The government trapper who took the grizzly knew he had made Escudilla safe for cows. He did not know he had toppled the spire off an edifice a-building since the morning stars sang together….Escudilla still hangs on the horizon, but when you see it you no longer think of bears. It's only a mountain now.

· Aldo Leopold (1949)
Mention grizzly bears to an Arizonan and you’re likely to draw a blank stare. Most people associate the great bears with faraway places like Alaska and the northern Rocky Mountains. But grizzly bears around Flagstaff?
Though largely forgotten in Northern Arizona today, grizzlies once roamed freely in places like Oak Creek Canyon and the San Francisco Peaks. Indeed, less than 100 years ago grizzlies could be found from the Chiricahua Mountains near the Mexican border to the White Mountains of Eastern Arizona.
But as European-Americans began pouring into the region in the 19th century, the bears were quickly perceived as an economic threat to the emerging Southwestern livestock culture.

The results were predictable. By 1935, the last Arizona grizzly had been destroyed.
Now, 66 years after their demise, the closest we can come to a local grizzly is through the writings of those who encountered them. And no one interacted more often with the bears than hunters.
Fortunately, some left detailed accounts about their experiences. One of these hunter/writers, Jack Tooker, owns the distinction of both destroying and immortalizing the last remaining grizzly family in Northern Arizona.
Of course, to say that Tooker alone destroyed the animals would be untrue. Losses of livestock to predation were intolerable for working ranches, whether by wolf, lion, bear or coyote. For any predators unlucky enough to be in the vicinity of a kill, regardless of their guilt, the sentence was death.
Around the turn of the 20th century, several acts passed by Congress, including the Homestead Act and the Stock Raising Homestead Act, encouraged people to move into every corner of the Southwest. The latter gave settlers with livestock 640 acres of land wherever they could find it.
These enticements meant that grizzlies and other predators were pushed to the very limits of their range within a matter of years. When livestock devoured the herbaceous vegetation that was traditionally the grizzlies’ main food source, the grizzlies could no longer resist the easy meals of sheep and cattle.
Enter Jack Tooker. In the book "The Last Grizzly" (University of Arizona Press), Tooker tells how he was hired by a rancher in 1920 to exterminate grizzlies suspected of being stock killers in Sycamore Canyon. Roughly 40 miles from Flagstaff, Sycamore Canyon is isolated, without roads and has long been known as a miniature Grand Canyon. Some 22 miles long and up to seven miles wide, Sycamore begins just south of Williams before joining the Verde River near Clarkdale.
As Tooker begins, he considers the bounty offered by Tom Wagner of the nearby Bar Cross Ranch: "It was April. The bears were out. Grizzlies were killing stock on both sides of the Sycamore Canyon…the cowmen had organized several ineffectual hunts for the bears…killing was becoming so wanton, the stockmen agreed to offer a reward for skins. The figures agreed upon were $1100 for the two bears - $700 for the male and $400 for his mate."
Tooker took the job and immediately began his hunt: "I was west of Turkey Butte and the old, historic Mooney Trail, when, on crossing the head of a canyon, I came upon two fresh tracks. I was growing tired, although I had not covered much ground, but when I saw those bear tracks and the immensity of them, I forgot everything but the thrill of the hunt ahead of me."
"After following them for about two hours, I came to the mouth of a small canyon where the tracks separated. The big fellow had gone straight down into the Sycamore, while the smaller tracks led up to a side canyon. This situation meant a den and cubs to me, but I wanted to be sure." The hunter’s reasoning was correct, as the tracks led to a small cave where the mother kept her cubs.
Yet Tooker’s discovery did not mean instant success, for the bears moved under the cover of darkness: "It is hazardous enough to meet one grizzly in good light, where your sights are plain, but to meet two of them in the dark, and one of them a mother with cubs near – well, that would be recorded as a case of plain suicide. Five mornings found me at the mouth of the little canyon at daybreak, but always I was just a little late."
Finally Tooker decided to attack the bears at their den: "As I neared the cave, I could hear the cubs. Several times a chubby little fellow wabbled to the mouth of the den, and at last the mother stuck her head out. The bullet struck her between the eyes, missing the brain. Out she charged like a mad bull, tearing oak brush down, looking everywhere for me."
"As she came under my stand I placed a bullet just back of the hump. It ranged down, passing through her heart and tearing it to shreds. She died trying to locate the enemy. After skinning the mother bear, I killed two of the cubs and tied up the other one. But even with all feet tied he would not cease fighting…so I was forced to shoot him and skin him, along with his brother and sister."
After taking the skins to a cabin that night, Tooker returned to the canyon the next morning for the male bear: "He had been there, and when the mother failed to show up, he had gone up to the little canyon to investigate. His tracks showed that he was still there. I decided on a stand on the north side of the canyon…I had gone only half the distance when I heard the brush cracking."
"As he came to my tracks he stopped short, looking everywhere for me...he stared straight in my direction for several minutes, but as I made not the slightest move, he shifted his gaze. I was filled with admiration for that majestic animal. I would not have killed the mother and cubs but for the fact that they were outlaws, stock killers, with a bounty on their heads. But with this fellow there was no choice…the hair stood up all over his body; he was ready for battle."
Tooker fired once at the bear’s head, dropping the animal to the ground. But the fight was not yet over: "He revived as quickly as he had passed out. I pumped my four remaining bullets into him in rapid succession. Any one of those wounds would have caused death in time, but now his body seemed impervious to them. He had reared up on his hind legs less than 10 feet from me. As he lurched forward…he slapped the gun from my hand. He closed in; I ducked under his massive arms."
"Then something happened - it seemed as if a mighty pile driver had plunged down upon my head, forcing, driving it down between my shoulders. Late that afternoon I regained consciousness. The dead grizzly was lying on my left leg; my right was broken. It seemed that every bone in my body was broken or crushed."
Tooker was soon found by a ranch hand who escorted him to the nearby D.K. Ranch winter cabin. Following a doctor visit and six weeks on the mend at the cabin, Tooker was able to walk away with his $1100.
During a recent visit to the cabin, I noticed the old bed where Tooker had lain. A rusty can hangs from a nail above the door and, outside, a small spring provides good clear water. But the surrounding forest seemed to lack a vital charge of electricity. The grizzly here is no more. Sycamore Canyon is only a canyon.
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November 2005: Note:  the tin can still hangs over the door,  the bed and stove are out back,  the cabin has been cleaned out inside by hikers, campers and hunters.