to become too numerous in the for-est openings that the park maintained around Cades Cove.And in recent decades much effort was given to reintroduc-ing species that had once inhabited the area before it becamea park, including river otter, red wolf, the peregrine falcon,and elk.

WILDLIFE MANAGEMENT

IN THE CCC ERA

Before there was a bear problem there was a CCC problem.Soon after the CCC was deployed in 1933, wildlife biologistsbegan urging host agencies, including the Park Service, toprovide technical oversight of the many hundreds of youth-ful work crews to ensure that their efforts were beneficial, orat least not harmful, to wildlife habitat. The eminent wildlife

biologist Aldo Leopold described the pressing need for tech-nical oversight in an article in Journal of Forestry in May 1934:

There was, for example, the road crew cutting a grade

along a clay bank so as permanently to roil the trout

stream which another crew was improving with dams

and shelters; the silvicultural crew felling the “wolf

trees” and border shrubbery needed for game food; the

roadside-cleanup crew burning all the down oak fuel

wood available to the fireplaces being built by the recre-

ation-ground crew; the planting crew setting pines all

over the only open clover-patch available to the deer

and partridges; the fire-line crew burning up all the hol-

low snags on a wild-life refuge, or worse yet, felling the

gnarled veterans which were about the only scenic thing

along a “scenic road.” In short, the ecological and aes-

thetic limitations of “scientific” technology were re-

vealed in all their nakedness.2

The Park Service responded to these concerns by hiring“wildlife technicians” and putting them on the CCC payroll.The wildlife technicians had advanced degrees and some-times college teaching experience, and they worked for $166per month without benefits. Most stayed in the park throughseveral consecutive CCC enrollment periods. Their first pri-ority was to serve as watchdogs for CCC projects, recom-mending ways to enhance or mitigate the projects’ effects onwildlife habitat. Additionally they were to make wildlife in-vestigations of various kinds. Of foremost importance, theywere to determine whether additional land was necessary toprovide all-year habitat for the park’s native wildlife, to assessthe practicability of reintroducing native species that weregone from the park, and to learn which native species livingin the park were abnormally low in numbers and what mightbe done to improve their status.

The first two biologists at Great Smoky Mountains, WillisKing and R. J. Fleetwood, arrived in the park in 1934. The fol-lowing year H. M. Jennison arrived, probably replacingFleetwood. The biologists were housed in a wildlife officeand laboratory at Elkmont, several miles from Eakin’s tem-

CHAPTER TWELVE

WILDLIFE MANAGEMENT

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porary headquarters in Gatlinburg.3They reported to the su-perintendent but they also reported to the Park Service’sWildlife Division at the national level. Jennison, a professorof botany at the University of Tennessee, worked in the parkeach summer until 1938. King, a newly-minted Ph.D. whoseexpertise was fisheries, stayed with the park until 1940 whenhe took a job with the State of North Carolina.

Much of what these men did was textbook wildlife man-agement: taking projects that were primarily aimed atforestry and tweaking them so that they would benefit, or atleast not harm, wildlife habitat. Wildlife managers referredto this intentional aligning of forestry and wildlife values as“coordination” or “indirect habitat improvement.” When anew truck trail was proposed, for example, a wildlife biolo-gist went in advance of the work crew to mark individualtrees that ought to be preserved because of their specialvalue as wildlife habitat. Fleetwood made an investigation ofhow animals used dead chestnut trees. This study led to hisrecommendation that dead chestnuts still holding theirlimbs could be safely removed without harming wildlife, butold snags without limbs should be preserved because theirdecayed condition and softened heartwood made them im-portant resources to cavity nesting birds and other animalsthat denned in trees.4

Some CCC projects involved direct habitat improvement.For example, CCC crews were assigned to trout streamrestoration — cleaning up streambeds that were clogged bylogging debris. In these instances a wildlife biologist in-structed the CCC crew on what debris should be removedand what should be left in place to provide essential food andcover for aquatic life. In addition to his stream restorationwork, King began a survey of all the streams in the park, andrecommended which streams should receive priority for re-stocking.5

King described the general status of wildlife at GreatSmoky Mountains in a 1937 report. Most of the native largemammals species had been wiped out prior to the area be-coming a national park. This included bison and elk (bothseasonal migrants in the western part of the Smokies andlong ago hunted to extinction in the region), the eastern tim-ber wolf and the eastern mountain lion (both thought tohave been residents of the area until about the 1890s), andthe eastern otter (thought to have been exterminated quiterecently when King was writing). The white-tailed deer stillhung on, but in such small numbers that King doubted if thepopulation could be saved. On the bright side, King thoughtseveral species were coming back to natural population lev-els. These included eastern black bear, gray and red fox, bob-cat, wild turkey, ruffed grouse, woodchuck, raccoon,opossum, and red squirrel.6

