The Bear Went Over the Mountain

We entered Yellow-
stone on roads banked with snow, some drifts nearly as high as the roof of the motorhome. Norris was our base for several nights -- a favorite campground with a meandering stream and resident bison, Bob, a solitary bull who’s inhabited the meadow for years, wandering through campsites at will.
Just open for two days, the campground still had piles of snow along the roads and some campsites. A grizzly had passed through the day before, leaving his scratch marks on a tree. Ravens favor this campground, croaking from the pines. This is the most active of Yellowstone’s hydrothermal areas, and a low cloud of sulfurous steam lies over the nearby geysers on cool mornings.
We visited Mammoth Hot Springs on a surprisingly warm day, eating Wilcoxson’s ice cream at a picnic table outside the general store and watching elk graze while visitors stretched on the lawns, exposing winter-white limbs to the high altitude sun. But mountain weather is nothing if not changeable, and by late afternoon back at camp a blustery wind drove us inside to a glass of Syrah and a warm dinner, grateful we can be so comfortable without electricity or water hookups.
The temperature outside was bitter and we marveled at the tent campers who occupied half of the campground, wearing wool caps and cheerfully cooking dinners on their Coleman camp stoves. Darkness fell, the wind howled and snow began falling, fat flakes driven by a north wind. We sat in our cozy Happy, hot tea in hand, listening to Anderson Cooper on Sirius radio. Across the road, a young couple sat near their little tent toasting marshmallows, the sparks from their campfire blending with the swirling snowflakes. What happy campers they were!
Yellowstone is all about animals and this visit did not disappoint. We added a sandhill crane, beaver and bighorn sheep to our checklist, along with wolves and bears.
The extreme winter has kept grizzlies outside the park at lower altitudes this spring, unable to reach the higher ground they prefer. A number have been shot in Montana, where they’ve been forced to raid chicken coops and poach calves to feed their cubs. Although grizzlies are legally protected, their killing is ruled justifiable in these cases, because animals owned by humans are deemed more valuable than the animals who inhabited the land long before humans arrived. (Editorial comment.)
Grizzlies roam high open spaces, while black bears are forest creatures and more difficult to see, even though they’re far more numerous. Most bear sightings happen through the eyepiece of a spotting scope and often they’re over a mile away. Our first bears were a grizzly sow and yearling cubs, near the crest of a hill in Hayden Valley. Then we saw a black bear, meandering through a draw along the road.
We drove to Lamar Valley, a haven for wildlife, famed for its wolves. A new pack has formed to replace the decimated Druids, occupying the Druids' former den and led by alpha female 06, a former member of another pack, returning to her grandmother’s territory.
Spotting fellow wildlife spotters one morning, we arrived in time to see 06 and males 755 and 754 trotting through the sage on the far side of the river, pursued by five coyotes, scrappy competitors for food and territory.
Since wolves frequently kill the smaller canines, we were puzzled at the brave but seemingly foolhardy behavior, watching the coyotes close in and literally nip at the heels of the much larger wolves.
Then we learned that the wolves had just destroyed the coyotes’ den, killing the four pups inside and, in atypical behavior, eating them. Wolf expert Rick McIntyre told us that while wolves commonly kill adult coyotes, they rarely consume them. “It’s a form of respect,” he said.
Mesmerized, we watched the wolves climb a small bank and head toward a herd of bison, where several calves slept in the sun a short distance from the adults. Unhurried and deliberate, the bison turned and formed a circle around the calves, horns pointing outward and a large bull taking the lead.
Although one wolf lingered, the other two knew better than to tangle with such a formidable foe, and soon all three headed toward the distant trees, then circled back.
Back at the den site, the five coyotes yipped and howled, searching the sage in vain for survivors. Off to the right, a lone doe elk grazed near the traveling wolf pack, then sprang to rapt attention. She took off at a trot toward the wolves, but failed to reach her destination in time, as the gray female wolf pounced on a tan object – the doe’s hidden calf -- and the pack dispatched their prize in short order. It wasn’t fun to watch, even at a distance, and we left soon after.
The mood was lightened when we returned that afternoon and watched a pair of courting grizzlies on a distant ridge, the bears interrupting their amorous activities with playful slides down a snowbank.
Yellowstone is a domestic safari, where we can observe predators and prey surrounded by visitors from around the world. A British woman we spoke with gave herself a week in Yellowstone for her 40th birthday. We gave directions to a trio of Belgians, shared a spotting scope with Dutch tourists, and binoculars with an Argentine and his Japanese girlfriend. At one bear sighting I heard nothing but French.
Animal observations await at every turn: a pronghorn antelope unsuccessfully attempting to coax her day-old twins to cross a shallow draw; snowy-white mountain goats on the precipitous cliffs of the Barronette, framed by snow-melt waterfalls (we counted 15).
Hearing about a large grizzly at Mary Bay, we arose at first light and headed south, stopping enroute to watch a grizzly sow and two yearlings dig for tubers, roots and rodents in Hayden Valley. One cub stayed at the mother’s shoulder, imitating each move, while the other kept wandering off, distracted.
The Mary Bay griz didn’t materialize, but a jam of cars lead us to another grizzly sow and cubs in Swan Lake Flat. Unlike the previous forager, this bear seemed to wander in circles, sniffing the ground like a bloodhound, while the cubs followed behind.
Sharing wildlife tales with a couple from Arizona, I heard a German yell “she’s got a calf!” and raised my binoculars to see the trio of bears pounce on an elk calf, the second we’d seen killed in as many days and obviously the scent she was tracking. This was getting to be grisly.
We’ve since learned that as many as two-thirds of the elk calves fall victim to predators, ranging from bears to golden eagles. While pronghorn calves practically emerge running, and bison have strong protectors, elk calves are left hidden by their mothers in the brush for up to a week until they’re strong enough to follow. Often, this strategy is a failure.
Returning home, we saw a black bear with tiny cubs whose comical behavior entertained the crowd they drew. And in Mammoth, where the resident (but still wild) elk sleep on lawns, we saw a doe and calf whose survival seemed more probable, given their sheltered environment in the human world.
And just as I opened my laptop, an elk doe appeared outside our window, her spotted Bambi calf still unsteady on wobbly legs. The flattened grass in the morning showed they’d bedded down outside our door.
There were more wolf and bear sightings, and a reunion with our pal Ranger John, whom we’d met three years ago. The temperature rose 50 degrees in two days and wildlife retreated, bears soaking in streams and snow to cool off, heat waves obscuring long-distance sightings and elk lying in the shade, panting.
We were grateful when the clouds moved in. I was making a shaker of martinis our last night at Mammoth campground – there’s something about gin and mountain air -- when Terry came to the door and said, “The guy next door said there’s a grizzly on the hill!”
Campers were running down the road with cameras and binoculars, and soon we saw a large brown-colored black bear – not a griz – moving through the woods. After days of viewing bears through spotting scopes, we had our own bear in the campground, closer than any we’d seen. Soon the ranger arrived, lights flashing atop her truck. The bear moved across the hillside, trolling for elk calves, while a herd of does kept close watch. “He already got a calf this morning across from the school,” the ranger said.
As the bear came close to campsites, the ranger chased it up the hill, waving her arms and yelling. “I wouldn’t try that if it was a grizzly,” she admitted. Still, we were impressed. Undeterred and smelling dinner, the bear kept returning, much to the delight of a group of German campers snapping pictures. We watched for over an hour, thrilled at the dramatic finale to our stay in Yellowstone, but grateful that we didn’t witness another kill.
And then the bear went over the mountain.
Pictures on following link. Click on first one to initiate slide show..
https://picasaweb.google.com/happytwo.mcwilliams/1Yellowstone2011?authkey=Gv1sRgCO_WkqDZidPHNw&feat=directlink

