Yellowstone, Winter and Wolves, et al
Yellowstone draws us:
geologically, zoologically, spiritually,
Gaia there shows off with mountain and river and the geo-thermal,
and she shows off with a wealth of animals,
it’s all an extravaganza,
there animals are still true to their potential,
to their birthright,
to their souls,
to what bountiful food can do for those who graze on plants
and for those who hunt the grazers,
there they all have abundant space within which to live their stories,
late winter we make our way to this greatest of parks,
just as a massive snow storm hovers in expectation:
snow, wind, cold, ready to descend on us
but on their own schedules,
in Gardiner, Montana, at the edge of the Park,
previous snows linger on the slopes
of the mountains ranged around us,
not all white like a cover pulled over everything,
more like an artist using the white
to pull out contrasts,
evergreen trees texture and enhance the views,
wind and warmer realities down here allow patches of grasses
to draw elk and bison and pronghorn to come down and feed,
and maybe the wolves will follow?
our first excursion up into the Park
is blessed with opening acts of bison and elk
wandering, resting, dappling the landscape,
on a snowy ridge, a few pronghorn antelope
pose against the sky and our cameras ache to see and hold them,
further on we stop to see a frozen waterfall,
still blessed with a bit of visible dropping water,
nearby the waterfall
we marvel at where otters have slid down the hill,
the chutes of their purposeful play visible in the snow,
the next day we plan to leave just as light appears in the day,
for dawn is often when wolves are best seen,
our group of 11 adventurers drawn here
from Australia, Peru, Argentina, Denmark by way of New Hampshire,
and my wife and me from Kentucky, Tennessee, and now North Carolina,
our guides from growing up in the Park itself,
from western North Carolina, Oregon, Illinois,
all pulled here as if drawn to royalty embodied in the wolf,
a cousin of ours who still knows and lives the wild
from whence we came,
each wild animal a key to a lock we need to open,
yet the wolf is special,
we share some kind of mystical bond with them,
we are sympatico,
no wonder the dogs many love
trace their ancestry to the wolf,
two species intertwined for millennia,
they remember--we should, too,
I wonder how much that which is most human about us
is also of the wolf?
we hear of a wolf, 1229, spunky and herself,
full of play, spending an afternoon chasing ducks just for the fun of it,
running up to bison and "counting coup"
with a nip and an exuberant run-away,
the roads are snowy and plowed,
we stop for a few minutes at a pull-out,
then we get word of wolves spotted nearby:
"Pile back in the vans!"
a few minutes down the road and we pile back out,
wolves move on a distant hill, 2, no 3,
spotting scopes called into action,
so their movement, their play, can be seen and recorded,
they touch us in that primal space
from whence the urge to be here came,
we spot a fourth wolf, black and alone,
howling its presence, until it finds its mates,
blowing snow settles on us, visibility shortens,
we retreat for lunch to give the storm time to pass,
when we return to the plateau,
the wolves are there again!
as if they, too, took a break,
this time of year the dens do not hold them in place,
their stories evolve by the moment,
the rest of the day we still hope for wolves,
yet we also enjoy the animals that reveal themselves:
big horn sheep, coyotes, ducks, a bald eagle,
and just as we drop out of the Park,
a magnificent bull elk shows himself by the road
and allows us to capture his likeness,
an animal in its prime, with a 12 point rack,
a perfect coda for the day,
Wednesday opens with blustering flurries at -8 degrees:
just as we near the Park gate,
an excited "There's something moving!" comes from behind me in the van,
and our guide acts: quickly to the side of the road,
people and scopes out, quiet urged,
and there before us, wolves!
first 1, then 2, then 3, all a-mingling together,
till a lone black wolf approaches,
and that presence is not accepted,
a chase ensues, and we are gifted
with a swirling social dynamic, 7 wolves total,
all about establishing and confirming relationships,
there is grandness in the movements before us,
and subtlety in all the nuances and meaning,
how can the group survive?
who can be part of "us"
and who is a "them" to exclude?
bitter wind assaults us
as we savor what our unaided eyes can see,
helped by the close-ups from scope and iPhone recording,
one wolf, excluded and ostracized, hunkers down near the road,
while the Lupen Valley pack organizes itself on the slopes
and beds down just over the ridge,
we leave and climb up into the Park,
we stop to savor some bison in the snow,
stop and gaze to see what's there at Blacktail Pond
where we first saw wolves the day before,
a fox reveals itself further on,
into the Lamar Valley snow swirls harder and harder,
the road more a hint than a helpful friend,
we wonder about turning around, for the place seems against us,
then hope prevails, distance reappears,
the Sun asserts itself, and all our moods brighten,
the world enlarges and glory shines bright,
the scopes find a golden eagle,
later 3 coyotes lope across a snowfield below us,
4 magnificent bison hide from the wind in a sheltered cover
and allow us to photograph them,
we stop where a ben den is,
and we wonder at its story,
no more wolves reveal themselves to us today,
except in our words, our musings, our questions,
our worry that too many fear the wolf,
and the last decade of hunt has taken many from us,
and provoked the wolves to be more secretive and cautious,
why trust a species that becomes predator to them?
we have already experienced more wonder of place and creature
than we can readily hold,
night comes, and place and animals are hidden from us
the wonder still there, it is our challenge to find it in the day,
our last day in the Park this trip eases into light
with flurrying snow and temperatures 15 degrees below zero,
we bundle ourselves in layers, toe and hand warmers on the go,
no wolves today at the entrance,
in fact no wolves allow their story
to intersect with ours today, magnificent bison welcome us again,
we drive and drive on hard-packed snowy road
and then a moose reveals herself in a willow thicket by the road,
all purposeful with the willow branches as food,
the cold lower but easier to take
with the wind less hell-roaring,
in the Cooke City area, moose and fox let us share their story,
as did Dan Hartman, a local wildlife photographer and enthusiast,
who shares his videos and stories:
owls, mountain goats, bears, white bark pine-nuts
hidden by squirrels and liberated
by whatever can find them, particularly bears,
the marvel of pine martens and of the Clark's nutcracker,
whose pouch holds exactly the number of pine-nuts in a cone,
outside Dan and Cindy's cabin, an ornithological glory visits their feeder:
the Clark's nutcracker, Steller's Jay, and pine grosbeaks,
by the time we left, the suet feeder was empty,
they need to refill it every two hours,
back in the Lamar Valley, two male bighorn sheep
worry the snow away by the road to find what they want to eat,
they almost pose just outside our vehicles
so that I can snap picture after picture
of their beauty and sureness of self,
we descend out of the Park,
missing what didn't reveal itself
and overwhelmed by how many glimpses of the wild world
open themselves to us,
the wolves drew us here:
other animals are more ubiquitous, easier to experience,
closer to what we can see, photograph, appreciate,
yet something deep in us needs the wolf,
wants the wolf, grasps at whatever
of the wolf's world reveals itself to us,
"not my will but Thine" I often pray,
the sense a larger purpose calls to us,
I think the wolf reminds us
that we can be larger,
that we should be larger,
that a world with space for the wolf to thrive,
gives us space so that we can survive,
and maybe even thrive.
by Henry H. Walker
February 20-23, ‘23
