In lost books and in science, Brown Bear is a new chapter

The Boston Herald

It doesn't exactly answer the question of where Brown Bear went. But it raises some possibilities. The headline boasted: ``Fossil Indicates Brown Bear Went South,'' which, if you're a scientist or rationally inclined, would indicate that something big had been uncovered in nature. But I read the headline and thought, ``Brown Bear went south? Is this a clue? Is Brown Bear in the cellar? Or in South Boston, maybe, though South Boston is really north of me. Or maybe ``south'' means simply ``under something.'' Under a cushion? Under a bed? Could Brown Bear be hiding?

The Brown Bear I seek is not the large mammal, which is discussed in last week's issue of the journal ``Science,'' but a small book, a board one that you buy for babies so they don't choke on the paper when they chew on it. It's a favorite of the two babies who spend time at my house. It's easy on the eyes (it has colorful pictures) and even easier on the ears (``Brown Bear, Brown Bear what do you see?'' ``I see a purple cat looking at me.'') It used to sit on a low shelf between the kitchen and the family room, easily accessible to everyone, adults and babies. But once in a while I'd find it at the bottom of the toy box, or on the living room floor, or in a crib, or in one of the baby's diaper bags. Clearly Brown Bear was wandering.

The question is, when did Brown Bear wander, not just out of the family room but out of our lives? And where did Brown Bear go? Could it be in the nature of the beast - even a contented-looking drawing of the beast - to not stay put? And wouldn't this be another sort-of scientific discovery? ``Brown Bear, Brown Bear what do you see?'' ``I see everyone looking for me.''

The ritual was that I'd sit on the floor and say, ``Who wants to read `Brown Bear?' '' And Lucy would come crawling and Adam would flap his arms. And, one at a time, I'd read Brown Bear to them. Until Brown Bear disappeared. OK, so maybe our Brown Bear isn't an ``I'm going to cross the continent'' kind of creature. Our Brown Bear is, after all, just a book and easily replaceable. But what I want to know is how it's possible that scientists can not only find but recognize a fossilized jaw from a brown bear that's been dead for 26,000 years. And I can't locate an easy-to-spot book that I had in my hand a few weeks ago.

``It's like finding the missing link,'' gushed University of Alaska paleobiologist Paul Mattheus about the discovery that brown bears walked through Alberta, Canada, migrating from Alaska and the Yukon long before glaciers covered the land. I understand the man's glee. What was lost has been found. What was a puzzle has been solved. ``Brown Bear, Brown Bear what do you see?'' (But I don't hear Brown Bear answering me.)

Scientists had radiocarbon dating and DNA testing to help them make a discovery that has rocked the scientific world. Lucy and Adam and I are going it on our own, searching for Brown Bear, the old-fashioned way, on our hands and knees. We won't make headlines when we find him. But, I guarantee, we'll make a lot of noise.