Monthly Archives: August 2013

Velevet On Velvet Off

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Well it’s that time of year again. The trees are just showing the first inclination to put on their party colors and then denude themselves, the air is taking on that brisk tang in the morning that startles you into realizing fall is coming and change is in the cold morning wind. The guys are still staying together in the small groups they formed when the antlers fell in the middle of the winter, but they are beginning to eye each other warily now, friends are becoming deadly competitors, all truces are off and its time to get serious, boyos.

All summer long they’ve been growing their antlers, always being careful not to damage them, and now they itch and they’re turning hard and this damn velvet has to come off and right now. That best friend he’s been hanging with could very well be his next deadly adversary because these boys don’t fight for fun. The points on those antlers are sharp for a reason and they’re eager to put them to use. The stakes are pretty high in their world and its no holds barred when it comes down to who is going to come out of this in one piece.

This is the critical moment in their yearly cycle, its velvet on, velvet off and the bell is about to ring. There is no best man wins in this scenario, its more a matter of survival and that makes it serious in a way that these guys know only too well. Right now the blood has to dry and then the antlers need to be polished. Then its good luck to the one left standing.

CowLick

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Socializing young elk is a full-time job for elk moms. Its late afternoon the kids are home from school and after snacks and some sprucing up its time to rejoin the herd for the evening get together. During the day the herd goes about its business with the cows finding out where the best new grass is, where the lazy no account bulls might be, and watching over the kids while they’re in school. There’s been some comments made about the length the recesses have stretched to since the cutbacks. It seems like they’ve been doing a lot more playing and a lot less studying, but since they’re only young once and for not very long at that, it’s ok. Mom will pick up the slack. Right now she wants to know how he got milkweed that far into his ear. His brother is taking full advantage of his siblings discomfort to get more than his share of the afternoon pick me up and it seems as if their daily activities aren’t much different from ours. I know my sister used to get milkweed in her ear and she turned out alright.

Rough Night Ahead

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The Dubois badlands. I think they have been very badly misnamed and should have been called the Dubois Goodlands. Now I know why they’ve been called badlands and it has a lot to do with settlers being able to settle here and basically stay alive. Once you move away from the Wind River and head into the drier and more vertical areas of the badlands your possibility of raising a bountiful corn crop lessen dramatically, so are your chances for a good rice harvest. And trying to run cattle there poses some unique problems as well. Cows don’t climb cliffs as well as bighorn sheep, say, and if they do by some chance get up one of those slopes the forget how to get down and normally wind up cascading down the hill with their udders in the air and end up badly. All of this contributes to a prejudice against places such as the badlands that don’t cooperate with, as Mr. Sagan used to say, Yuman Beings.

Places that seem hostile to Homo sapiens have always offered a challenge that must be overcome regardless of the value of the victory. It is a moral affront to some that there should be spots where people can’t easily live and they will go to any lengths to change that. Fortunately Mother Nature views these attempts with amusement and although she might allow things to go on for a while, her time schedule being different from ours, she will take a perverse delight in sending them packing just when it is most inconvenient for them.

The beauty of these places is only enhanced by its ability to create monumental displays of power and drama. This storm for instance, still in its infancy, will soon unleash incredible forces that at its whim can overcome any man-made constructs and never bat an eye. We see this as bad luck when this happens, but Mother Nature just goes about her business unaware that there have been people inconvenienced and rightly so. Why would folks pit themselves against what is surely a lost cause. Because there are always those who dwell in the murky depths where their vision is impaired and never float to the top of the gene pool. And because they apparently are working at a disadvantage they don’t always see things with the clarity of other brighter beings, and hence they are destined for failure. We call this tragedy, Mother Nature calls this weeding.

Sunset on the Wind River with a storm brewing is a wonderment to observe, however it makes good sense to take your picture and get over Togwotee Pass and on into Jackson as quick as you can and do not test Mother Nature. If you do reach the upper levels of the gene pool you have to keep paddling, because life is an IQ test, and its primarily pass/fail. Good luck.

