[ARCHIVED THREAD] - Timothy Treadwell bear attack (Page 1 of 2)
Posted: 12/29/2007 4:41:22 PM EDT
| Is there a video of this anywhere?? |
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I actually know where a copy of the video is on the net... <<Caution graphic>> |
Holy crap! That was unreal! |
The video was apparently to grizzly to watch. Many would find it un-bearable. Personally I would think it would be a Kodiak-moment. Oh well. The moral to the whole story - Living your life with grizzlies will only lead to bruin. 
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Ooooh my God... 
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The old woman that was the leader of the "Grizzly people" group had control of the audio tape. As far as I know, it wasn't released. I always thought it was funny...she was raking in the contributions and living in a beachfront home, while Treadwell was running around in the woods being the fool that he was (and accomplishing nothing) |
But he was naming bears things like "Mr. McDoodles" and "Cubbymuffin." The guy was a complete douchebag. |
 
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From "The Grizzly Maze" by Nick Jans. Reprinted by arrangement with Dutton, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. Copyright 2005 by Nick Jans. Ellis recalls, "We got out of the plane, guns ready. We were in a combat-ready situation, yelling for the people." The shouting is also to alert any bears in the area and drive them away. After tying up the plane, they immediately begin to move forward, hands clenched around weapons, still calling out for Treadwell and Huguenard. Ellis, Dalrymple, and Gilliland thread single file along the steep, narrow trail rising through the alders. Fulton, "amped up" as he says, clambers ahead of them, unarmed, and has to be reminded more than once to slow down. They break into the open below the crown of the knoll and pause, spreading out so that they can all fire at once if necessary. At Gilliland's urging, they decide to wait for Hill and Jones, who are just landing. Because of a lack of space in the tiny bay and overhanging alders everywhere else, the troopers will have to moor 200 yards down the shore and muscle their way along the bank through heavy brush. Gilliland suggests the troopers might have a large-caliber rifle, and the extra firepower could make a difference. Tense and dry-mouthed, standing in the cold deluge of rain, the four men remain facing uphill toward the crest of the grass-crowned knoll, where they last saw the bear. Off to their right is a marshy, open swale; ahead, a curtain of 8-foot alder brush and chest-high grass that restricts visibility to a few arm lengths. The bear trails that snake through the growth will require them, in places, to bend at the waist. Gilliland, the pilot, channels his jitters into his eyes, scanning the brush in all directions. The threat, as it turns out, comes from the rear. "Bear!" he shouts. It's less than 20 feet away, head low, moving silently toward them, its outline blurred by the alders. All four men yell repeatedly, throwing all their pent-up emotion into it, trying to haze the big male away. Instead of retreating -- as almost any bear would, from a tightly packed, aggressive, loud group of humans -- it stares straight at them and steps forward. In his official Incident Report, Ellis will write, "I perceived the bear was well aware of our presence and was stalking us. I believe that." Gilliland concurs. "We were between the bear and its carcass, but it didn't charge us to defend it like most bears would do. It had circled around us and was coming quietly from the rear." Fulton adds, "He had that same look in his eye. I think he meant to kill all of us." The first movement toward them is enough of a signal to the men, whose nerves are stretched like piano wire. Ellis says, "We didn't confer. We all just started shooting." Fulton, who is between the men and the bear, finds himself literally in the crossfire. "I just remember gun barrels swinging toward me," he says. With the bear a dozen feet away, he dives to the ground and the fusillade explodes overhead. A half-ton brown bear, as experienced hunters know, can be almost impossible to stop, especially worked up, coming straight in. There are tales of magnum-caliber rounds -- slugs damn near the size of a thumb -- deflecting off the thick, sloped forehead, and charging animals absorbing incredible punishment, dead on their feet but still coming. Gilliland says he never saw one go down once and stay down. But the barrage unleashed by the rangers is staggering: five rounds each of one-ounce rifled shotgun slugs from Dalrymple and Gilliland, and 11 soft points from Ellis' .40 caliber semiautomatic handgun -- 19 shots in under 15 seconds, the booming crash of shotguns overlaid with the sharp, rapid crack of pistol fire. Troopers Jones and Hill are just tying off their plane when they hear the