MOOSE STORIES
Photo Courtesy Vic Van Ballenberghe
The Ghost Moose The Horse Who Loved Moose
Olympic Moose on the Loose A Moose is a Moose is a Moose
Moose Hunter Stumbles Into Case of Mistaken Identity
Moose Morris, the Ice Dancer
Christmas 2004
Written by Hazel Booth
Pictures by Matt Schenck and Hazel Booth.
“Home” as it has been known for many years has been back in Ottawa. Now, home for me is in the Yukon. Christmas was going to be different this year. For the first time ever, I was not working on Christmas day, nor was I going back to Ottawa to be with my family. This was also to be my first Christmas with a relatively new, but very important person in my life: boyfriend Matt Schenck. My brother, Grant, intrigued by my stories of Canada’s Yukon, recently moved up to the Yukon to check it out for himself. I was looking forward to experiencing a true Yukon Christmas. We had made arrangements to stay at a cabin in the Haines Pass for a few nights. The Haines area is a gorgeous area along the edge of Kluane National Park. Mountains and lakes galore, a winter wonderland it is.
Christmas Eve, Matt, Grant, and I went to a house party and enjoyed the company of some good friends. A little too much eggnog, we were a bit later than anticipated getting out of bed on Christmas Day. Matt seemed a bit quiet Christmas day, and I learned he was having second thoughts about heading out to the cabin. He wondered if we shouldn’t just stay around Whitehorse and do some skiing and skating around the Whitehorse area for our holidays. My heart sunk. I tried to listen and understand, but I was disappointed. To me, it seemed we could do those things anytime. I was really looking forward to going to the cabin. Matt saw the disappointment on my face, reached over touched my face and kissed me. We were going to the cabin!
Matt’s friend Sean MacKinnon was going to join us for the cabin adventures as well. The four of us crammed into Sean’s little truck. Gear was jammed in every little nook of the back of the truck as well as the snowboard and skies on top of the truck. We left Whitehorse late that afternoon, just as it was starting to get dark. The roads were greasy, really greasy because of the warm weather just a few days earlier. We stopped to help at the scene of a car that went off the road and landed on its roof. We planned to get gas in Haines Junction; however, because it was Christmas day, every gas station in town was closed. It would be rather stupid of us to continue on to the cabin without a full tank of gas. Running out of gas on the Haines Road would not be a good thing in minus 30 degree weather.
Matt had an idea to go as far as Kathleen lake. There is a day- use cabin at Kathleen lake, but the cabin isn’t locked and has a woodstove. We could stay there for the night and double back to Haines Junction in the morning to get gas. Off we headed to the Kathleen lake cabin. We arrived and settled in. Woodstove roaring, we made Christmas dinner. No turkey for us, but rather a fondue of caribou, sheep, and buffalo meat. It was so yummy! Of course, a chocolate fondue for dessert, and our favourite winter camping beverage: Fireball.
Feeling over stuffed with food, we needed to go for a walk after dinner. We headed out around the lake. The night was cold, very cold. The lake seemed unsettled. The lake seemed to have indigestion. It gurgled and groaned, sounding exactly like a stomach digesting food. I’ve never heard anything like it.
Boxing day, Sean headed back to Haines Junction to fill the truck with gas. Meanwhile Matt, Grant, and I prepared breakfast. Sean returned with news from the outside world: a tsunami had hit many South-East Asian countries and thousands of people were dead. It seemed surreal.
Matt and Sean had heard of some ice climbing at the far end of Kathleen lake and were interested in trying to find it, so we decided to spend the day at Kathleen lake and head out to the cabin in the early evening.
Last year, a local community member from Teslin, Doug Smarch, made some homemade snowshoes for me. Another community member from Teslin, Margaret Douville, made me some mukluk’s for the snowshoes. I was anxious to try them out. Grant had some modern snowshoes. Matt and Sean decided to ski and pull the ice climbing gear in toboggans. Off we went across the frozen lake. It was about minus 22 degrees that day.
