A crisp September morning in 2018 found Beth Pratt traversing a creek near Kuna Lake in California’s majestic Yosemite National Park, a place she reveres as her "North Star." The distinct, fresh scat piles along the water’s edge signaled an imminent encounter, and soon enough, a black bear emerged, perched serenely on a boulder. Pratt, a seasoned wildlife observer with three decades of experience within Yosemite’s rugged embrace, felt a familiar connection, akin to greeting a neighbor. The bear, after a brief sniff in her direction, ambled on, a testament to the respectful coexistence she champions. This intimate moment, one of countless such anecdotes from her extensive time in the park, encapsulates the spirit of her new book, Yosemite Wildlife, a profound narrative that invites readers into the hidden lives of the creatures inhabiting this iconic landscape.

Published in October, Yosemite Wildlife arrives not as a conventional field guide or a lavish coffee-table book, but as an eloquent plea for understanding and preservation. Pratt, who serves as the California Director for the National Wildlife Federation, masterfully employs storytelling to craft vivid, personal profiles of Yosemite’s diverse inhabitants. Collaborating with photographer Robb Hirsch, the book bestows a rare reverence upon every creature, from the "gentle, googly eyes" of a black bear to the "songsters" of the Sierras, the coyotes, and the bats whose echolocation Pratt poetically describes as "the music of starshine." Beyond celebrating their inherent beauty, each page carries a stark warning: these remarkable species face profound threats, and their continued existence hinges on humanity’s commitment to safeguarding their precious habitats.

The timing of the book’s release was particularly poignant, coinciding with a period marked by significant policy shifts that saw the rollback of public-land protections and cuts in staffing and funding for vital institutions like the National Park Service. This broader context underscores the urgency of Pratt’s message, transforming the book into more than just a wildlife chronicle; it becomes a powerful call to action amidst escalating environmental challenges. Her journey to author this essential work began decades earlier, during her inaugural visit to Yosemite in 1992. Amidst a magical snowfall, she experienced her first wild coyote encounter, a moment that ignited a lifelong passion. Her subsequent search for comprehensive, up-to-date information on the park’s wildlife revealed a startling void, with Joseph Grinnell and Tracy Storer’s seminal 1924 work, Animal Life in Yosemite, remaining the most authoritative text for nearly a century. This discovery solidified her resolve to tell the evolving story of Yosemite’s wildlife for a new generation.

Pratt’s extensive research for Yosemite Wildlife involved delving into decades of nature notes, field journals, and observation cards, alongside comprehensive literature reviews and countless hours spent in park archives. However, the true essence of her book stems from her immersive, thirty-year commitment to direct observation. Spending two to three days a week in the summer simply watching animals, she cultivated an unparalleled understanding of their behaviors and the subtle dynamics of their ecosystem. This dedication extends to her volunteer work with the National Park Service, where she has participated in bear patrols, birding expeditions with researchers, and turtle observations, all while meticulously recording her findings. Over the last decade and a half, she has broadened her focus to include climatic conditions, such as snowpack and temperature, and employs comparative photography to analyze how environmental shifts impact animal behavior, particularly among high-elevation species.

The changes in Yosemite’s wildlife over the past century, as documented by Pratt, are stark reminders of human impact and a warming planet. The American pika, for instance, once found at elevations as low as 7,000 feet during Grinnell’s survey, now struggles to survive below 9,000 to 10,000 feet. These small, cold-adapted mammals, inhabiting high-alpine talus slopes, are acutely vulnerable to rising temperatures, forced to ascend higher until they literally run out of suitable habitat. This elevational range shift is a global phenomenon, threatening countless alpine species as climate change accelerates. Another compelling example involves the raven population. Scarcely seen in Grinnell’s era, ravens are now ubiquitous, drawn by human food waste. These opportunistic corvids exploit new food sources, including the struggling endemic Yosemite toad, whose decline is exacerbated by climate change, habitat loss, and increased predation. Pratt’s work highlights how human actions, even seemingly benign ones like leaving out trash, can profoundly alter delicate ecological balances.

In selecting which animals to feature in her book, Pratt focused on what she termed "uniquely Yosemite," prioritizing endemic species and those with compelling stories that illuminate broader conservation issues. The black bear, for instance, serves as a powerful narrative about shifting human perspectives. Instead of blaming bears for seeking out human food, park management and visitors have increasingly recognized their own responsibility in preventing such conflicts. This paradigm shift underscores the critical importance of proper waste management and visitor education in national parks, advocating for practices that protect wildlife from habituation and harm.

Pratt acknowledges that the typical visitor experience in Yosemite often doesn’t involve abundant wildlife sightings, noting that the park is not a "Disneyland ride." This reality underscores a core message of her book: even in the world’s most protected natural areas, human presence impacts wildlife. She urges visitors to reflect on their behavior and "tread lightly," recognizing that their actions have consequences for the wild inhabitants. The book aims to inspire a deeper appreciation for wildlife, even those rarely seen, such as the elusive Mount Lyell salamander. By understanding that sensitive animals inhabit these spaces, a hiker on Half Dome might act with greater care, fostering a sense of shared responsibility. Pratt emphasizes that learning wildlife behavior, akin to "reading the wildlife weather," is key to experiencing these magical encounters. Knowing, for example, that pikas often follow the same routes to gather their "haystacks" allows for more meaningful observations.

In a period marked by significant threats to public lands and environmental safeguards, Pratt’s voice carries immense weight. She candidly expresses her fear, stating that in her 56 years, she has never witnessed such an "assault on our public lands or the natural world." Consequently, Yosemite Wildlife transcends a simple celebration of nature; it stands as an urgent "call to action." Pratt hopes the book will ignite a fervent desire to protect places like Yosemite, ensuring that it remains a vibrant sanctuary for its diverse inhabitants. Her deepest hope is that her work serves as an inspiration for future conservation efforts, rather than a somber chronicle of what has been irrevocably lost.