volley. "I thought it was some sort of fancy multiple-report cracker shell the Park Service guys had," recalls Jones, referring to the shotgun-fired noisemakers often used to scare off aggressive bears. "It was a continuous series of shots, quite a racket." Gilliland's report reads, "I fired five rounds ... with one hit to the head below the eye and four hits to the neck and shoulder." In retrospect, Gilliland feels his first shot killed the bear instantly. But given his experience and the extreme close range, he didn't take chances. Ranger Dalrymple's version is more laconic: "I shot until the threat was stopped." The big bear drops in his tracks, twitches, sighs out one last breath, and is dead. The men stand stunned in the rain, wrapped in a cloud of acrid powder smoke, their ears ringing and their breath steaming into the air. They're alive. Ellis paces off the distance separating him and the bear: 12 feet. Gilliland says later, "If it was an all-out charge, he would have taken down one of us." Pilot Willy Fulton is back on his feet. "I want to look that bear in the eyes," he says. He studies the blood-spattered face, the small, rapidly glazing pupils, and says he's sure it's the same bear that chased him to the plane, the same one he saw on the knoll. The four men continue the last 30 yards to the campsite, no less on edge. Below, the troopers are in sight, making their way through the brush along the lakeshore. The tents are tucked back in the alders, both crushed down but intact; either a bear has walked over them or someone has fallen against them, but the fabric's neither ripped up nor bloody. In front of the sleeping tent is a large mound of mud, grass and sticks. Several metal bear-resistant food containers are scattered on the north side of the camp in some disarray, but sealed and unmarked by claws or teeth. However, it's the mound in front of the first tent, where the bear had stood, that captures the would-be rescuers' attention. There in the muck is what lead ranger Ellis later calls, his voice tight, "fresh flesh" -- fingers and an arm protruding from the pile. There is also a chunk of organ Gilliland believes is a kidney. Digging into the bear's cache will reveal further horror. At least one person is gone, but there's still the possibility of a survivor. While Gilliland goes down to the lake to meet troopers Hill and Jones, Fulton and Ellis explore the tents. Dalrymple stands guard with his shotgun. Since both tents are flattened, Ellis decides the quickest way in is to slash the fabric with his knife. Someone could still be inside, unconscious and torn up, but alive. But they find only clothing and camping and camera gear, most of it stowed neatly. Food in small Ziploc bags, ready to be eaten, as if lunch had been interrupted. Sleeping tent unzipped. Gear tent zipped shut. By this time, Jones and Hill are on the scene. With unmistakable evidence of at least one fatality, the investigation is officially handed over to the Alaska state troopers. Hill is the officer in charge. The troopers brief everyone on crime scene protocol -- the same rules apply here -- and begin documenting the area. Hill takes a couple of minutes of shaky videotape of the wreckage. Ellis and Dalrymple backtrack to the Park Service plane to bring up notebooks and cameras as well. Meanwhile, Gilliland, ever vigilant, spots a bear -- an enormous dark male drifting silently up the same trail he and the troopers have just used. Vision screened by the brush and grass, Gilliland doesn't see it until it's practically on top of them. The animal seems equally unaware -- just traveling the same trail it has for years, every step locked in memory. This guy is bigger than the last one. Just before denning, his muscular frame sheathed in fat, he's at his maximum weight, maybe 1,200 pounds. Bear! Gilliland shouts. Jangled as everyone's nerves are, it's a miracle no one shoots. Fulton, Gilliland and the troopers shout and wave. The bear seems nonplussed by the commotion. He considers briefly and shifts into a lumbering lope, off down the hill -- leaving, but with his dignity intact. Just another Katmai bear. Gilliland shouts a heads-up to Ellis and Dalrymple. They stand on the Cessna's floats and watch the bear stroll off to the west, then walk up the hill to join the others. For a time, everyone is busy with shooting photos and jotting notes, freezing the scene in time. Ellis asks if someone should do a perimeter check. Gilliland volunteers. He backtracks to where the dead bear lies in the alders. Skirting the edge of the knoll, weaving on a search pattern through the brush he's a stone's toss from the others, yet totally cut off. Gilliland is about halfway around his circle when he finds what's left of Timothy Treadwell -- a head missing most of its scalp; part of a shoulder, some connecting tissue, and two forearms. The face, recognizable and uncrushed, is caught in a grimace. Fulton accompanies Hill