The park considered plans for restocking white-taileddeer. At one time officials expected to secure animals fromnearby national forests and to release them at several loca-tions on both the Tennessee and North Carolina sides of thepark. President Roosevelt even suggested to Secretary Ickesthat the European roe deer could be stocked in Great SmokyMountains National Park. Fortunately, by this time the ParkService was far too committed to the preservation of nativefauna to consider the president’s proposal. Indeed, officialsbacked off the plan to transplant deer from nearby nationalforests based on their concerns that those deer would be ofa different genetic stock than the so-called Virginia white-tailed deer found in the park. Furthermore, Eakin worriedabout the possibility that restocking deer could cause thedeer population to rebound too quickly at a time when theamount of deer range in the park was artificially high. A siz-able deer herd might flourish on the plentiful browse thatgrew in cutover and burned over areas, only to become toonumerous and face starvation when these same areas re-verted to forest. In any case, by the end of the decade deerbegan spreading into the park from the southeast withoutany help from restocking.7

There were some minor disagreements over predatorcontrol. Director Albright had banned predator control in

H. M. Jennison was a professor of botany at the Universityof Tennessee and worked in the park every summer until1938.

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all national parks in 1931, ending the Park Service’s practiceof killing mountain lions and wolves and other predatorswith a view toward increasing numbers of deer and elk forvisitors to see and enjoy.8 Eakin, however, wanted to allowhunting of foxes, bobcats, and skunks, because they preyedon ground nesting birds such as quail, grouse, and wildturkeys. Without offering any evidence for it, he stated thatfoxes were abnormally numerous while ground nesting birdswere scarce. He was overruled on this point and the foxhunting was stopped.9 However, on another point of preda-tor control, killing of water snakes which were thought to bepreying heavily on trout fry, Eakin was allowed to continuethe control in the vicinity of trout rearing pools, popularswimming holes, and development areas. It was recom-mended that wildlife biologists at the park analyze the stom-ach contents of approximately 500 water snakes todetermine if the snakes indeed preyed heavily on the trout.It seems that no such study was completed. Based on muchlater science, it is more likely that the snakes provide somebenefit to the trout by removing diseased or stunted fishfrom the population.10

As CCC funding dwindled at the end of the 1930s, thePark Service lost its wildlife technicians. The Wildlife Divi-sion was abolished in 1940 and most of its staff transferredto the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. As only a handful of bi-ologists remained in the Park Service through the next twodecades, most wildlife matters were left to the rangers. Thischanging of the guard coincided with the rise of bear man-agement as the looming wildlife issue in the park.

BEAR MANAGEMENT

The rangers’ approach to wildlife management might best bedescribed as “hands-on.” They gathered information whileon patrol and they addressed problems by direct action.When the park began to experience “The Bear Problem” inthe late 1930s, the ranger force responded by going after theproblem bears using billy clubs, small shot, and chemicalsprays in an effort to frighten the bears away from people.Arthur Stupka, the park naturalist, thought this approachwas futile, since other bears would just take the place ofthose that were driven away. Moreover, he resented how therangers had taken this matter in hand without consultinghim. He only learned about their weapons arsenal indirectlythrough sources in Gatlinburg. He advised Eakin that theonly way to change the bears’ behavior was to remove whatthe bears were after, namely food in the form of garbage andhandouts. The only way to do that was to install bear-proofgarbage containers and change human behavior by teachingvisitors not to feed bears.11

The park tried both these measures. Eakin launched apublicity campaign to teach park visitors of the need to keepa safe distance from bears and resist feeding them. The parkalso replaced ordinary garbage cans in picnic areas with aheavier type of can as well as a sunken type in which the lidwas level with the ground and was operated by a foot pedal.The first type was decidedly not “bear proof,” and the sec-ond type did not work because visitors overfilled them anddid not close the lids properly. Meanwhile, rangers contin-ued their hands-on approach by live-trapping bears in camp-grounds and taking them to remote sections of the park forrelease. This worked for some bears but the worst offenders— the bears that invaded the campgrounds most frequently— would not go in the traps.12

Over the years, the rangers’ methods of handling prob-lem bears became more resourceful and drastic. They triedelectric fencing. They captured bears by live trapping or tran-quilizing them. They transported problem bears to more andmore remote locations, and they finally resorted to killing afew of the most incorrigible bears. Sometimes the rangers’innovations lacked official sanction. Two rangers in the 1950s

Willis King, a newly minted Ph.D. whose expertise was fish-eries, was one of the first biologists to work in the newpark. He stayed with the Smokies until 1940 when he tooka job with the state of North Carolina.

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employed a low-velocity, ten-gauge shotgun which they elab-orately christened a “Bear Removal Device.” The shotgunbarrel was muffled and concealed from public view by ametal can housing, and the weapon was rigged so that itcould be fired out the window of a ranger patrol car. Theshotgun blast was aimed at the bear’s rump and was sup-posed to hurt but not harm the animal. The car siren wouldbe sounded at the same time, further scaring the bear as wellas covering the sound of the shotgun. The rangers thoughtthis technique gave good results, but when their superiorslearned about it the weapon was quickly retired.13

The bear problem centered around campgrounds andpicnic areas where human food and garbage was most read-ily available, but it gradually ramified into other areas of parkoperations. Bears appeared on the edges of the road, espe-cially the most heavily traveled road over Newfound Gap,and when people stopped in their cars to view or feed theseanimals the result was often an enormous traffic tie-up,known in the park as a “bear jam.” Such traffic slowdownsbecame so frequent as to be practically standard fare fordriving through the park. The chief ranger reported no lessthan 493 bear jams in one month (July 1963) — and this wasjust on the Tennessee side of the Newfound Gap Road.14

