Note: At almost the exact same time I submitted this article to The Recorder last week, word arrived that Steve Jenks had passed away in a snowmobile accident. This is relevant for reasons that pertain to the story that follows. But it is particularly relevant because Steve Jenks was Eric York’s best childhood friend.
The Jenks family has always been an outdoor-minded group who support that way of life in every phase. The whole family loved to snowmobile. Steve, as is his brother Tom, was a fine deer and turkey hunter. Both boys started young, with their father Sandy guiding them. The sudden passing of yet another young person from Franklin County is hard to understand and accept. Listening to the minister speak at Steve’s funeral, hearing what we all knew about the way he lived his life and what a good man he was, gave a moment of pause for us to reflect and remember … and then you wonder why?
But we can take some comfort in knowing that Steve and Sandy are together again, somewhere, running ridges with Eric in places where the weather is always fair, and the ridge-lines never end.
Without a doubt there are, “treasures” amongst us in this county from all walks of like. People in the arts, medical profession, educators, religious leaders, elected officials, just to name a few. And then there’s many who are just regular people like you and me.
We all know someone like this … or at least we know of them. But today, I have a specific person in mind that I’d like a few more people to know about. Or maybe give those who knew him a reason, even for just a moment, to remember this man who left us way to soon while leaving a legacy little known to some, but as large as the mountains he lived and worked into the many who knew, loved, and respected him. And he’s from right here in Franklin County where he lived almost his entire life.
It was 2008 when I first penned a word or two about Eric York. This was done in honor of Eric as he had unexpectedly passed away that same year. I was a selectman in Shelburne at the time. I was writing a dedication of recognition for Shelburne’s Annual Town Meeting to both Eric and his grandfather, Edgar Gould, who had also passed away that very same year.
Almost 11 years has passed since that evening. I still find myself thinking about them both on an almost monthly basis. I think about Edgar mainly because of our long friendship. But also because of the admiration I held for him … and because I miss talking with him whenever time allowed for it. Which was often.
Over the years, we discussed many things from hunting to politics. But it wasn’t always that way. I first met Edgar in 1976 and liked him almost immediately. That said, I can say with a solid degree of certainty, that he did not have the same reaction towards me, and that’s all I’ll ever say on that topic. Over the years, however, our friendship seemed to just find its way, on its own, eventually leading to the high regard I still hold him in, along with his entire family, right to this day.
Eric, on the other hand, was only around 6- or 7-years-old when we first met. That meeting was no more than a simple passing between Eric, his parents, and me. Over the years it remained that way in a friendly, respectful, but not necessarily close manner. I mean, I was 20 years older than Eric, so, I never expected more than that, nor did I ever think about it other than the fact that he was Tony and Launie York’s son, and Edgar’s grandson. It wasn’t until at least 15 years later that I began any real dialogue with Eric York. Thus, my story begins about this, “Shelburne Native Son” who found his calling in the Santa Monica Mountains, via the woodland hills, ridges, peaks, valleys, and poetic secrets of beauty that this beloved Shelburne of ours holds for those willing to step forward and find them.
My first conversations of any substance with Eric were about hunting. It was clear to me that the boy had a passion for the sport that was handed down to him by his father, grandfather, and uncles … all better than average woodsmen. But Eric was special you see … at that time however, I’m not sure anyone really knew just how special he would become, both as a man and a professional Wildlife Biologist whose work with carnivores of all shapes and sizes would soon become the basis of legend in the circles he walked and worked in.
Long before this journey began, Eric was growing up, running the ridges in Shelburne on both the York and Gould farms and God only knows where else. He grew up as a farm boy working in the family garden, caring for livestock and horses, haying, and just living the life of a young man growing up on a family farm in New England. He would run the woods with his friends exploring and sharing adventures. Or, as his sister Andrea stated in an article written about Eric last year in a National Parks magazine, “Many days Eric would just hike for hours in the woods looking for animal tracks and sign simply because that’s what he loved to do.” Thus, the seeds of a career in the outdoors were most likely being planted right then and there. Whether Eric knew it yet is probably a mystery except to, perhaps, only those closest to him.
Nevertheless, his experience caring for animals on the farm, along with his passion for the woods and all things wild, led him to the University of Maine where he learned how to track and trap elusive species such as marten and fisher cats. He later went to the University of Massachusetts in pursuit of his wildlife conservation graduate degree. It was there that Eric began to set himself apart by developing even more skills in the art of tracking, and now, collaring scores of fisher cats which were starting to make a comeback during that period in both Massachusetts and beyond. Eric’s work-obsession and commitment soon led him to the Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area in California to continue developing his skills and expand his work.