down to photograph and collect the remains. Washed by the steady rain, everything is surprisingly bloodless. The wrists and face are pale, like wax. While they're working, Gilliland hears a bear popping its jaws, a clear signal of stress and possible aggression. The animal is close, but the brush is too thick to see anything. Fulton and Hill make their way up the knoll with the body bag, and Gilliland, despite the bear, continues his circling of the knoll. He finds nothing more and returns to the camp. The others, excavating the cache, have discovered another head with face intact -- Amie seems peacefully asleep -- as well as some flesh-stripped bones, miscellaneous scraps, and portions of a torso. Describing the remains, Ellis sounds like he's struggling for the right words, something to mitigate the horror. "It was way past the initial stages," he tells me. "One or more bears had time to eat most of two bodies and cache the remains. There was no clothing attached to any part. There wasn't much left of anything. We could not tell male from female." When I ask for more detail, he repeats, "We could not tell male from female." Then he says, after a pause, "One part had a watch on it." Four men break camp and collect Timothy and Amie's gear. Each makes several trips down the now-familiar bear trail to the lake. Meanwhile, Gilliland taxis Fulton back to his plane at the other end of the lake. His Beaver will carry the remains and gear to Kodiak, where the troopers will continue the investigation. (The body bags are so light -- 40 pounds at the most between them -- that the medical examiner meeting the plane will ask for the rest.) While Fulton is warming up his plane, Gilliland taxis back. As he's hiking up the knoll one last time, he hears trooper Hill yell, Bear! Gilliland can see it moving in the brush, circling from the right toward Ellis and Hill, who are to his left. Dalrymple and Jones are to the right and behind, standing by the pile of gear on the lake shore. About 30 feet separates the three men in front and the bear. It's a much smaller animal, probably a 3-year-old -- the kind of bear that most often gets in trouble with people. Driven off by their mothers and on their own for the first time, some are timid and uncertain; others curious and apparently eager for company; a few aggressive, testing the boundaries, seeing how far they can push things. Teenagers, in other words. There's nothing abnormal about the bear's approach, but its timing couldn't be worse. The men have all had enough -- all of them tired and raw-nerved. Still, they hold off. Everyone waves and yells the by-now-familiar mantra, their voices low and forceful: Hey, bear! Ahhh! Get outta here! Vision obscured by a clump of alder, Gilliland circles to his right. He yells to the others that he's going to take a warning shot. There is little reaction from the bear, which continues closing the distance between itself and Ellis -- then turns to go, but circles back, ears forward and staring. It's far too persistent -- either overly curious or aggressive That's it. Ellis shouts for Gilliland to take a shot if he has one. Gilliland replies that he doesn't. The bear moves into a window in the brush, still closing the distance, and Hill and Ellis open fire with their slug-loaded 12-gauge pump guns -- once each. The bear turns, giving Gilliland a momentary opening. He shoots twice. The bear falls and struggles to get up. Gilliland moves in and makes a killing shot to the base of the skull. Four dead now -- two people, two bears. No one takes comfort in the grim mathematical symmetry. It's now after 6 p.m., the light fading and the weather deteriorating. Wind rattles in the alders, scattering leaves and ruffling the dark water of Kaflia Lake. All three planes have an hour of flying ahead and will be landing on the water in near darkness. There's no time to do a necropsy on the dead bears -- open them up and see what's in the gastrointestinal tract, discover if they even have the bears involved in the predation. That job will have to wait for Fish and Game tomorrow, weather willing. It's a task better suited to trained biologists, anyway. One by one, the three planes taxi east, turn, and roar down the lake in the dusk -- Ellis, Dalrymple and Gilliland in the Park Service Cessna 206, bound for King Salmon; troopers Jones and Hill in their Super Cub headed for Kodiak; and Willy Fulton in the Andrew Airways Beaver, alone with his gruesome load and his thoughts. Six men ride the currents of the sky, rising away from this place of darkness and death. But Kaflia will stir on its haunches and follow them the rest of their lives. From "The Grizzly Maze" by Nick Jans. Reprinted by arrangement with Dutton, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. Copyright 2005 by Nick Jans. |
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www.youtube.com/watch?v=fFvUpUY7Ysw Mentally unstable would be putting it lightly. 