Two Horns

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What we have here is a minor celebrity. Throughout the year there is a constant stream of movie makers, cinematographers, independents, and big names like Nat Geo and the boys from the BBC coming through the park filming, shooting stills, making commercials and generally utilizing the parks resources. Consequently they are in constant need of local talent to act as stand-ins, character actors, background, minor featured subjects, color and anything else that might come to mind.

They’re kind of picky as to who they choose and the casting people are  always looking for that fresh new face. You have to have a certain charisma to be chosen plus be photogenic of course. Two Horns has become the go to player if you want that quintessential buffalo look. Here’s a headshot he provided us where he’s in a commercial for a hair conditioner product. Unfortunately due to issues with a snotty New York Advertising Agency we can’t release the products name but you’ll know it when you see it. Always sought after he’s kind of like the Marlboro Man of buffalos. Rugged, laid back, cool, he looks like you’d want to look if you wanted to be a buffalo.

He has another string to his bow that makes him even more in demand. He is also a stunt buffalo. If you need a shot where a buffalo is running in the herd and gets shot and falls spectacularly, like ass over tea kettle as my grandma used to say, this is your man, or bull as it were. His specialty is the nose into the dirt with the slow slide and then almost in slow motion his hindquarters rise into the air and arc completely over his head until he lands on his back in a colossal cloud of dust and flops over dead on his side. Whoa, it is bitchin’. He can also keep his eyes open in the middle of all that action and dust flying around for the close-up they need to show he really looks dead. It’s pretty incredible. They say he is a natural. That shot was used in the hunting scene in ‘Dances With Wolves’. Costner flew him all the way out to the Dakotas in his private jet just for that stunt.

He ‘s been in steady demand lately and has built up a rep for being punctual, knowing his lines and being willing to reshoot the falling scene until they get it right. As a result he has built up a substantial supply of new cut grass hay which is kept in a fenced off area that only he and the occasional cow that may accompany him has access to. Since the park makes money by collecting their cut in the way of commercial permits that they require from the film makers they want to keep him happy as well. He doesn’t have to worry about having to leave the park in the winter when the snow gets up to his hangy down parts like the other guys, he has his own quarters just off Old Faithful and can be seen standing next to the fountain posing for tourists once in a while. If you’re really lucky he will put a hoof print in your autograph book, if you’re a jerk and try to set your kid on his back for a picture he will put it between your shoulder blades. He’s still a wild buffalo after all.

Supper time

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Home in time for supper. Lots of times that isn’t the case. The work takes as long as it takes and that can mean working well into the evening and that can mean missing supper. In the fall there’s more than enough work and it all has to get done or else the winter is going to be a lot tougher than it should be. Hay has to come in, firewood needs to get cut, there’s even that elk that has to get in the freezer or else there ‘ll be a lot of rabbit or maybe squirrel served and a man does get mighty tired of squirrel.

But towards the end of harvest things slowly get done. The days get shorter, the sun seems to be a little more golden at day’s end and it is easier to get home in time for the evening meal. The kids are a littler quieter because it’s kinda strange to have dad home this early and they haven’t figured out if it’s ok to be themselves or if they need to behave a little. The littlest, the one the others call Squally, doesn’t care and sets the tone by yelling and demanding to be picked up. Dad does and tosses him in the air and that’s the signal for the rest to cut loose. Mom’s pretty happy too, it’s nice to have them all together, it makes the effort of feeding everybody worth all her hard work. Soon as supper’s over and the kids have the dishes done it’s time for a story by the fireplace. Dad’s telling about that six point bull that wouldn’t quite come out of the brush enough for him to take a shot, but it doesn’t matter because everybody knows a cow is better eating.

Then it’s off to bed for everybody, there’s school tomorrow and mom and dad need some quiet time. Tomorrows another day.

Big Red Bears Little White Grubs

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Bears will do some pretty disgusting stuff. Especially big red bears who have an audience. When a bear is sighted in Yellowstone there is a signal sent out that when viewed from above looks like one of those old movie shots of an atomic explosion. The one where there is a ever-growing circle of dust and debris and destruction that heads out in all directions, faster and faster. Trees fall down, houses come apart and there is chaos of the supreme kind. That’s what its like when someone yells bear.