About an hour across the lake, Grant called out to me, “Hey, Hazel, are moose supposed to be in the water this time of year?” I wasn’t sure what the answer was. He pointed to what he thought was a moose. It looked like a rock to me. But then, the rock moved. Bizarre, it didn’t look like a moose though. As we approached we quickly realized the moose had fallen through the lake. There had been an avalanche in the area which weakened the ice.
Cautiously, we approached the moose to see what was wrong. We weren’t sure if the moose was going to stand up and charge at us or what. Quickly, we came to realize we were in no danger at all. The moose was stuck in the ice and was shivering uncontrollably. The moose was exhausted. There was a horseshoe shaped path through the ice where clearly the moose had struggled to try and paw its way out. Clearly, she wasn’t much of an ice dancer. Covered in ice, she sounded like a Christmas tree. It was so sad. She was helpless and was going to die. Helpless as we felt, we decided we needed to try something to help this moose, but what could we do?
We tried yelling at the moose, to give it a final scare to try to get out. It didn’t work. We chipped away at some of the ice around the moose with ski poles. It didn’t work. We thought, well, she just needs a little energy. I ran back to the sled and grabbed my curried tuna wrap. Matt tried to feed it to her. She wouldn’t eat it. Perhaps she just wasn’t big on curried tuna? She wouldn’t eat a bagel or trail mix either.
Next, we ran back to the toboggans again. We grabbed the rope that Matt and Sean had brought for ice climbing and tied it loosely around her neck. We pulled, but it didn’t work. In fact, my heart sunk as Morris lost her leverage and sunk deeper into the water. She was going under. We had made it worse. I felt nauseated. We kept constant tension on the rope to keep her head afloat. Matt and Sean had the idea to set up a crevasse pulley system that would give us a 4 to 1 mechanical advantage. The closest ice that would hold the ice screws was about 50 metres away. Sean hurried to set up the pulley system, while Matt and I kept constant tension on the rope around Morris’ head to keep her from sinking under the ice. We also worked to position the rope in a safer place around Morris. It was a bit of a challenge to get the rope through the ice cold water and under her shoulders.
Next, Grant took over at Morris’ side. He put her in a headlock. As Grant would say, he was “cheek to cheek and eye to eye with the moose”. Morris pushed against Grant and they both used the side of the mountain as leverage while Matt, Sean, and I pulled on the rope. Morris didn’t resist, nor did she help.
Slowly we pulled her up out of the water and about a metre from where she fell in the ice. WE DID IT! Morris was out of the water.
Now what were we going to do with this moose that was lying on the ice shivering?
It just seemed to come together. We put Matt’s very expensive fancy tarp over her and we all worked to build a shelter from the wind out of snow. We also worked to gather firewood to build a fire in the shelter to warm her. We had warm water in Nalgene bottles in our packs, so we also pried open her mouth and dumped the warm water down her throat. We massaged the muscles in her hind legs. We pulled ice off her fur. We worked for hours trying to warm Morris the moose.
Careful as we were, while we were working, Matt fell through the ice. He fell in Morris’ hole up to his waist. He quickly used his arms to pull himself out. I was next to fall through the ice. I was carrying a big boulder over for the snow fort. It must have been a bit too heavy, as my right foot slipped through the ice up to my knee. Sean was next to have his foot slip through the ice. We kept teasing Grant, that he was next, afterall, 4 out of 5 (including Morris) of us had gone through the ice already.
Morris just lay there, turning her head every once in a while to get a better look at us, much like a pet dog lazing around the fire. It was quite bizarre. Often we forgot she was even there, then all of a sudden one of us would giggle and say “um, is that a moose right there?”
About 6 or 7 pm, Morris was starting to perk up. She was paying more attention to her surroundings. She even started to drool. At one point she tried to stand up, but fell down again. It was kind of funny, as the way she fell; her butt was almost on the fire. We aren’t sure if this was coincidental or if Morris moved purposefully in order to warm her behind! At this point, we were starting to get cold and hungry ourselves. We didn’t know what else we could do for Morris. We put the snowshoes and skies on, and headed back towards camp in the dark. By the time we got back, we were all too tired to try and find the cabin we were planning to go to, so decided just to stay where we were another night. Plus, we wanted to check on Morris in the morning.
