It had been at least four days, I realized one morning with a painful tug, since I’d even put a brush to my hair. The days blur together in one extraordinary orgy of wildlife viewing and it seems we are living on the Discovery channel planet. All of us "regulars" – an author, a teacher, an architect, a civil engineer -- plus daily visitors from around the world – are here for one reason, and this interest in viewing wildlife bonds us on a primal level. Despite the occasional Obama bumper sticker, there is no talk of politics or world travel or great restaurants and wine. We’re not even eating what could be viewed as meals.
Partly due to the weather, we’ve had not a single campfire at night, drinking wine and playing Uno as in California camping. Instead, everything is about the sharing of sightings and encounters with wildlife. Prime wildlife viewing times preclude normal mealtimes, so we find ourselves eating dinner at 3 or 4 and grabbing snacks during the rest of the day in the truck. Sometimes we try to get in a nap, since we never get more than six hours’ sleep at night.
Far from the tourist mobs at Old Faithful, everyone seems to gather at “Footbridge,” the unofficial name for a pulloff below the Druids’ den, to get in some evening spotting and recount the day’s experiences. Rain, hail, spectacular lightening crackles and ground-shaking thunderclaps -- nothing diminishes the size of the group.
It was over a week before we had the chance to talk with our campground neighbors from San Diego, who leave at first light and are already gone when our alarm goes off at 5 each morning. We’ve met couples from Paris, Madrid and Zurich on this great wildlife safari, all in campers traveling the American west that exists nowhere else in the world. They come to Yellowstone for bears and wolves.
The day it opened for the season, we rose before 4 a.m. ourselves to move from our previous campground and get a spot at Pebble Creek, which has only 30 spots and is in one of the best locations in Lamar Valley. We succeeded in getting a spot between the roaring river and a crystal clear creek, with a view of snow-capped peaks and a resident black bear who’s sighted frequently, often out in the meadow eating dandelions. The campground has pit toilets, no showers, not even water since the flooding river contaminated the well. Regulars return for decades and we know we are lucky to be here.
The weather here at nearly 7,000 feet elevation changes from blinding sun to the blackest of clouds and pelting rain within minutes. Nights are always cold, and we sleep under a thick pile of covers I call the panini press. Happily, there have been enough breaks to get out and do a little hiking.
We’ve seen our hoped-for wolves and glimpsed at least six new pups through the trees. We’ve sighted a number of grizzlies – one too close for comfort. Just as we began a hike yesterday, we heard a man yell from his car: “People – there’s a big bear heading your way!” Looking in all directions, we saw nothing but scrambled back toward the truck and saw a large grizzly galloping – and they run 30 miles an hour -- straight toward us across the road. In a few heart-stopping seconds we were inside the truck in time to see that the object of his attention hadn’t been us, but an elk rib cage from a previous kill, which he grabbed in enormous paws as if it were a toy, rolling onto his back and tossing it in the air. Next time we’re here we’ll invest in bear spray.
Each day brings a new series of sightings:
--Three low-to-the-ground badger pups, peering from atop their den with comical jailbird-striped faces;
--A yearling black bear, strolling at the edge of the road atop a rock wall at the brink of a breathtaking precipice, just as any teenager would do;
--An enormous grizzly emerging from the forest and setting its sights on a bison calf on the outskirts of the herd. The grizzly took off and a hundred bison were on the move, quickly coalescing into a galloping herd. The bear charged after the herd, moving to one side or the other as a calf straggled. Then, as if on cue, the herd did an about-face and stampeded after the grizzly, an astonishing chase that lasted until the bear tired and veered off toward the forest.
--Three separate dens of coyote pups, one with wrestling adolescents under the watchful eyes of both parents, the other two with five and six little pups, curled together and dozing in the sun.
--A black bear emerging from the forest to graze her way across a meadow, followed within minutes by a huge cinnamon male twice her size, large scar on his right shoulder. The uncommon cinnamon black bear followed at his distance, climbing over fallen trees clumsily with an odd gait that seemed to indicate hip injuries. “Maybe he has hip dysplasia,” ventured one onlooker, to be corrected by another with more bear knowledge than the rest of us: “He’s not injured; that’s the courting stance.” We later laughed about our faux pas with Ranger John. “I used to walk around like that a lot when I was 17,” he said.
--A bighorn sheep ram, appearing in the same spot each day and turning his head one direction and the other to show off his best angle before shutter-snapping onlookers like a body builder at Venice Beach;
--A sleek river otter and three kits, rolling over and over on a grassy log like circus tumblers until the youngsters fell off with a splash;
--A pronghorn antelope, probably the one we’d seen the night before with an unsteady newborn, stomp the ground with her forward hooves and chase away a wandering coyote.
Some sightings we’ve missed:
--Four wolves attacking a single calf and mother bison, who kept her youngster protected within her legs and the wolves at bay until the cavalry arrived in the form of the bison herd, which routed the wolves. Formidable foes, bison can kill wolves and have even been known to come to the aid of elk.
--Four blacktail deer, marching shoulder to shoulder, and driving a coyote pair away from their own den of pups
--A female moose, with grave injuries from a bear or wolf attack, lying for days under a tree, then appearing upright with a newborn calf, who nursed for several days while the weakened mother grazed. Days later, the mother was found dead in the creek and the calf attempted to follow rangers, who observed park hands-off policies and left it to its fate.
It’s difficult to remain dispassionate about some of the things we’ve seen, particularly now in the season of the young. I’m glad we haven’t witnessed any of the kills, although in some cases we’ve missed them by mere moments. Woven into the unspeakable beauty of the place is grim evidence of the fragility of life, as every animal is another’s meal. It’s a daily saga that’s been addicting, exhausting, sometimes horrifying and always riveting.
Critter pictures at: http://picasaweb.google.com/happytwo.mcwilliams/2YellowstoneBlog2009?authkey=Gv1sRgCNrnnqiCnIagJA&feat=directlink
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