If there is a bear sighted on the Madison for instance people clear up in the Lamar valley eighty miles away will know about it in moments and break every known speed limit to get there before the bear is gone. Soon of course every human in Yellowstone is at the scene yelling, pointing, trying to sneak closer to get a better view, shooting their flash off when they’re several hundred yards away, arguing with the rangers and generally causing severe damage to interspecies cooperation.

Some bears simply can not handle that kind of craziness and haul their large furry butts off into the trees, but some bears relish the attention, and some like this big red one who is actually called a cinnamon bear because it sounds more scientific than just saying red, will stick around and put on a show. Not like walking on giant beach balls or wearing pointy party hats, that kind of stuff but everyday bear stuff.  Checking things out, sniffing tree branches which is kind of like reading the newspaper for them, flipping over rocks to see what’s under there, posing to show off how butch it is, and ripping open logs to find grubs. Grubs of course are the disgusting part, but bears like them. They like to eat them actually and consider it a great success when they tear open a log and find what they constantly seek, grub heaven.

To those unaccustomed to eating grubs this seems to be gross. And the more of those fatty, juicy, pop in your mouth treats the bear eats the grosser it is. And if the bear then chews with his mouth open that is like totally gross and usually sends the weaker stomachs staggering back to the mini-van. Of course, bears know this and they love it. If they can pack several dozen grubs into their mouth and then face the crowd, chewing with their mouth open they’re ecstatic. Kids love it too, if it grosses the Geezoids out that makes the whole trip. There will be endless miles where they’ll be reviewing just how gross it was in exacting detail and wasn’t it cool that it made mom sick. The bear will probably being doing the same thing when it gets down to the old Missing Tourist pub that night and the stories start.

I was going to photograph the open mouth chewing part for the blog but it was just too gross. As much as I like to bring realism to the stories that appear on this page we do have some standards here. But if you kids out there want to send in five dollars in plain unmarked bills I’d be happy to send you some of the out-takes. Just put ‘Gross out Grubs’ in the subject line.

Disclaimer: NO one between the age of 6 mos. and 111 may order unless a signed notarized affidavit from the ‘Standards of Decency Committee’ in your community accompanies your order. No exceptions.

Snake River Cruiser

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Standing on the banks of the Snake river waiting for something to happen is a pleasant way to spend an afternoon. Its quiet here, the river here is flat, slow and lazy as it forms a big sweeping bend through the pines on its way downstream. The surface is a sheet of glass, mirroring everything above it without a ripple to mar it’s surface. Over near the bank a family of mergansers are squabbling, and soon one takes off in a running pattern across the rivers surface, head outstretched, each foot leaving a small splash as it tries to gain speed for its takeoff.

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Occasionally a trout will jump for a fly but its short lived time spent in another dimension is soon over and it returns to it’s element with nothing to show for its effort but a series of slowly spreading rings that ripple in the sunlight. The river murmurs as the rings reach the bank and send little waves against the moist earth while stems of grass leaning into the water bend slowly and rhythmically with each wave.

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Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere a Bald Eagle soars slowly around the bend nonchalantly cruising above the river. It slowly flaps it’s wings but mostly glides watching intently for that shadow moving just below the surface. Sometimes you can hear the wind moving through the feathers of it’s wings but not today. Today it is silent. The trout that so recently leapt into the air makes a fatal mistake and moves too close to the surface, it’s dorsal fin breaking through and giving itself away to the hunter above. One quick dive, talons open, the eagle makes contact with the surface, and the fish and it is all over. It leaps back into the air, it’s catch firmly grasped as the hunter wings it’s way to the big pine on the river’s bank.

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Many times these small acts of nature are the biggest part of your day and leave the longest lasting memories.This scene was not only captured by the camera it was indelibly etched into my memories and will surface during quiet times to be enjoyed over and over.