Window on the Wildlife World

We sat in the hot tub at the rec center in Jackson, watching early morning snow swirl outside the window and thought, this is definitely the way to camp. A short distance outside Jackson, Gros Ventre campground may be among the country’s best, with spectacular mountain views and so much wildlife that expedition vans visit regularly, bringing visitors who hope for a glimpse of the animals we view each day from our front window.
We’re surrounded by the bounties of nature, yet close to town, with its wonderful rec center cum indoor Olympic pool, Thai restaurants and brew pub.
This spring has provided us with the best wildlife sightings in four years, and often we don’t even have to get dressed or open our door to see it. Our campsite is on the wildlife thoroughfare and the scene changes hourly. Uinta ground squirrels chirp and scamper through the sage, hoofed herds meander through each morning and evening, and birds sing with gusto at first light.
We watched a ground squirrel strip bark from a piece of our firewood and haul it off to line an underground den, while a robin struggled mightily to break a twig from the sage for her own nest. The campground is peppered with badger holes, the strong diggers flinging melon-sized rocks as they burrow for prey.
Long-legged elk crossed the road just in front of our car last night, freezing in the classic deer-in-the-headlights stance. Seeing a herd of mountain goats on Miller Butte was a rare treat, since the only other time we’ve seen them is on the alpine peaks of Glacier Park.
Bison appear in the distance and within minutes are just yards outside the front window. It seems to be a regular commute: eastward in evening, west in the morning. An enormous coffee-colored bull spent 10 minutes scratching his head on a fence post, leaving hunks of spring-molting winter fleece in his wake.
Trees along bison routes are rubbed clean of bark at shoulder height, as bison passing through rub their cheeks like cats with a scratching post.
At night the bison returned, one meandering past the still-smoking grill where Terry barbecued our Wagyu burgers just a half-hour earlier. In the morning they wandered through from the opposite direction, keeping Terry company as he cooked bacon outdoors. Obviously, they don’t fear the scent of meat. In reality, they fear little and we love them for their fearlessness and attitude. I’M A BUFFALO I DO WHAT I WANT reads a favorite bumper sticker. The first of the calves have appeared, kicking up their heels out near Mormon Row.
One night it was a herd of nine white tail deer, the bucks spotting us through the glass and urging the herd along. Watching darkness steal over the mountains another night, Terry was startled to see a moose outside the window, close enough to touch. Although it was too dark for a photo, I took a grainy one anyway, just to show how close she was. I’ve taken to including the windshield wipers or dash in these front window pictures, just for perspective. It’s a cushy way to watch wildlife, especially when glacial winds are coming off those snowy peaks.
In the morning the deer – common most places, but seldom seen here – meandered through again, one doe investigating our campfire ring and picnic table, and the bison appeared later. There’s a moose on the loose at every turn; hiding in the sage, strolling along the road, moseying through the campground. These are welcome sightings, since their scarcity last year caused concern among biologists that newly-arrived wolf packs were taking a toll.
The silence at night is profound, broken only twice in two weeks by coyote howls. This is truly America’s Serengeti.
Despite occasional snow flurries and colder temperatures, the sun has coaxed new wildflowers into bloom each day and added vigor to the basil and arugula seedlings I’m growing on Happy’s dash as my science experiment.
Yesterday Terry cooked breakfast outside and this morning I’m baking biscuits as the snow flies past the windows in big wet flakes, covering the picnic table and wildflowers I took pictures of yesterday. Word has it, the bears are out in Yellowstone and if snow hasn't closed the road, we head there tomorrow.
Here's the link for pictures: https://picasaweb.google.com/happytwo.mcwilliams/2TetonSpring2011?authkey=Gv1sRgCKKgz8DsjOv2JQ&feat=directlink
Click on first one to initiate slide show.