Bears also began to stray back and forth across the parkboundary. Pushed to the edge of the park by populationpressure, some bears ventured forth to raid hog pens and killcattle and sheep located outside the park. Of course, wildlifebiologists had long stressed the fact that political boundariesmeant nothing to wildlife; sanctuaries could protect popu-lations of roaming animals but not individual animals in thepopulation. There were reports of mounting property dam-age. This situation led to criticism that the Park Service’swildlife protection policy was creating a nuisance bear pop-ulation, and the park faced the possibility of tort claims and

a resurgence of poaching. In 1952, park neighbor TomAlexander, owner of the Cataloochee Ranch, organized ahunt of a cattle-killing bear and shot the animal in the parkin open defiance of the law. When the Park Service pressedcharges, Alexander received considerable sympathy frommedia and friends and was finally acquitted by a trial jury.15

Besides panhandling bears and marauding bears, therewas also the sad situation of bears held captive to attracttourists in Gatlinburg and Cherokee. Several merchants inboth towns kept bears in cages or chained to posts in frontof their businesses, evidently convinced that these captivebears drew tourists and put more money in their cash regis-ters. However, if some tourists were attracted to the captiveanimals, others thought they were a pathetic and shamefulsight and complained to the Park Service. The Park Serviceresponded to these complaints by saying that it had nogrounds to take action because the businesses were locatedoutside the park, unless it received information that the bearshad been captured in the park. But it did encourage thesetourists to make their objections known to the town mer-chants. Tourists’ complaints eventually ended this practicein both towns, although several cages with bears still gracedthe main streets of Cherokee as late as 1975. A state lawagainst putting captive bears on display was passed that year,but it did not apply on the Indian reservation. It was finallyup to the Tribal Council to eliminate the practice in Chero-kee.16

Yet another extension of the bear problem was the spreadof human-bear incidents into the backcountry. By the 1960s,bears scavenged for garbage around backcountry sheltersites and campsites and some were so bold as to raid campswhere food was stored unattended. Rangers tried to counterthis development by instructing backpackers to burn allcombustible refuse and pack out the rest.17

The ranger force began keeping statistics on bear inci-dents in the park and by 1969 it had ten years of data. From1960 to 1969, the total number of incidents fluctuated be-tween 10 and 148 per year, with an average of 97 per year. Thetotal number of bears captured ranged from 7 to 81 per year,with an average of 34 per year. Over this period the rangersrecorded a total of 77 bears killed, 91 people injured, 107 ci-tations given, and 1 tort claim paid.18 No clear trendsemerged, other than spikes in the level of activity wheneversomething happened to diminish the bears’ natural foodsupply.

Significantly, there had never been a single, recorded,bear-related human fatality in the park. Nevertheless, whentwo young women were killed by grizzly bears in two sepa-rate incidents coincidentally on the same night in GlacierNational Park in 1967, the sensational event suddenly fo-

Park Naturalist Arthur Stupka convinced SuperintendentEakin that the only way to change the bears’ behavior wasto remove what the bears were after, namely food in theform of garbage and handouts.

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cused public attention on human-bear conflicts in all the na-tional parks. It caused parks with a so-called bear problemto re-examine how they dealt with bears, giving increasedemphasis to public safety. At Great Smoky Mountains Na-tional Park, Chief Ranger G. Lee Sneddon and a task forceof five other rangers developed a bear management programthat was more systematic and aggressive than what the parkhad done in prior years. Although its stated objective was “tomaintain bear populations in their natural environments,”its underlying motive was to reduce the Park Service’s expo-sure to tort claims resulting from bear-caused injuries, prop-erty damage, or the unlikely event of a fatal bear attack. AsSuperintendent Fry wrote in defense of the program,“Preservation of human life takes precedence over all otherresponsibilities in Park operations.” The principal featuresof the program were installation of bear proof garbage cans,scheduling of garbage pickups as often as possible, imple-mentation of a more intensive education and law enforce-ment program, and capture and removal of bears fromdeveloped areas on each bear’s first appearance. Each timea bear was captured, it would be ear-tagged and released ina remote area far from the site of capture. If the bear re-turned to the site, it would be recaptured and turned over tothe State of North Carolina or Tennessee. If a bear that hadbeen turned over to one of the states was recaptured in thepark, then the park would “determine the disposition of theanimal,” meaning that it might be killed.19

The program also called for research on the ecology,habitat, and behavior of the black bear, with emphasis onhuman-bear interactions. A biology professor at the Univer-sity of Tennessee, Michael R. Pelton, was the first to respondto this call for research and in 1969 he began a long associa-tion with the park. Pelton worked in the park himself andalso supervised a three-year project by graduate student JaneTate Eagar.20 Midway through Pelton’s studies, the ParkService initiated its own research on human-bear interac-tions by two biologists stationed at the newly establishedUplands Field Research Laboratory, Francis J. Singer andSusan Power Bratton. These studies led to increased knowl-edge of the black bear in the Great Smoky Mountains andin particular, better understanding of bear behavior whenbears became habituated to human food sources. As a resultof the studies, the park made significant adjustments to thebear management program in 1976.21

