Tag Archives: West Yellowstone

A Glimpse Of The Past

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Spring has sprung, the grass has riz, I wonder where the eagles is. They is right there in Yellowstone in the Eagle tree off of Madison Junction road. Well at least they were until a big wind storm blew the nest down taking the tree with it. These eagle nests can get extraordinarily heavy. There was a nest down in Florida that was recorded at nearly 3 tons, that’s slightly more than a Cadillac Escalade balanced up there on those spindly little branches.

When the wind came through it caused the entire tree with it’s top-heavy nest to fall over and that was that for close up bald eagle viewing on a nest. The nest had been there in that tree in continual use, for the entire 12 years I had photographed in Yellowstone. It would often be my first stop as I entered the park from West Yellowstone, Montana in the morning, which is when I caught one of parents above shoving Gobbets of something freshly killed down juniors throat.

The eagles are still there in Yellowstone, they’re still building nests and filling them with eaglets, they’re just not doing it along side the road where you could stop and watch every aspect of their lives anymore. There were folks that would camp out at the 100 yard perimeter that the park naturalists put in place to protect the eagle viewing area from people approaching to close to the tree and disturbing the birds. They’d be there from early morning to the last light of sunset for days at a time to observe and learn bald eagle behavior.

This is nature at work, the tree was blown down, the eagles had to move on and build another nest somewhere else, and that part of the eagles exposure to bird lovers was done. Nobody’s fault. I’m just thankful I got to take as many photos as I did over the years. I still miss the nest not being there though.

A Little Open Space

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Some of you around the country have been thinking of writing in to complain about the weather and how you’ve been feeling confined and when’s it going to stop, etc., like I would know, and I sense your frustration. And as one of our great, but impeached, political leaders once said, “I feel your pain.”

Consequentially I have chosen to give you a little open space this morning. I know a lot of you have been cooped up and can’t get out doors to do the simplest things, like dump your litter box, or see if you can find your car under all that snow, or get away from that significant other who has been singing “The Spirit of New Orleans” for the last three days. It seems like a little relief is needed.

So OK then, rather than look for the shells for the 12 gauge, take a moment and reflect on this image of the north end of the Lamar valley looking up at Barronette Peak. Take a deep breath and smell the clean cool air of an early fall afternoon. The sun still has some warmth left and it feels good on your back. The grass, though yellowed and dry for the most part, still has enough life in it that the grazers can graze, and way off down there, past the drainage of Soda Butte creek, a small group of buffalo are settling in.

You have the whole place to yourself today because it’s too far North for the tourist busses to come and everyone else is down in the Hayden or over at Swan Lake flats looking for grizzlies before they head uphill for the winter. The grizzlies not the tourists. The tourists will be heading back to the Holiday Inn in West Yellowstone before it gets dark and scary out here.

If you wanted too, you could take off and just walk straight towards the mountains as long as you wanted to, just remember you have to walk back, so maybe just sitting on the boulder there and finishing off your thermos would be enough.

Well we all know that this isn’t as good as the real thing but hey, it’s better than listening to you know who sing. And as long as we’re on that subject, after you’ve had your fill of whatever serenity you can muster from viewing this special part of Yellowstone National Park, why don’t you go and tell you know who that you’ll let him out of the basement if he promises to stop singing. Maybe even show him this picture and fix him a nice hot cup of tea, and if that doesn’t work the shells for the shotgun are on the top shelf in the hall closet behind the Christmas decorations. Good luck.

Observations of a Wolf

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Wolves are a lot like you and me. When they’re out of regular wolf stuff to do, like running down a buffalo, or snarling at somebody who gets too close at the wrong time, or they’re out of sorts because their kid didn’t make the honor roll, but they’re not at that point where they have to go bite something, they find a quiet place to sit and think and  watch what other folks are doing.

That’s what Rodin is doing at the moment. He’s part of the Fishing Wolves* pack at the Wolf refuge in West Yellowstone and he’s already caught his rainbow for the day and got to eat the entire thing without having to share it with the alpha male. That’s a stroke of luck he hadn’t counted on because the alpha usually takes it away from him before he gets a chance to do much more than hold it in his mouth for a moment.

HIs stomach full and his work done for the moment, he gets to go to his favorite place, the high grass in the boulder field and watch what every one else is doing. The alpha is picking on another young wolf today, running him through his paces, teaching him who the bull duck in the pond is, or in this case who the alpha male is in the wolf pack. That cute young grey is looking at him again. He has to play it cool though so the alpha doesn’t notice. Since they’re in an enclosure it’s not like they can sneak away or anything and right now the thought of the beating he’ll get if he returns her interest doesn’t make him feel very amorous.

Stellar jays have been squawking over something, hopping from the lower branches to the ground and back up again, agitated enough it’s causing the pine cones to fall off the branches and rattle around on the ground. It’s drawing in the magpies who’ll make short work of running them off. Whatever it is it’s outside of the fence so it doesn’t affect him.