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I kinda wish he was still alive.......If he had only been partially eaten then he could better serve as a warning and would not be serving as some sort of martyr to the woodgeeks out there. I doubt people could take his goofball rambling seriously if he were having to say it through a voicebox ala' Steven Hawking because his throat was ripped out etc. |
He was an idiot for many reasons, but I think he was preoccupied with getting eaten at the time. |
I thought that was a girl for the first half of the clip..... Looney tunes |
Yep'er that fella had some problems with the upstairs plumbing. It's really quite interesting seeing the tree hugging numb nut types get their due's. |
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I dont know why so many people are glad hes dead. He loved the bears, he knew what they were capable of. All he wanted was to be left alone. He was aware that they could and would kill him, so whats the deal. Its not like he hurt anyone else. I think the dude was cool. |
ETA How many of you who hate Treadwell hate Irwin too?? Irwin pushed his luck as well.. Both the guys did amazing things around animals and both of them paid the price in the end. |
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Well, as nutty as a Christmas fruitcake he was....Timothy T. certainly wasn't in denial about the fact of what he was doing could very well get him killed and it did. I disagree with what his friends think, that guy had a fucking death wish. For the fact that he was warned over and over of what would eventually most likely happen. He didn't give a shit. |
Yep...all you have to do is watch the movie, and you get a pretty good idea that he was pretty messed up. I wonder what kinds of drugs he was one when he was out there in the wild? Some of that footage was pretty messed up. |
yeah, the man was a tweak, stupid hurts and when you get over confident with nature she tends to remind you who the fuck is boss... if you need another example the idiots that pissed the tiger off in Frisco are another prime example. my troops and I watched his memorial video a while ago and laughed at how off this fool was the entire time and was pissed to learn no video of the education lesson he received. |
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Yeah. I watched Grizzly Man for the first time tonight. Treadwell was obviously in his own world. They had interviews with his friends done in 2004, a year after his death and after time had passed a bit. The ex-grilfriend, Jewel Palovak, indicated in the interview that she still had the tape of his death (yes, audio only) and she would not listen to it, but also, wouldn't destroy it either. In the movie, the director Werner Herzog described what was heard on the tape, but refused to add it into the movie not wanting to make a "snuff film" in his own words. The coroner described the attack as well (he too listened to the tape) saying that the bear went in on Treadwell and the girlfriend was banging a frying pan on the head of the bear while screaming. In a few moments, Treadwell begins to plead with her to run away over and over and then begins to moan. Finally, her screams become more blood-curdling as the bear turns his attention to her. To her credit, she tried to beat the bear off of Treadwell to no avail and it resulted in her own death when she may have escaped. Treadwell had quit using electric fences when sleeping and never carried bear spray. Furthermore, that year was noted for a food scarcity in the area leading to more aggressive bears than normal. Treadwell was also in the park later than his previous trips and in the last days, he notes that most of "his" bears had moved into hibernation and newer "highland" bears had come down into the "maze" as he called it, looking to fatten up before their own hibernation. Check out this link I found on the Yellowstone Bearman's site (no Rickrolls, I promise): click. It's a pretty good account as to what they think happened. |
In the documentary they say that she was scared of the bears and didn't want to be there but he talked her into it. He was definitely a dumb fuck. it's to bad he had to drag that poor girl into his deadly delusions |
Treadwell and Irwin were not the "problem". Let them go their own way I say - fine for them. The problem is with all the warm fuzzy people who produce/watch their shit on TV. They start projecting human intellect and emotion on these bears, sharks, snakes and lizards, etc., and lead a whole section of society into a false perception of wildlife. They are why people get in trouble with everything from deer to the neighbors dog. After watching the warm fuzzy version of some stupid wildlife show, somebody wants to donate to whatever foundation put it on and go give nature a big group hug. |
| I can't access the youtube links that people posted, at work, I know there was an audio file circulating on the net a little while back. IIRC starts off with him greeting the bear, followed by him yelling at the bear, followed by him screaming, then just a bunch of crunching noises. The whole thing is overshadowed by heaving breathing and wind. Somewhere in there he is defending his girlfriend from the bear. It was debated whether or not it the file was fake or real. |
