Thousands of fans traveled across the world to Wyoming just to get a look at her.
Some people cried when they saw her; others took as many photos as possible before she hid from the paparazzi. Her entourage closed roads so she could cross the street without being harassed. Fans stayed up-to-date with her life through pictures on her social media accounts.
Her name was 399, and she was a 400-pound grizzly bear living at Grand Teton National Park.
On Wednesday, wildlife officials announced that 399 died after a vehicle struck her on a highway in Snake River Canyon, south of Jackson, Wyoming. She was believed to be 28 years old and one of the oldest known grizzly bears still reproducing.
Grizzly 399, named after the number on her tracking tag, became famous by showing her followers that bears have emotions, too. Also known as the Queen of the Grand Tetons, 399 spent the bulk of her time near roads, where visitors could see her cuddling, eating and playing with the roughly 18 cubs she had over the course of her life.
‘SHE TAUGHT PEOPLE A WORLD OF POSSIBILITY’
“She taught people a world of possibility — a world where we can live with bears that we’ve been scared of for so long,” wildlife advocate Louisa Willcox told The Washington Post.
Grizzly 399 was born in Grand Teton National Park, which is in Teton County, Wyoming, in 1996; five years later, researchers placed a tracking tag on her ear, said Chris Servheen, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service’s former grizzly bear recovery coordinator.
Researchers said 399 and her cubs might’ve lived closer to roads than most grizzly bears to avoid their fiercest perceived threats – male grizzly bears, which can weigh up to 700 pounds and sometimes kill their own cubs. Grizzly 399 even visited neighbors’ backyards, seemingly unbothered by people.
By the mid-2000s, multiple photographers made careers following 399; Servheen joked she was a “grand salesman for Canon lenses.”
Thomas D. Mangelsen, a photographer who has trailed 399 for nearly two decades, said he was amazed by 399′s vulnerability after one instance in which a car fatally struck one of her cubs. Grizzly 399 ran into the road to grab her cub with her mouth, Mangelsen said, and placed it near a spruce tree in the woods. That night, 399 ran up and down the highway crying, Mangelsen said.
“She was so much like us,” he said.
Deby Dixon, another wildlife photographer, said she traveled from Spokane, Washington, to Teton County in 2011 to take pictures of 399. Dixon planned to be there for a few days, she said, but she ultimately stayed for three weeks, captivated by watching 399 and her cubs daily.
In 2013, 399 tried to cross a creek with three of her cubs, Dixon said, but she was scared to walk over a bridge that was under construction. She ultimately lay on the ground and looked at photographers, Dixon said, until they blocked her other paths, leading 399 to believe they were trying to direct her across the bridge.
“She just stared at us like, ‘How am I ever going to get there?’” Dixon said. “That’s when you see the intelligence and the frustration that, you know, this isn’t a dumb animal.”
While 399′s death was unexpected for some, her fans had feared the thought of her death for years.
Grizzly 399 mauled a hiker in 2007, but the victim and others pleaded for the bear’s life to be spared. A hunter in 2016 claimed that he had killed 399 on purpose, but fans were relieved when she was seen alive months later.
Each winter, 399 hibernated in a den, and some fans worried about her health in recent years – due to her age – until she emerged. Grizzly bears typically live about 25 years, according to the Fish and Wildlife Service.
Willcox hopes 399’s death will trigger new rules to protect bears from becoming roadkill. Between 2009 and 2023, more than three bears died on average each year just in the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem, which is composed of parts of Wyoming, Idaho and Montana, according to the Fish and Wildlife Service.
“She’s telling us something: Get with it. We can do more on their behalf,” Willcox said about 399.
Grand Teton National Park is going to feel like it has “a big hole” after 399’s death, Mangelsen said.
Some of 399’s cubs have died before reaching maturity over the years, Mangelsen said, and he doesn’t know how many of her offspring are still alive. A cub accompanied 399 before she was hit Tuesday, but its whereabouts are unknown, the Fish and Wildlife Service said.
Mangelsen said 399’s death has not “sunk in yet,” but he plans to organize a memorial for her – filled with stories, drinks and pictures.
“A lot of people really loved her, including me,” he said. “We should have a celebration of what she’s given all of us.”