Pelton’s and Eagar’s work pointed to complex relation-ships between bear population and reproduction, fluctua-tions in the availability of mast, and fluctuations in theincidence of panhandling. Aversive conditioning of nuisancebears provided only a partial answer, the researchers urged.It had to be coupled with less feeding by visitors and less

availability of garbage in order to make panhandling less at-tractive. Singer’s and Bratton’s work corroborated Pelton’sand Eagar’s by showing how ubiquitous human food sourceshad become in the bears’ diet, even in the backcountry. LikePelton and Eagar, the two Park Service biologists recom-mended a reorientation of the bear management programtoward visitor education. In addition, Singer and Brattoncalled for putting greater emphasis on “the burgeoning back-country bear-human relations problem.”22

Starting in 1976, biologists began providing guidance forbear management in the park, but the ranger force was stillin charge. The park soon made enormous headway in bear-proofing garbage receptacles in developed areas. It experi-mented with techniques for bear-proofing backcountrycampsites by providing three-pole devices for hanging foodout of bears’ reach. It strove to educate visitors by offeringmore verbal instruction, disseminating more written mate-rials, and issuing more citations for failure to keep food se-cured.23

Changing human behavior took time, but park officialsbelieved that the combination of bear-proofing and visitoreducation made a marked difference in 1992, the first year in

Wildlife biologist Kim DeLozier called Chimneys Picnic Area“the worst spot in the eastern U.S. for habituating wildbears to people.” The park clamped down on bear feedingat the site and intensified garbage collection.

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a long time when the mast crop failed and bears were unusu-ally intent on seeking human food sources. Compared to thepattern of bear-human interactions in the 1960s, the parkcame through this year with a remarkable record: 92 bear in-cidents and 54 bear captures but only 2 minor bear-relatedhuman injuries and a small amount of property damage.24

In the 1990s, the efforts toward bear-proofing and visitoreducation continued, with a focus on certain problem areassuch as the heavily traveled corridor from Gatlinburg toChimneys Picnic Area. At the beginning of the 1990s it wasstill a common thing for a family to buy a bucket of KentuckyFried Chicken in Gatlinburg and drive up to Chimneys tofeed the panhandler bears. Because of that picnic area’s ex-traordinarily heavy use, park biologist Kim DeLozier calledit “the worst spot in the eastern U.S. for habituating wildbears to people.” The park clamped down on bear feedingat the picnic area and intensified garbage collection. In oneyear, the number of nuisance bears trapped at Chimneys Pic-nic Area fell dramatically.25

At the beginning of the new century the park had a large,healthy black bear population, with an estimated two bearsper square mile, the greatest density over a wide area foundanywhere in the world. But the population remained vulner-able. When bears became habituated to human food sourcesthey lived only half as long as bears that did not, partly be-cause they could be harmed by ingesting plastic wrap, bro-ken glass, toxic substances, and other dangerous items, andpartly because these food sources brought them into a morelethal environment where they could be hit by cars, acciden-tally killed in the process of being trapped and removed, in-tentionally destroyed because they were dangerous, or shotby poachers. Poaching, in fact, removed an estimated 45 to80 bears from the population in and around the park eachyear.26

Modern bear poachers are mostly trafficking in an inter-national black market. Various parts of the American blackbear — claws, feet, teeth, heads, skins, and gallbladders —are highly prized in Asia for their supposed medicinal qual-ities. Dried bear gallbladder, which is used in potions as anaphrodisiac, sells in the black market for $35 to $75 an ounce.Because it is heavily poached, the American back bear waslisted under the Convention of International Trade of En-dangered Species (CITES), which prohibits the sale or ex-port of listed species. In the 1980s, a large poachers’ ringoperated in the North Carolina side of the park, taking per-haps 500 bears over a span of several years. In a sting opera-tion that finally came to a head in 1988, the U.S. Fish andWildlife Service infiltrated the ring with an undercover agentand obtained photographs of the poachers posing with theirdead quarry. The sting operation was so secret that the su-

perintendent was the only member of the park staff in-formed about it. When the huge takedown finally occurred,officers of the law netted 66 suspects in North Carolina, Ten-nessee, and Georgia, all of whom were later convicted.27

EUROPEAN WILD BOAR

The nonnative wild boar entered the park around 1950 andsoon established itself as a permanent resident and seriousdisturber of the native flora and fauna. Using its tusks like aplough, the animal digs its snout into the ground in searchof tubers, uprooting plants and accelerating soil erosion. Itdevours the mast that is such an important part of the blackbear’s food supply. It preys on vulnerable populations ofsnails and salamanders, whose evolutionary defenses do nottake account of this predator. Its prolific disturbance of leaflitter on the forest floor wreaks havoc on the habitat of thesecritters as well as many other small animals. Its fondness forwallowing further impacts the environment, as the wallowstend to muddy streams and clog springs. Able to reproduceat a prodigious rate, unfettered by natural predators, and in-stinctively wily toward humans, the wild boar has proven tobe a very difficult nonnative species to control.28