The next day, we headed out to find Morris and try to find the ice climbing location once again. We were all very quiet, without words, and anxious about what we would find. Would Morris be there? Would she have fallen through the ice again, and we would have to pull her out again? Would we find her dead? As we approached the scene from the day before, we peered over the wall of the snow shelter. She was gone! One wall of the snow fort was broken. The remnants of the fire and 2 untouched bagels were left behind.
Wow! What a feeling. We were ecstatic. I couldn’t help but throw my arms around Sean who happened to be standing next to me. Grant and Matt were already out there following the tracks. Grant, eyes of Legolas, found her a couple of hundred metres away in the first bush she could find shelter in. She was standing initially, but then fell down. We were pleased to see that she had been eating some of the willows and there was moose poop and pee in the snow. Morris was looking so much stronger. It was great to see. Still, it did not bother her that we approached her. We decided to leave her be and check on her on our way back.
We continued across the lake in search of the ice climb. It was a beautiful day, alright.
We never did find the ice climb, but on our way back in the late afternoon, we stopped to check on Morris again. This time she was standing and a bit more cautious about us being there. Interestingly, Morris would not let Matt, Sean or I go closer than a few metres. Grant, the one who had been “cheek to cheek and eye to eye” with Morris, however, put his hand out. Morris slowly brought his nose down and briefly touched Grant’s hand, as if to say, “Hey, man, thanks”. It was a pretty darn kewl thing to see.
We couldn’t help but stand around and have a bit of a chat with Morris. We told her not to worry, that falling through the ice could have happened to anyone. We warned her though, that she was going to need to work on her ‘look’ a bit more, as her friends were going to know what happened if they took one look at her. Especially, given she still sounded like a Christmas tree with every move she made. We also gave her a little bit of warning that people in colourful clothing were ok, but to be careful around those not so colourful.
I think we all half expected Morris to follow us back to camp. I know I caught myself looking behind me every once in awhile. We all hope Morris is doing just fine out there.
The lake was quiet that night, no gurgles; the indigestion seemed to have cleared.
With only one night left of our holidays, we headed out to try and find the cabin we originally set out for. The road was pure ice, the wind was blowing. The road was closed. It was a whiteout. We couldn’t find the cabin. We ended up staying at this tiny, tiny old green cabin at the side of the road. When we awoke in the morning, there was a good 2 feet of snow that had come through the crack of the door. It was a cold night that night. The drive back to Whitehorse was insane. Huge snowdrifts, poor visibility, giant winds, and icy roads. T’was great though. I loved it.
What a great Christmas adventure. I don’t think it could get anymore Yukon-y than that.
MOOSE
HUNTER STUMBLES INTO CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY
The end of another long day of hunting, the weather is perfect, the clean smell of late fall in the air. As the sun sets past the horizon, I checked my watch-less than five minutes remain for hunting.
As I walk toward my truck, there it is! What a rack, this is it! Very carefully I take deadly aim and fire. The moose whirls and disappears.
I run to the spot, but the moose in gone. The signs were there that my bullet had gone true, but now time was up and darkness sets in. I followed the tracks through the now but it is too dark. I must come back at daybreak.
The next morning as the first rays of light appeared, I picked up where I left off the night before. After about half an hour of searching, there he was, lying in the open, stone dead. Walking up to the moose I could not help but wonder ho his rack seemed so much bigger in the dying light of the night before. Strange, I thought.
Setting my rifle down and taking out my knife, I walked up to him and gave him a kick in the stomach to see if he was bloated yet. To my astonishment, the moose jumped up and now I was toe-to-toe with this huge animal for what seemed to be an eternity. I just stood frozen in fear of what might happen next. Then the moose turned and was gone.
After about half an hour of sitting on a windfall, I managed to stop shaking and retrieved my rifle. How could this happen? The moose seemed quite dead, but wasn’t. A check revealed no blood in its bed. Why?
Searching around for answers, I saw another moose with huge antlers lying down. I raised my rifle but there was no movement. I saw the telltale trail of blood and the huge rack. This was the moose of the night before. And yes, he was quite dead.
Sitting there in silence, I realized that I actually walked up to a healthy, sleeping bull moose and kicking him in the stomach.