By 2003, word of this young man began to spread, eventually making its way to the Grand Canyon, and another wildlife biologist named Elaine Leslie, who reached out to him as someone she felt, “shared a vision that was a little different than others in this very competitive field.” She also said that she sensed in Eric, right from the beginning, a different perspective and respect of what it meant to work in a very protected environment such as the South Rim of the Grand Canyon.
With that, Eric was off to Colorado where his work, which now included his expertise in radio collaring, began on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. What awaited him there were mountain lions. His journey led to unexpected information about this elusive creature from the data Eric collected over the next four years. Everything from proving these big cats were swimmers, to solidifying the fact that they existed in abundance in the South Rim and beyond, to the distribution and effect they have on the Colorado Plateau ecosystem. All work that was led by Eric and became invaluable information in obtaining a better understanding of this beautiful animal, while ensuring the continuation of a species through his research and dedication that even today is still be being used, and referred to, by wildlife biology students in pursuit of a career in wild cat conservation.
Sadly, just as his career was taking him to higher places, he was taken in a way that no one could have ever seen coming. In 2007, a collar reading was indicating that one of the mountain lions was no longer moving, which suggested that the animal may have died. Eric followed the reading deep into the Southern Canyon Rim. Once he found the animal, he carried the 90-pound lion back to his vehicle, driving it home to conduct a necropsy and determine what happened as he had done many times before. At the time, this region of the Grand Canyon had no real facilities or laboratories to work out of. Instead, Eric ended up conducting necropsy’s in his garage, which had become almost routine.
This time, after a few days, he began to experience flu-like symptoms. He checked in with the Grand Canyon Clinic, who sent him home telling him to rest and recover. A short time later he was found at his home by co-workers where he had passed away from respiratory failure. Somehow, Eric had inhaled a substance called, airborne Yersinia Pestis bacteria! A very uncommon bacteria to both lions and humans. Over the course of a few days it proliferated into his body and he died of pneumonic plague. He was 37-years-old at the time. Eric’s passing was a shock and a tragedy to his family and to those who respected and worked with him. His death was also tragic for mountain lions in the park and for wildlife globally, as he had dedicated his life to researching big cats throughout the United States, Pakistan, Chile and Nepal.
During this time, he learned even more about different species of protected animals, which helped him continue his journey in astounding fashion. Much of what is known about mountain lions today is attributed to Eric York’s research during that period of his career. He also worked with the Felidae Conservation Fund, and was on their technical advisory board. At only 37, he had come so far and accomplished so much, yet he knew he had so much more he wanted to learn and share.
Sadly, his sudden death brought an abrupt halt to lion research in the park for many years after. His colleagues remember Eric as an amazing individual who would rise before dawn to set, and then check his lion traps, while only briefly stopping in the office before returning to the field to check his traps again.
He found kill sites, followed tracks and monitored activity. He learned that lions have large territories, and that their prey consisted largely of elk. He also learned that people affect lions much more than lions affect people. This was apparent during a five-year period when several lions were either killed in collisions with automobiles on park roadways or by legal hunting outside the park boundary. It was Eric’s plan, over time, to educate the public about lion activity in hopes of decreasing these human/lion encounters.
As I write this, his colleague and friend, Brandon Holton, continues the lion program that Eric so carefully crafted by expanding the study and continuing to trap and collar South Rim Mountain Lions in the park. And he continues to publish much of the research that Eric began. All that said, it is still difficult, even now almost 11 years later, to comprehend the loss of this young man.
In losing Eric, a Franklin County lad who grew up in the beauty of Shelburne and went on to do great things, we are all reminded of the people, and the treasures, living among us in these hills and small towns we call home. We are also reminded of the fragility of life and how we must live every minute to the fullest with family we love, friends we care about, and those we share this region with every single day. Eric lived a full and rich life. His passion and dedication to the wildlife he loved will live on in the memories of all who knew him. The past cannot be changed, but through how we live our lives and respect and treat each other, perhaps we can make a difference in the future. Eric made a difference.
Along the way, he left a legacy that will serve generations for as long as mountain lions roam the Southern Rim of the Grand Canyon. Or perhaps for as long as they roam anywhere that we may find them. Maybe this will be the place we also find Eric! I was told that his ashes were spread all over the country in places he’d been and loved. Some were also buried in a small cemetery near his family’s farm. A stone is placed there with a head of a mountain lion scrolled onto the surface, which of course was very fitting. Perhaps the words etched on that stone say it best when we think of and remember Eric Charles York: In every walk with nature, one receives far more than he seeks.
Joe Judd is a lifelong hunter and outdoorsmen. He is an outdoor writer, seminar speaker, and consultant. Joe is currently an active member of the Quaker Boy Game Calls, Bass Pro Shops and Cabela’s Pro-Staff.