A group of North Carolina sportsmen introduced Euro-pean wild boar into the United States in 1912 when they im-ported some animals to stock a private hunting preserve onHooper’s Bald, only a dozen miles from what became GreatSmoky Mountains National Park. In the early 1920s, the an-imals escaped and spread into the surrounding mountains.Although interbreeding with feral swine occurred as thepopulation dispersed, a chromosomal analysis of Europeanwild boars found on the Tellico Wildlife Management Areasome 40 years later showed that the animal remained genet-ically close to the European stock. The State of North Car-olina classified the wild boar as a big-game species, and in1959 the Tennessee Game and Fish Commission beganstudying it to understand its ecology and how it might becontrolled.29

Rangers began to monitor the effects of wild boars in the1950s, when the animal was still confined to the western partof the park. In 1958, they recorded extensive rooting damageon Parsons Bald and Gregory Bald. In August 1959, rangerstrapped two hogs along Parson Branch Road, and the fol-lowing year they trapped twenty more, of which fourteenwere turned over to the State of Tennessee Game and FishCommission for stocking game management areas. In the fallof 1960, rangers began shooting and trapping hogs on theNorth Carolina side of the park primarily along the northshore of Fontana Lake. Starting in 1962, some of the animalscaptured on the North Carolina side were conveyed to the

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North Carolina Wildlife Resources Commission for stockingelsewhere. The Park Service had cooperative agreementswith both states in which the park’s interest in eliminatinghogs in the park and the states’ interest in managing hogs asgame were mutually acknowledged. Chief Ranger C. E.Johnson indicated in a memorandum in August 1959 that thegoal of the trapping program was to eliminate this nonnativespecies from the park entirely.30

Despite the wild boar’s high productive rate (femalessometimes bear litters of five piglets twice in a year) the an-imal spread into new territory relatively slowly. Through thefirst half of the 1960s, control efforts in the park were mainlyconfined to the north shore of Fontana Lake and aroundCades Cove. In November 1967, a hog was shot on the Mid-dle Prong of Little River, marking the beginning of the ani-mal’s advance into the eastern part of the park. By 1969, aconcerned ranger in the Little River subdistrict estimatedthere might be 100 hogs in the area with the potential to pro-duce an “explosive increase of population.” That year, a totalof 155 wild boars were removed from the park, the most inany year since the program began in 1959, yet rangers sensedthe hog problem was getting away from them. “The troubleis,” one said, “we just manage to trap enough of them to in-crease the food supply for the rest. Then the free sows havelarger litters, and we’re right back where we started.”31 Theycalled for research into boar ecology that might shed light onmore effective control methods. Superintendent Fry re-quested a study “to develop an effective wild hog eliminationprogram.”32

In the early 1970s, researchers at the University of Ten-nessee took the lead in studying the wild boar in the park,with the Park Service and the Great Smoky Mountains Nat-ural History Association providing logistical support andfunding, respectively.33 As research proceeded on the ani-mal’s food habits and reproduction, rangers noted its con-tinued expansion eastward. By 1972, numerous hogs wereinhabiting the area around Sugarlands; in 1973, a sow wastrapped in Cherokee Orchard; in 1974, several hogs weretrapped on Twin Creeks and Roaring Fork.34

At this time, Susan Powers Bratton was a Cornell Univer-sity graduate student in plant ecology and a part-time resi-dent in the park as she prepared her Ph.D. dissertation onhigh-elevation plant communities. Observing the changescaused by rooting in beech forest communities, Bratton ad-dressed the wild boar problem in her dissertation and sharedher work, which included an exhaustive review of scientificliterature on the wild boar, with the Park Service. In re-sponse, the chief scientist in the Southeast Region offeredBratton a position in the park, asking her to establish the Up-lands Field Research Laboratory. Initially the laboratory was

part of the regional office although it was located in the park.Bratton’s appointment coincided with that of Superintend-ent Evison, who gave the new science program his enthusi-astic support. The following year, Francis J. Singer was hiredas the first resident wildlife biologist in the park since theCCC era. Singer became the lead scientist in subsequent wildboar studies.35

Research on the wild boar was a top priority of the newscience staff, and both Bratton and Singer placed new de-mands on the rangers’ control efforts. In August 1975, Brattoninitiated more detailed record keeping of each hog taken inthe park. Starting in January 1976, all hogs killed were dis-sected, the parts of the animals most commonly brought tothe lab being the animals’ stomachs (for analyzing foodhabits), uteruses (for researching reproduction), and eyeballsor lower jaws (for aging the specimen). Beginning in 1977, afew rangers were devoted exclusively to the control program.

The science staff, for its part, embarked on studies of thewild boar’s food habits, its effects on native vegetation, trap-ping methods, censusing, radiotelemetry, and mast survey.Evison pressed the science group for data and recommen-dations, and in March 1978 the park put out an interim wildboar management plan.36

In the midst of this flurry of research on wild boar man-agement, the park conducted an ill-advised experiment in

Controlling non-native wild hogs has proven to be a daunt-ing task for the Smokies and most other land managementagencies in the South. Said one park staff member, “Thetrouble is, we just manage to trap enough of them to in-crease the food for the rest. Then the free sows have largerlitters, and we’re right back where we started.”