By J.J. Cannon, Thunder Bay, Ontario, from the “Tall Tales of Hunting” – The Chronicle Journal reprinted by permission of The Moose Call
Or,
How Many Kinds of Moose are There, Anyway?
Whenever hunters gather, talk usually turns to hunting experiences—and for moose hunters, that means tales of adventure in what to many is the ‘far north lands’ of Alaska, Canada and the northern United States. And when talk turns to the giant among the deer family, the moose, experts agree: the is just one species that occurs around the northern hemisphere, from Scandinavia and central Europe across northern Asia and North America from coast to coast between 40o and 72o north latitude. Following scientific convention, the binomial (two-part) name (family and species) is Alces alces. In simple terms, this name conveys certain information: moose are so similar in their biology and behavior that they can interbreed and produce fertile offspring.
But, what about the differences? Because there are differences—differences in size and coloration and antler shape and other features that are characteristic of moose that originated in different areas, enabling scientists and hunters looking at a moose to confidently say that this animal came from a particular area. These kinds of differences are significant, and allow scientists to classify moose still further, using a third name to designate subspecies—populations that have some degree of breeding isolation (usually maintained by geographic separation from other populations).
To understand the thinking behind the various subspecies of moose, you must understand three interacting principles. The first principle is that the place where animals live shapes their appearance. As one example of this, the largest moose are found at about 65o north latitude, the point at which sufficient food exists to develop large bodies, which in turn optimize the ability of moose to live in cold continental climates. Further north, moose are smaller, unable to reach maximum potential size because of limitations on food supply and long winters; further south, increasing warmth requires that the ratio between skin surface and body weight limits how large moose can become without overheating during the warmest months.
The second principle is this: the potential for a moose to fundamentally alter its body form is genetically controlled. Genetic change occurs very slowly, but it does occur. Populations that are isolated from one another change over time, and they change in different ways, a process known as genetic drift. Over a very long period of time, isolated populations may become so different that they can no longer interbreed, and thus become separate species. So, genetic isolation is an important factor in recognizing subpopulations.
Finally, the third principal is that moose have already been changing for millions of years. The kinds of moose alive today are only a small subset of many other forms that have developed and have already become extinct. Knowledge of these earlier forms from fossils can help scientists identify the history of today’s forms.
Taking these principles into account, scientists generally agree that there are six subspecies of moose in the world, and four subspecies of moose in North America. Moose originated in southern Europe. According to Anthony Bubenik (in Ecology and Management of the North American Moose,1998, Smithsonian Press), ancestral moose originated in central Europe about 2 million years ago, during the late Pliocene ro middle Pleistocene Period. Over subsequent millennia, moose populations moved northward into northern Europe and Scandinavia, and east across Siberia as Ice Ages and interglacial periods alternately covered the land with ice and snow and retreated. According to Kenneth Whitehead (The Whitehead Encyclopedia of Deer, 1993, Swan Hill Press), two subspecies of moose remain in the Old World:
1. the European moose (Alces alces alces, found in northern Europe, Scandinavia, and across northern Russia to the Siberian steppe, and
2. the Siberian moose (Alces alces cameloides), which occurs across the Siberian steppe and northern Mongolia to the Kamchatka Peninsula and the Pacific Ocean.
Dr. Bubenik indicated that moose reached Alaska via the Bering Strait in several different waves of colonization, as Ice Ages waxed and waned 10,000 to 14,000 years ago. Well after moose colonized North America, advancing glaciers forced them far south of their current ranges, into ‘refuges’ in what is now the central eastern United States, the central Great Plains region, and the central Rocky Mountains. Over the past 10,000 years, a generally warming climate has allowed these genetically isolated refuge populations to expand their range northward, giving rise to four more subspecies, according to both Dr. Bubenik and Whitehead:
3. the Eastern, Taiga, or American moose (Alces alces americana) in the eastern United States and Canada as far west as the Great Lakes Region,
4. the Canadian, Northwestern, or Western moose (Alces alces andersonii), from whose range extends from the Great Lakes region to the Mackenzie River and southeast Alaska;
5. the Shira’s, Shiras, or Yellowstone moose (Alces alces shirasi)of the Rocky Mountains and northward in southeastern Alberta and southwestern British Columbia; and
6. the largest of all, the Alaska/Yukon or Tundra moose (Alces alces gigas) of Alaska and Canada’s Yukon Territory and the Mackenzie Mountains of the Northwest Territories.
