Yellowstone's wolves

We have chosen for our last two visits to stay at the northeast corner of the park at Silver Gate, Montana.  The Grizzly Lodge is less than a mile from the entrance to the park and about a 30 minute drive to the wolf viewing area between the Yellowstone Institute and Pebble Creek Campground.  This area usually has an active wolf pack where wolves can be seen.  To see the wolves, one must be at this location near sunrise.  In other years there were wolf watchers there at sunset, we did not see that this year. We got up 3 of our 4 mornings to attempt to see the wolves and were successful twice. The middle morning, the pups were seen by folks near us, but the one dropped out of sight before I saw it.

However, where you look for the wolves changes every time we visit.  The best way to see the wolves is to look for the group of people all standing together with scopes.  This year the group was down in the valley looking up onto the northern grassy sage covered slopes.  While my walking is better, I still have mobility issues and decided not to go down there. I set up my chair and scope on the side of the parking area where they were looking and waited.

Shortly, they turned their scopes a different direction. I rushed down to the other end of the parking lot and sure enough, there were the wolves, five of them.  Using my Canon Powershot SX50 with its 1200 mm zoom I was able to capture these images.  Most wolf sightings are distant, with the wolves appearing as small moving specks on the hillside.

Here is my first view of the wolf ascending the slope. The black wolves are easier to spot than the gray ones.

This shot captures two more . . .

I like the running shot.

Here it is cropped closer:

It is hard to explain the marvel that catching a glimpse of wolves in the wild invokes. For me part of the joy is that even when you get up to be there at sunrise, you may or may not get to see them. So when you do, it feels like such a blessing.  In other visits I got to witness the morning reunion of the pack - such a joyful, playful event. I could hear the howls and yips.  

Even when the wolves don't show, the upper Lamar Valley is a tranquil and beautiful place to spend the first hours of the day.  It is a great way to start the day!

Yellowstone's Pronghorn

I freely admit it - I call them antelope because I grew up with the song "Home on the Range."  But true antelopes are found in Africa.  The American antelope is really the pronghorn, Antilocapra americana. It is so truly unique it is the only member of the family Antelocapridae.  Their horns are unique.  Deer and elk have branched antlers that are shed each year.  Goats and cattle have hollow horns made from hair that are not shed.  Pronghorn have are the only animal with branched, hollow, hairlike horns that are shed annually.  Both males and females have horns, but male horns are larger and have a distinct prong.  Males also have a distinctive black marking on their face below the eye.



Running up to 60 miles per hour, it is the second fastest mammal in the world. It can sustain 30 miles per hour for miles. Only the cheetah is faster and the cheetah cannot sustain its speed as long as the pronghorn.

Pronghorns prosper in dry environments.  Pronghorn are found on the Great Plains from Texas north to North Dakota and in the high desert sage found in New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada, Utah, Colorado, Wyoming and Montana.  They eat forbs (non woody flowering plants) and sagebrush with grass making up only a very small portion of their diet.  In Yellowstone, they are frequently seen in the sagebrush in the Lamar Valley.

On our travels we have seen them regularly in northern New Mexico along highway 84/87 east of Raton, New Mexico and along I-25 in Northern New Mexico and southern Colorado. We've also seen them in other sage brush areas of Colorado.   They are common in the Texas Panhandle. I've seen them regularly near Vega and Borger.  They can also been seen in Texas near Alpine and Marfa.

Unlike deer, pronghorn do not jump fences. With the older style barbed wire fences, pronghorn literally run through them or go under the last wire.  Woven wire fencing is a true obstacle.

Pronghorn can raise the hair on their white rumps as a signal of danger.  This is a signal to the herd that danger is near.

The rut for pronghorn occurs in late summer and early fall.  Fawns are born in the spring, usually in pairs. They can walk within an hour of birth and by the fourth day can outrun a man. Pronghorn fawns are odorless as protection from predators such as coyotes and golden eagles. 

While not all pronghorn migrate, Wyoming pronghorns travel 150 miles between Wyoming's Upper Green River Basin and Grand Teton National Park.  They move away from areas with deep winter snow.  The only land mammal that migrates farther distances in North America is the caribou.  

These photographs came from Lamar Valley in Yellowstone.  We saw a small herd near the road. They were a mix of female and juveniles.   I saw the direction they were heading and chose to get ahead of them and park,  hoping they would stay near the road for some nice close up shots as they walked near the car.  I was most pleased when they did what I anticipated.