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the use of dogs to assist control efforts. The park contractedwith a professionally qualified dog handler, C. R. Todd ofJesup, Georgia, and in August 1977, rangers began a 14-daytrial use of Todd’s dogs to capture 100 boars within the park.When only one boar was successfully captured after fourdays of effort, the project was aborted. This failed experi-ment raised a furor among sportsmen in North Carolina,who had been pressing the Park Service for years to allowpublic hunting as a control measure. The Park Service’s at-tempted use of dogs rather than sport hunters infuriatedthem. Evison tried to calm the situation by placing a briefmoratorium on all killing of wild boars in the park. Themoratorium lasted approximately six months until the in-terim plan came out.37

The interim plan stated that while the Park Service lackedthe ability to eradicate the wild boar from the park com-pletely — using present methods of control — it did have theability to reduce the number of wild boars throughout thepark and it was essential to make that effort. Further, the ParkService had the ability to eliminate or nearly eliminate wildboars’ impacts on certain species and ecosystems. Thus, thecontrol effort was directed at two goals: reducing the overallpopulation by the most efficient means possible, and elimi-nating or nearly eliminating the presence of wild boars incritical areas. The plan stated that existing control methodswould continue, with the wild boar population being re-duced by a combination of trapping and “direct reduction”or shooting of wild boars by qualified Park Service person-nel. Research would continue on alternative methods.38

The final plan, approved in June 1982, essentially followedalong the same lines as the interim plan but it offered detailson numerous alternative control methods that the park hadtaken under advisement. One option was to reintroducepredators. Two species of large predator were once nativeand could be reintroduced: the eastern timber wolf and theeastern mountain lion. However, even if reintroductionswere successful, which appeared doubtful, both the wolf andthe mountain lion would likely prey more heavily on white-tailed deer than on European wild boar. Another option wasto kill boars with toxicants. This option was potentially cost-effective and efficient, but no known toxicants were targetspecific for the European wild boar. Clay pigeons, Rotenone,and zinc phosphide were each potentially effective, but eachcarried risks for non-target species. A third option, publichunting, was rejected because the law governing the admin-istration of national parks specifically prohibited it. A fourthoption was to introduce a disease pathogen, such as hogcholera, that was host-specific for the wild boar. The prob-lem with this option was that it carried the risk of transfer todomestic pigs outside the park. Finally, there was the poten-

tial use of reproductive inhibitors or sterilizing agents.Known compounds were either too potent and dangerousfor humans to handle, or they required an extended periodof treatment of each individual animal to sterilize it, an im-practical solution for such an elusive wild animal. A recita-tion of these options led back to the idea that conventionalcontrol methods – trapping and direct reduction – had to becontinued. Given the exorbitant manpower demands ofconventional control methods, however, the Park Servicemade a plea for volunteer and state aid.39

State aid in trapping hogs was not forthcoming, althoughstate officials continued to cooperate with park rangers inreceiving trapped hogs for relocation to wildlife manage-ment areas in North Carolina and Tennessee. An updatingof the wild boar management plan in 1993 resulted in no fun-damental change to the program. It did continue to undergorefinements. In 1999, a record 356 hogs were removed fromthe park. The superintendent’s annual report for that yearnoted that a group was petitioning to stop the Park Servicefrom killing wild hogs; “however, local opposition to wildhog control is much less than in the 1970s and 1980s and maydie out due to insufficient interest.”40

WHITE-TAILED DEER OF CADES COVE

By maintaining open fields in Cades Cove, park managersrecognized that they were creating attractive deer habitat anda potential problem of deer overabundance. Through the1950s and 1960s, park managers kept an eye on the deer pop-ulation as it slowly recovered. A wildlife and habitat manage-ment plan in 1967 noted that the deer population in CadesCove, though concentrated, appeared to be fairly static, acondition that was probably attributable to movement ofdeer outside the park into areas where they were hunted. Ifthe deer herd should get too large and start to impact thevegetation, this plan stated, the park would initiate controlmethods, including live-trapping and transplanting deer toother areas and, if necessary, direct reduction by rangers.41

New management guidelines in 1968 emphasized “nat-ural regulation” as a preferred alternative to direct reduction.“Regulation of native animal populations in natural zonesshall be permitted to occur by natural means to the greatestextent possible,” the guidelines stated. This policy presentedthe park with a dilemma. Cades Cove was the largest of fiveareas in the park designated as historical zones. As most ofthe park was managed as a natural zone, Cades Cove formedan enclave within this larger natural area. The open fields inCades Cove supported an unnaturally dense population ofdeer that moved back and forth between the historical andnatural zones. Was this protected and highly visible deer

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herd to be managed by natural regulation? Since the openfields supported an unnatural density of deer, and there wereno natural predators to keep numbers in check, what wouldnatural regulation look like here?