Sometime Spring

We’ve never seen so much snow in mid-May, little surprise when last winter’s snowpack in Jackson Hole was 200% of normal. There are still deep drifts in the shadows at ground level and nearby hills bear ribbons of white.
The 1050-mile drive from St. Helena was a messy one, with 18-wheelers throwing sheets of muddy slush against the windshield and roads that get worse each year, the potholes, ruts and bumps rattling the teeth in your head. Added this year are avalanches and rockslides, one large enough to close the Snake River Canyon highway.
But once we reached the scenic home stretch, when the Tetons burst into view, we spotted herds of pronghorn in the sage, more than we’d ever seen in one spot.
There were no welcoming bison as we pulled into Gros Ventre campground before dark the second day, filling the tank with water and settling into our favorite campsite, one of only a half-dozen occupied. A scattering of moose droppings seemed a good omen.
The motorhome literally expands our horizons, with views all around and a huge picture window looking out on the mountains. It’s well named the Vista. I made martinis while Terry scanned the sage meadows, spotting two moose in no time. We sipped our drinks and watched the moose from our comfy seats until dark – the perfect first night at one of our favorite places on earth.
The moose had moved toward the trees during the night, but were still easily visible from our window on the wildlife world as we sipped our morning coffee. Binoculars revealed a large herd of elk on the opposite hill, moving steadily through a steep snowfield toward a canyon. There would be more moose, one relaxing in a campsite down the road, another browsing near the aptly-named town of Moose. Last spring they were scarce.
The first day would reveal a wealth of elk, as we spotted herds numbering in the hundreds in their annual spring migration from Jackson’s National Elk Refuge north to Yellowstone. Finally, thanks no doubt to the late spring, Terry got his wish to be here when the elk were on the move.
This morning's coffee was sipped viewing bison, moving from the trees to within spitting distance of our front window. The behemoths browsed for over an hour, then moved out of sight, just as the expedition van arrived with visitors out for a morning of wildlife viewing.
Each year is different; each season brings its own wonders. We’ve seen no young yet this year, although the meadows were well-populated with blond bison calves last May. The great horned owl we’ve watched nest in a nearby tree for three years has not returned. But the liquid warble of meadowlarks remains a constant, and the cerulean flash of the bluebird.
Wolves have moved into the valley in recent years and on a drive to Miller Butte to observe mountain goats, we came across two winter wolf kills of elk, the bones cracked for the nutritious marrow inside.
Today brought the annual Elk Fest, where it's possible to buy a single antler from a vendor on the street or 500 pounds of them from an auctioneer. Each spring, Boy Scouts gather the shed antlers from the Elk Refuge to auction off on Jackson’s town square. Buyers from around the world purchase lots by the pound, with 80% of the proceeds going to maintain the refuge, and the remainder to the Scouts. It’s a nice bit of recycling where the antlers the elks shed each winter help finance the purchase of their supplemental feed for the following year.
Last year’s take was a disappointing $47,000 on 6,000 pounds of antlers, but this winter was severe and with 10,000 elk remaining on the refuge, Scouts gathered 15,000 pounds.
I know it sounds goofy,” said one Scout leader. “But the world price for antlers is set right here.”
Such is the competition for antlers that two local brothers left their ranch at midnight last Monday, leading pack horses through deep snow for seven miles to be first at the gathering grounds at dawn.
Snow still covers the bike path and rain arrives late each afternoon. But welcome bursts of sunshine punctuate the days, illuminating the neon yellow of spring willow shoots and revealing the first of the wildflowers in the meadows. And by next week, the bison may drop their calves.
Pictures at: (Click on first photo to view one at a time.)
https://plus.google.com/photos/103909884233134954214/albums/5609360317397893825/5609397435502298050?authkey=CLKL3brp2LK8bw&pid=5609397435502298050&oid=103909884233134954214