Winter Solitude

We left Breckenridge on Wednesday. After staying five weeks at the condo, there was much to pack up and load back into the car. And a doctor's call sent me to his office to get my shoulder checked before we could leave - one more thing to slow us down. But we did get off - and headed toward the western side of Rocky Mountain National Park. Instead of taking the fast paced, stressful I-70, we headed north out of Frisco and went through Kremling - leaving the populated areas of Dillon, Silverthorne, Frisco, and Breckenridge behind. It was snowing on our first pass through Rocky Mountain National Park. The highest peaks were hiding behind snow clouds. As we headed out of the park, we passed an area where the snowmobile trail paralleled the road complete with snowmobilers sharing the road with us. We found a hotel in Grand Lake Village - a small rustic town. I almost think that at this time of year the snowmobiles outnumber the cars - as there were snowmobiles to rent EVERYWHERE. It turns out there is a large trail system in the national forest just north of town. You could probably spend days exploring all of them. Grand Lake is obviously doing well financially based upon the well kept building and upscale souvenir shots, but this is not their big season. Our first search for restaurants found many of them "closed." We settled for the restaurant across the street from our hotel, Bear's Den & Paws Pub. The trout almondine was good and we ate there a couple of times during our stay.

It was snowing when we went to bed, and I was looking forward to getting out at dawn, hoping for a colorful mountain sunrise. We got out early and were the first ones to make tracks on the snow in the park - that is, the first human tracks . . . . . Over the next few days we had a lot of fun studying the animal tracks in the snow. The west side of the park gets much more snow and moisture than the eastern side. As a result, the snows are deeper in the winter, and many of the parks animal residents either hibernate or move down below to winter. Birds were few and far between - I think I saw only three or four during the days we were there. Our most common animal siting were the moose that frequented the road.







However, there were lots of animal tracks. Snowshoe hare was the most common,















followed by the moose that crashed through the snowberms along the road.






But we also saw some smaller tracks that were harder for us to identify.




We saw one series that were most likely coyote, complete with a trail "marker".





We saw tracks that were probably weasels and squirrels. I decided that it would be fun to photograph the tracks perhaps to identify later.

While there were a few people driving through, snowshoeing, or cross country skiing, Henry and I pretty much had the park to ourselves. We could hear the wind whistling through the trees, watch the snow devils across the frozen beaver swamps, and enjoy the falling snow.

Evening Walks

When Debra took her first PE class at Pepperdine, she told me about a park across the street from Pepperdine, right above the ocean. Its name, Michael Landon Park, conjures memories of a man I watched on TV much of my life. An actor who stood for much of what is good in this world. Debra is moving back to Texas within the week - so we are doing our last things here. I had always wanted to see this area - so tonight after dinner we decided to take a sunset walk.

There is much that I like about the end of the day. For one thing, it gets cool. For another the clouds and the sky go through a sequence of lovely colors as the rays from the sun slowly recede into the west, and twilight invades from the east. We started our walk after the sun was behind a mountain, but before its last rays had left the mountains. From the PCH, Michael Landon Park looks pretty civilized - baseball fields, soccer fields, a community center. But after you park the car and head off onto one of the narrow footpaths - you have entered a wild area. The footpath is well beaten, but just wide enough for your legs and feet. In many places the plants brush against your legs as you go through the brush. Little birds scurry away in the underbrush. As we headed out to our right was Pepperdine University and the Santa Monica mountains. In front was this grassy moor area. And on our left the calm Pacific with a cloud bank in the distance and the varied colors of the evening sky. At one point on the walk I looked back - the view of Pepperdine was beautiful. The highway was hidden. The wild area contrasted with the green manicured lawn with its scattered trees in a beautiful mosaic. The evening lights of Pepperdine showcased the beauty of its buildings.

At one part of the walk, there was a path that was severely erroded by this last winter's storms. It leads down to a road filled with houses that sit directly on the beach. We could see and hear the breakers come in and crash in front of the houses. Debra said some people still take this, but I told her this was the kind of trail I would much rather go up than down. Very rocky and rough where a new gully had been carved where once there was a smooth path. So we went on and followed the cliff line, stopping to look over to the lingering glow in the west, to search the water for life, and to see the approaching darker blues in the east.

As we walked the trail, there were evidences of wildlife - the calls and trills of unseen birds, an occasional rabbit, and coyote scat. When the trail turned uphill again, I was pleased that my three months of working out at Curves have had an impact on my stamina. Although the hill was not steep, it was uphill and I managed to make it up at a reasonable speed with a minimum of stops. That in and of itself was a small victory.

When we got past the wild area and back into the soccer and baseball fields, there were rabbits everywhere you looked. The babies were so precious, innocent, and more trusting than the adults. But, even so, when you got too close, they scampered away. As the twilight deepened, you could see them in the manicured lawns, under the trees, and right along the brush line that forms the border into the "wild lands." Under the tree, one rabbit was definitely trying to appear like a rock - he was very still with his ears pinned back against his body - so rockshaped, you had to look twice to be sure it was a rabbit - but his eyes were obviously watching our every move. Another was more on alert, ears up listening intently, with a posture ready to run.

There are a couple of areas to sit and look over the water - one with telescopes and a whale tale shaped seating area, one with picnic tables. We stopped at each one briefly to soak in the beauty and tranquility of the scene.

I like the end of the day outside. There is a quiet calm before night comes. And this evening walk combined natural beauty, wildlife, and a renewed joy of a better fitness level.

I will sleep well tonight.