It’s a perfect day in the neighborhood. The sun’s out but because it’s mid-September it’s not too hot and the wind is just enough to move the grass back and forth a little. It feels good rubbing up against his side. If nobody notices he might just lay down for a nap, something he doesn’t get a chance to do very often. Maybe he’ll dream of running over the long rolling hills up in the Lamar or setting off with the young grey to find their own territory. After all, the skies the limit when you’re dreaming.

* http://www.bigshotsnow.com/2013/05/05/

Captive Beauty: Grey Wolf

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For those of you wanting to see a slavering, vicious, cold-hearted killing machine I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed. What we have here instead is a highly-intelligent, extremely social member of the grey wolf pack at the Grizzly and Wolf sanctuary in West Yellowstone, Montana.

This is a captive pack made up of individuals who for one reason or another cannot be returned to the wild. They’re kept in a large enclosure that as accurately represents the environment that they would be in if they were in the wild, as possible. Except for the fence that is. But in providing for these animals some compromises are made. It’s always a give and take deal in a situation like this. It would be nice if there were no fences but these are not domesticated animals and some things, like fences, are necessary for the well-being of both sides of the equation.

As I’ve noted before, my agenda here, if you want to call it that, is not to debate animals in captivity, whether it’s good, bad or indifferent, but to present those animals in a way that shows their strengths and character as well as their beauty. Which is why these posts are always titled “Captive Beauty.” And they are beautiful. When you view this wolf all you see is pure unadulterated wolf. No hidden additives, no tricks, no phoniness, just wolf. Look at the expression on its face. This guy enjoys being a wolf.

If you’re new to the blog or just want to see past posts of other captive beauties, just enter Captive Beauty into the search box at the top of the page and check them out.

Wolves Don’t Rap

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If you have ever been out in the wilderness and heard wolves howling you know immediately that they are crooners. These guys sing. We’re talking Sinatra, Dean Martin, Tony Bennett, Harry Connic Jr. They can hold a note. They have a soulful quality that once heard can never be forgotten.

I was shooting swans one evening down on the Yellowstone when from across the river a single wolf began to call, then another and another until the entire valley was filled with wolfsong. It was the most amazing sound I have ever heard and made my entire body break out in goose bumps. It was like hearing the best choir that could ever possibly be, only better. What do they sing about? I don’t know but whatever it is it works. You don’t need to know the words. Is it sad, or joyful or longing or wishful, yeah, the answer to that is, yeah it is.

This wolf is a resident of the Wolf Discovery Center in West Yellowstone, Mt. so his song is probably plaintive and filled with the desire to be running free, but that’s just me. It could be, where’s dinner, instead, but I doubt it. Wolves sing, Pekingese rap. I like singing.

Fishing Wolves

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This is a fishing wolf. Actually it is a captive gray wolf that lives at the Grizzly and Wolf Discovery Center in West Yellowstone, Montana. The pack members were born in captivity and can not be released back into the wild. Every effort is made to provide them with natural surroundings and as close to wild conditions as possible. To keep them engaged mentally they are provided with the ability to hunt their own food, but in a very special way.

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The staff brings in a barrel full of live trout and releases them into the stream that runs through the wolves enclosure. The trout range in size from 6-7″ up to 12″ or so. They immediately spread throughout the stream and it becomes very difficult to find them.

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As soon as the staff leaves the area the wolves begin the hunt. They start by walking along the bank and poking into the areas next to rocks and along the shore hoping to feel one with their paws. The fish are difficult to see and the wolves have to rely on touch. Their sense of smell doesn’t help them either and the hunt becomes a definite challenge for them.

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When the light is right and the fish are moving the wolves can sometimes see where the fish are. They spend quite a while standing very still and watching until they get a line on where they think the fish is.

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Then they do something I’ve never seen a wolf do in the wild. They plunge their heads completely under water hoping to catch the fish. I don’t know if they keep their eyes open while their heads are submerged or if they simply rely on luck to make contact. This happens over and over and they never seem to tire of it. Some of the wolves are better at this than others, keeping their heads under longer and sweeping it back and forth.

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The downside of this method is you sometimes get water in your ears.

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But you shake it off and go back to the hunt.

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Then just when it looks like they will never catch one, they do. Success at last. Keeping a good grip on the thrashing fish this wolf makes his way out of the stream.

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Catching one of the wily trout calls for a victory lap which also doubles as an opportunity to look for a place to eat his prize in peace.

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Having found his favorite place in the sun he settles down to enjoy his hard won meal. Surprisingly or maybe not, as wolves tend to be polite to each other, there is very little poaching by the other wolves. If they catch it, it’s theirs and they are left to finish it in peace.

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The others in the pack redouble their efforts now that they have seen how it’s done. This process will fill up the better part of a day until all or most of the wolves have caught their limit.