Beginning in 1970, researchers began loosely monitoringthe Cades Cove deer population. In 1971, the herd experi-enced a major die-off due to hemorrhagic disease, but thepopulation rebounded after just one year. The deer densityin Cades Cove continued to increase through the rest of thedecade. In 1980, it was considered one of the most concen-trated deer populations found anywhere in the South. In1981, the park received a request from the Tennessee WildlifeResources Agency for 50 deer to be used for restocking inHawkins County. The park agreed to the translocation, andstate biologists captured and removed a total of 51 deer.Shortly before the removal operation, a series of deer countsby transect estimated the size of the herd between 293 and531 head. A post removal count placed the herd at 537 head.After these translocations, no more efforts were made tocontrol herd size. Spotlight counts in 1983-84 indicated thatthe herd had finally stabilized at a relatively high density.42

By 1989, Park Service biologists felt cautiously optimisticthat natural regulation was working. “The deer herd ofCades Cove…represents a unique opportunity to observeand monitor an unhunted population in a relatively naturalenvironment,” a resources management report stated. 43 Itseemed that in this southern setting, where winters were toomild to cull the herd, disease was the natural control thatheld the population in check. Accordingly, research in the1980s and early 1990s focused on monitoring the presence ofinfectious diseases in the herd. In 1997, the park stepped uphabitat monitoring as well. Researchers established 30 vege-tation plots, each 10 meters square, half set up as deer exclo-sures and half left unfenced as control plots. Eight years intothe study, researchers found no difference in the number ofspecies present in the exclosures and the control plots (al-though, not surprisingly, they did find that tree seedlingswere quick to get established in the exclosures).44 At the startof the twenty-first century, some managers still had qualmsabout how natural regulation of the deer herd interfacedwith artificial manipulation of habitat in this historical zone.But for the time being, at least, natural and historical valueswere joined in Cades Cove in a kind of peaceful coexistence.

REINTRODUCTIONS

In 1967, Superintendent Fry asserted, “All wildlife speciesthat were present when the Park was established still existwithin the present Park boundary.”45 Well and good, nospecies had been lost on the Park Service’s watch. But the

Leopold Report of 1963 challenged park managers to thinkand act more boldly: why not reintroduce extirpatedspecies? Over the next 30 years, the park attempted fourreintroductions: peregrine falcon, river otter, red wolf, andNorth American elk. The red wolf was unable to reproducesuccessfully in the park, but the other reintroductions tookhold, restoring three species to the park’s biota.

Contrary to Fry’s claim, the last known nesting pair ofperegrine falcons at Great Smoky Mountains National Parkwas reported near Alum Cave Bluff in 1942, so this speciesdid in fact disappear after the park was established. The de-cline of the peregrine falcon was attributed to the buildup ofDDT in the environment. As a top predator in the foodchain, the falcon accumulated DDT in its body, whichcaused a thinning of its eggshell and consequently a high rateof reproductive failure. By the mid-1960s there were noknown pairs remaining east of the Mississippi River. How-ever, a captive breeding program initiated by Cornell Uni-versity scientists in 1970 led to a U.S. Fish and WildlifeService (FWS) recovery program five years later aimed at re-establishing the peregrine falcon in its eastern breedingrange. By 1975, DDT residues in the environment were at lowenough levels to pose no threat to the bird. In 1984, the FWSselected Great Smoky Mountains National Park as the mostpromising site for a reintroduction of the falcon in Ten-nessee. Assistant Superintendent Roland H. Wauer and Su-perintendent Cook agreed that there were compellingbiological, aesthetic, and moral reasons to support the effort.The Park Service cooperated with the FWS, the TennesseeWildlife Resources Agency, TVA, and the Peregrine Fund incarrying out the project.46 A total of thirteen young peregrinefalcons were hacked and released. For the next ten yearsperegrine falcons were sighted in the park but no nesting pairwas recorded. Starting in 1997, a pair nested in the Alum CaveBluff area.47

The next animal reintroduced in the park was the riverotter. A mostly fish-eating carnivore, the river otter is threeto four feet long and weighs about 22 pounds. Its body isfinely adapted for an aquatic environment, with webbed feet,a muscular tail, a sleek head and torso, and a thick, two-lay-ered coat of oiled under-fur and long guard hairs. The otter’sfine pelt made it a valued commodity in the fur trade and theanimal was relentlessly hunted by fur trappers in the nine-teenth century. Once abundant throughout North America,it was drastically reduced in numbers. In the twentieth cen-tury, pollution and the destruction of wetlands eliminatedthe animal from much of its original range. The last recordedsighting of a river otter in the Smokies was in 1936.48

The otter was reintroduced in Tennessee in 1982 at LandBetween the Lakes in a cooperative effort by TVA and the

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Tennessee Wildlife Resources Agency (TWRA). Encouragedby the results, TVA and TWRA broached the Park Serviceabout reintroducing the otter at Great Smoky Mountains.Park Service officials were receptive as the reintroductionmet all of the Park Service’s criteria. As park biologist KimDeLozier explained, besides the obvious requirement thatthe reintroduced species is native, “the species can’t be detri-mental to other native species in the park, and it can’t bedetrimental to nearby landowners.” There was some resist-ance to the reintroduction by anglers who feared the otterwould prey heavily on trout, but biologists thought the otterwould most likely go after slow-moving, bottom-feeding fishthat were easier to catch, and this did prove to be the case.Jane Griess, a graduate student at the University of Tennesseewho wrote her master’s thesis on the reintroduction of otterat Great Smoky Mountains, contended that “otters may ac-tually benefit trout populations by removing competitive fishfrom trout waters.”49