Even more recently, Valerius Geist (Deer of the World: Their Evolution, Behavior, and Ecology, 1998, Stackpole Books), reviewed all of the scientific literature and taxonomy, and came to the conclusion that the geologically brief separation of moose during recent glaciations was insufficient to separate moose into four subspecies, particularly since ranges of all four now merge with at least one neighboring species, allowing genetic interchange. He recommended that all North American moose be called a single subspecies, Alces alces americanus.
So
what does all this mean to hunters? Probably,
very little. Stalking giant moose
on the Alaska tundra is a hugely different experience than hunting moose in the
vast forest and lake ecosystems of eastern Canada, and different still from
searching for Shira’s moose in the rugged Rocky Mountains.
Sportsmen’s organizations that record the size of moose harvested as
trophies generally recognize the six subspecies listed here.
The oldest, the Boone and Crockett Club, recognizes only three categories
for record-keeping purposes (the Eastern and Western Canada moose are combined,
since they intergrade over a broad boundary), while Safari Club International
recognizes all four subspecies listed. And
while some have advocated defining still more subspecies, such a move is
unlikely. Modern scientific methods
have shown that moose are even more closely related than thought, and that most
of the differences are simply the result of local differences in the animal’s
environment.
World-class athletes weren’t the only amazing physical specimens on display at the winter Olympics in Salt Lake City, Utah.
According to a report in the Seattle Times, German luger, Georg Hackl was dining and admiring the scenery above Park City when he noticed some huge boulders on an official ski course. Much to his surprise, those “boulders” stood up and walked away offering the Olympian a first-hand look at North America’s largest ungulate. Moose truly were on the loose at the Salt Lake City Olympics!
By Dr Vince Crichton, Wildlife Biologist
1046 McIvor Ave. Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, R2G2J9
Research
into moose ticks over the last 15 years has shed new light on those
“creepy-crawlies” and we now know they are the cause of the so-called
“ghost moose” phenomenon.
Ghost
moose appear in most jurisdictions during late winter when, due to irritation,
moose rub their bodies to relieve skin irritation and in doing so break the hair
shaft, exposing the white base portion of the shaft. That scratching action
gives an animal a whitish-gray appearance. In worst-case scenarios, when
thousands upon thousands of ticks may be found on a single animal, infestations
may lead to mortality.
The
tick in question are actually moose ticks Dermacentor
albipictus (also called winter ticks) not the common wood tick Dermacentor
variabilis. The wood tick is a two-host tick and requires two hosts to
complete its lifecycle. The moose tick requires just one host. That host is
usually ol’ Bullwinkle, however moose ticks also occur on caribou, elk and
deer, usually in lesser numbers. It’s interesting to note that moose ticks
have not been documented on Alaska moose and only on small numbers of moose in
the southern Yukon.
Hair
loss due to ticks commences in late January and gets progressively worse as
winter proceeds. Some animals may lose up to 90 percent of their hair coat.
Normally, little mortality is associated with this loss. However, in years when
environmental conditions are conducive, tick levels may build to excessive
numbers and the result is a moose die-off that may exceed 25 percent of the
herd. For example, in Manitoba during the winter of 1987-88 about 25 percent of
the Turtle and Riding Mountain herds died and ticks played a major role in that
mortality.
Tick
abundance and the problems associated with them vary from year to year, an event
that’s directly related to environmental conditions. Male and female ticks
infest moose, but males fall off and die shortly after completing the mating
act. Female ticks enjoy a winter blood meal, then fall to the ground in late
March and April. If they come to rest on snow, there is a high tick mortality.
