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