After nearly two years of discussion and feasibility stud-ies, 14 otter were captured and shipped to the University ofTennessee. Two died of stress en route and a third was tooseverely injured to be released into the wild, but the remain-ing 11 recovered from the trauma of their capture and ship-ment. These otters were quarantined at the University ofTennessee for a minimum of ten days, and while in quaran-

tine each one was fitted with a radio transmitter (surgicallyimplanted in a cavity in the intestinal area where the devicewould not interfere with the animal’s mobility or reproduc-tive capabilities). On February 28, 1986, they were releasedinto Abrams Creek. Some people involved in the effort hadworried that these otters, which had been captured in warm,lowland rivers on North Carolina’s coastal plain, would mi-grate out of the park in search of warmer waters with morefood in them. But they stayed in the area and bred and suc-cessfully raised young.50

The park followed up this effort with more releases inother parts of the park. The next test was to see if otter couldthrive in waters that were more heavily visited by humans.Accordingly ten otters captured in South Carolina were re-leased in the Little River during the winter of 1988-89, andfour more from Louisiana were released in the same area in1990. Another ten were released in 1992, eight of these on theNorth Carolina side of the park.51

The attempt to reintroduce the red wolf began with aninquiry to Superintendent Pope from the U.S. Fish andWildlife Service (FWS) in about 1990. Approximately tenyears earlier, the FWS had captured some of the last remain-ing red wolves in the wild on the coastal plains of North Car-olina and South Carolina and had transported them to PointDefiance Zoo in Tacoma, Washington, where a captivebreeding program was established. By about 1990, this cap-tive population had grown from 14 to more than 100 individ-uals, and the FWS wanted to take some and attempt tore-establish them in their native habitat. Great Smoky Moun-tains National Park appeared to be a good prospect.

Pope strongly supported it and invested a good deal oftime on the matter over the next few years. First he held dis-cussions with his staff and once his staff was on board hewidened the circle to include state and local representatives.A major concern was whether this large predator posed athreat to humans. Wolf biologists brought out the importantpoint that the red wolf does not run in packs like the north-ern timber wolf. Another concern was that the red wolfwould attack livestock. The FWS made arrangements tocompensate livestock owners for any loss of cattle in CadesCove, where one of the releases was planned.52

Over the winter of 1991-92, a red wolf family was experi-mentally released and recaptured. In October 1992, a redwolf family was released from a pen near Cades Cove, andin December 1992, a second family was released from a pennear Tremont. Cades Cove was selected because it had anabundance of deer as well as a small herd of cattle. Biologistswanted to learn whether the wolves would prey on livestock.Prior to the release, biologists worked with livestock ownersto construct a “nursery corral” for the protection of young

The effort to reintroduce red wolves to the park ultimatelyproved unsuccessful.

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calves. Five calves were lost to wolf predation, all of whichwere taken when they were outside this corral.53

Both wolf families produced litters in the spring of 1993.All of the wolf pups died during the next six months. Biolo-gists suspected they were killed by parvo virus, a disease towhich the wolves had low resistance because it had only ap-peared in the Southeast in the early 1980s (when the popu-lation was in exile at Point Defiance Zoo). The pattern wasrepeated annually: in the spring new litters appeared, and byfall all of the pups had been found dead or had vanished.After five years of watching the adult wolves fail to sustainyoung, biologists with the FWS determined that they mustabandon the wolf recovery effort at Great Smoky Mountainsand refocus the effort in other areas where climate and landconditions might be more suitable.54 The last adult red wolfwas captured and removed in 1998.

While the red wolf recovery effort ended on a down notefor the park, another reintroduction was getting underwaythat would give people much joy. In 2000, the park com-pleted an environmental assessment for the reintroduction

of North American elk, a species that had been missing fromthe native biota for about two centuries. Major concernsabout this reintroduction included the effects that this verylarge herbivore might have on the ecosystem, and its poten-tial to carry diseases that could be passed to cattle outsidethe park. Also, while elk had been successfully reintroducedin a number of locations in the eastern United States, theproject carried the usual risk of failure. One notable risk fac-tor: the park was a good deal more forested than was idealfor elk habitat.55

The elk were released in the Cataloochee Valley in 2001,each one radio-collared and ear-tagged so that the ParkService could track its movements. After five years, the elkherd was growing and its range was spreading to other partsof the park and outside the park. December 2005 markedthe end of the first phase (experimental release and data col-lection) and the beginning of the second phase (data evalu-ation). Indications were strong that the elk reintroductionwas a success.

The experimental elk reintroduction started in 2001 in Cataloochee Valley with the release of 25 animals from Land Betweenthe Lakes. Today, the park’s elk population continues to grow and disperse.

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