However, when spring weather is warm and the snow disappears early, female ticks
fall onto warm ground and lay a few thousand eggs. The eggs hatch into seed
ticks in early August and as the cool days of fall approach they become more
active and ascend grasses and other vegetation. When moose brush against
vegetation, larval ticks attach to the big animals and an over-winter,
development period commences. Ticks like to nestle in a moose’s thick hair
(away from the cold) and do so until spring, feeding and maturing the entire
time. The peak of transmission during fall takes place in October, after which
cold weather puts an end to those little rust-colored devils, which measure
about the size of a pinhead. When fall weather conditions are summer-like (i.e.
warm and no snow) the transmission period can extend into November. Therefore
with warm springs and open falls, conditions are excellent for ticks and we can
be sure that the following spring there will be many reports of “ghost
moose.” Think of it this way: springs with snow in April are good for moose
and spring skiing!
When
conditions are prime for ticks, they can attach to moose in staggering numbers,
as indicated by current study of Manitoba’s herd. Prior to the 1988-89 winter
actual tick counts were never conducted in Manitoba. However, since that time,
due to the interest of Dr. Bill Samuel from the University of Alberta, we have
counted ticks on 20 moose hides. The average number found on adult males is
29,464. Adult females carried 39,675 and calves were afflicted by 52,993 ticks.
The greatest number found on any of the hides was 97,704 from a bull taken west
of The Pas in northwestern Manitoba. It is the writer’s opinion, that moose
can have tick loads approaching 200,000. It is interesting to note that Dr.
Samuel has counted 420,00 ticks on a caribou
from Alberta.
Calves
are especially hard hit by ticks and most moose found dead due to tick
infestations are young calves born the previous spring. Dr. Samuel suggests that
tick loads of 40,000 or 50,000 may cause harm to animals, obviously as a
discomfort, but in other ways, too. For instance, “ticky moose” spend a
significant portion of their time scratching, shaking and rubbing to rid
themselves of those little demons. That effort results in loss of hair in large
patches, which changes the lower critical temperature where a moose can survive
from minus-35 degrees Celsius to five-degrees Celsius. Moose that harbor hides
in poor condition may suffer from rain and wind, which results in hypothermia
and, eventually, a dead moose.
In
some animals a borderline anemia may result from ticks, which suggests that the
animal's basic physiology is affected. Experimental animals infected with ticks
are unable to maintain weight, even when fed respectable diets. They perform
poorly when compared to control animals with no ticks. Moose infected with ticks
may survive the spring period only to die later on in the summer from
infections, such as pneumonia, contracted when an animal was in a weakened
condition.
Moose
may be their own worst enemies when it comes to accommodating ticks; research
shows that some moose have traditional spring and fall bedding sites and they
are one and the same. Those dry, grassy “bedding” areas are the very places
that seed ticks thrive, especially during years of average moisture conditions
throughout the summer. If a moose sheds 25-to-30 engorged female ticks every
time it beds down in the spring be sure there will be plenty of ticks waiting in
the fall. At about 7,000 eggs per female tick, there is the potential of nearly
200,000 ticks for every 25-to-30 that drop off and survive. When a moose returns
to the area during fall and beds, it will likely endure a heavy tick infection.
While tick infestations will continue to haunt moose in future years and cause some mortality, look at the bright side – moose watchers will continue to hiss, “ghost moose,” when one of those albino-like animals steps out of the deep woods and biologists assure that ticks pose no threat to the edibility of moose meat. Hunters may breathe a collective sigh of relief.
BY: Mark Hinschberger, Wildlife Biologist
Dubois, Wyoming
In 1978, I was working as a seasonal Forest Service employee on the Gros Ventre Ranger District of the Bridger-Teton National Forest. My partner, Bill Long, a Wyoming Game and Fish Department seasonal employee, and I were the current two "elk trackers" working on the fifth year of a six year Gros Ventre Cooperative Elk-Logging Study. We located radio-marked elk everyday from May to November. This research involved much travel on horseback. We each had two horses for this work. My horses were Forest Service stock, while the WG&F Department leased the horses Bill used.
Since this was first year for both of us on this study, our supervisors arranged to have previous employees on the study go with us our first several times into the back country to "show us the ropes". I remember Kent Schmidlin on one of those trips told me that "Fescue" liked moose. Now Fescue was a chestnut colored gelding quarter horse that was very long coupled and was not afraid of anything. Grouse flushing near him, gun shots nearby or next to him, other horses spooking, or elk recovering from being captured and radio-collared did not frighten him.
