Where Have All the Bison Gone?

The Teton range came into view at the same time the clouds turned black: fluffy, whipped-cream cumulus morphing into indigo; black streaks of rain touching the far-off horizon. By the time we made our way through Jackson, rain splatted on the windshield and lightening crackled in the mountains, illuminating the darkening landscape.
We reached Gros Ventre during a lull and set up camp in our favorite area, having seen only a few distant antelope on the way.
The next couple days showed how lucky we’ve been in the past sighting wildlife in this vast expanse of wilderness, and how unpredictable sightings can be. Bison remain dark spots in the distance, recognizable only because we know this is where they live. We miss the bison jams, the snorting and trembling of the earth as they gallop past, the baleful look of the lead bulls as they meander across the road. Don’t they know I just sent a check to the Buffalo Field Campaign to protect their wild brethren?
We've learned that each wildlife sighting is a wondrous gift and we can't take them for granted. What are the odds that an animal will come into viewing range in the few seconds you pass by? Very slim, given the vast size of the park.
Although no one complains but me, the weather is unseasonably warm – highs in the mid-eighties, glass-winged grasshoppers buzzing in the sagebrush as if it were mid-July, wildlife not yet triggered to move south.
The camp hosts recognized us and shared the happy news of seven moose in the campground, five of them bulls. We visited the tree that housed the great horned owl nestlings this spring. The cavity was predictably empty, but I searched the duff at the base of the tree and found a small rodent skull, evidence of the winged hunters’ residence.
We discovered a new area bordering the elk refuge and made our way up the mountain on a dirt road to Forest Service land, in search of a lake and a hike. We found parked horse trailers and a few cars, but no signs indicating the direction of the lake. There were, however several signs warning this was grizzly territory, making the narrow trail leading through the dark forest unappealing. We chose instead the primitive road, marveling at the incredible views across the tawny-grassed elk preserve to the distant mountains.
The silence was profound, the deepest I’ve ever experienced. The dropping of a single leaf was audible. The chattering of a red squirrel seemed as loud as a jackhammer. It was, frankly, unnerving and we turned around before reaching the lake, stopping in town to buy a can of bear spray.
An early-morning bike ride began with the eerie sound of elk bugling and our first sighting of a herd, a large bull with a four-foot rack moving close enough in our direction that we sought the shelter of trees until he moved the herd away. The new bike path to Jenny Lake made 15 miles easy and we so enjoyed the trek we bought new bikes in Moose.
Nights are properly frosty, with star-studded skies and the sound of the river helping us drift off to sleep. Despite daytime warmth, vegetation announces the approach of winter. Patches of golden aspen punctuate the green-black mountainsides; cottonwoods are turning from green to yellow. Black hawthorn, chokecherry and spirea grow more crimson with each day, and rabbit brush and dogbane spread their egg-yolk hue in vast expanses in open meadows.
This morning a bull and cow moose appeared in the campground, the cow browsing while the bull lay in the sage. When we returned from a hike six hours later, antelope browsed the sage close to the road and the moose pair hadhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifn’t moved, although the sun had. Visibly panting, the bull finally rewarded waiting photographers, stood up and moved into the cooling shade.
We went to a fund-raiser the other night to support research on the pika, the alpine-dwelling rabbit cousin which is considered a predictable indicator of climate change. A search for pika at Slide Lake produced only a fleeting look at one of the tiny, bunny-faced creatures.
Postscript
Returning to camp the next day after a ride on our new bikes, we spotted a welcome and familiar sight: a herd of bison coming back from a cooling drink in the river. Nearly 100 of them stopped traffic as they crossed the road, the calves kicking up their heels and the bulls giving us the bison stink eye.
Things are looking up on the wildlife scene.
Pictures at:
http://picasaweb.google.com/happytwo.mcwilliams/Sept182009TetonBlog?authkey=Gv1sRgCJXOn7nR2vCy7AE&feat=directlink