I had the opportunity to experience what Kent meant when he said that "Fescue likes Moose" in early October of 1978. I was riding Fescue that cool fall day. I was coming down off St. John's Overlook, a good spot to receive radio signals from elk both in Purdy Basin to the south and the Sheridan Trail area in Squaw Creek to the north, headed back for our camp at the mouth of Beauty Park Creek. The trail off St. John's Overlook takes one down Squaw Creek through both Burnt and Open Forks of Squaw Creek. At a point in the trail between these two Forks, Fescue and I encountered a bull and three cow moose. They were in the vicinity of the trail and at this point there was no room or opportunity to get around them. The bull appeared to be agitated by our presence and the cows were indifferent. Fescue and I started down through them, assuming that they would move off and out of the way. As we approached, the bull became more upset and appeared that he wanted to charge. Not wanting this to happen, I turned Fescue towards the bull and made him charge the bull to try and drive the moose back or off. The bull moose retreated and got out of our way. What happened next, I will never forget.
As Fescue and I headed down the trail, with the bull moose off in the willows grunting and taking his frustration out on the willows, the three cows were traveling down the trail immediately next to Fescue and I. We had one on our left and two on our right. The moose were so close; I could reach out and touch them from my position in the saddle on Fescue. Fescue was all "puffed up" and almost prancing as we headed down the trail. These three cow moose followed us along the trail for almost a hundred yards as the bull, still displeased with current events and working over the willow bushes, followed along off to the side. I think that Fescue thought that he had just won the lotto, by the way that he was walking and behaving. He had three ladies and was in seventh heaven. The cow moose finally began to figure something wasn't right with this situation and slowly veered off from Fescue and I and entered into the willow off of the trail. Fescue looked back and whinnied as if to say, "what's wrong". His stride and gait changed back to what is was before we encountered the moose and we headed for camp.
Habitat Use and Population Dynamics of Shira’s Moose in Northwest Wyoming
Over the past ten to fifteen years, declining calf:cow ratios and population trend counts suggest a significant reduction in the north Jackson moose herd. To identify potential causes for the decline, investigations were initiated in 2004 and continued in 2005 to assess adult survival, calf recruitment, and moose habitat use patterns.
Joel Berger (Wildlife Conservation Society) studied adult female moose in Grand Teton National Park (GTNP) and adjacent regions of the Bridger-Teton National Forest for the past 10 years. He reported detrimental browsing in this region due to relatively high moose densities in 1998 and found calf survival in GTNP was high compared to areas further north with higher predator densities. In January 2005, a graduate student from the University of Wyoming was selected to continue work on population dynamics and habitat use of Shira’s moose in the Buffalo Valley area of northwest Wyoming. Project objectives include examining adult fitness (survival rates, presence of pathogens, physiological health parameters, pregnancy rates, and parturition), calf recruitment, and habitat use patterns including moose activity relative to highway structures.
Capture efforts were initiated in February 2005. Twenty adult females were fit with GPS radio transmitters and 27 adult males were fit with VHF radio transmitters. In addition to the 47 that we captured, 18 moose from Joel Berger’s study are also being monitored. Since the February capture effort, there have been 5 mortalities (2 males, 3 females), two of which were confirmed capture related mortalities (both males), one possible capture related mortality, one confirmed mountain lion kill that was then scavenged by wolves, and another mortality that was unconfirmed but predator sign at the site suggest potential wolf predation.
In February 2006, the 20 adult females carrying GPS transmitters will be recaptured to download location data and to collect physiological data so comparisons can be made between 2005 and 2006. Monitoring will continue through 1 March 2007 when the transmitters are scheduled to drop-off. Final analysis of the data will begin shortly thereafter.
Contact: Scott Becker, Department of Zoology and Physiology, UW Cooperative Research Unit, University of Wyoming, Department 3166, 1000 E. University Avenue, Laramie, WY 82071 Email: sbecker@uwyo.edu
Photos of capture efforts used with permission by: Mark Gocke, Wyoming Game and Fish Dept.
Copyright © 2001-2008, North American Moose Foundation.