A little bit of this, a little bit of that

19 September 2018, Touring Grand Tetons National Park (Wyoming) : 91 miles

It’s been a strange sort of day, a little bit of this, a little bit of that, with no dominant theme or special highlight. It was a lot of fun, though. So settle back, dear reader, make yourself a nice cup of tea (or a pour yourself a G&T if that’s what floats your boat) and let the Platypus Man tell you all about it.

A distant view of critters

Setting off from Jackson, we’ve driven just a few miles before we see a coyote loping through the meadow. He’s clearly on a mission, and obviously has ambitions to be a wolf. He’s giving it some, swaggering confidently through the long grass, sun gleaming off his sleek greyish-yellow coat. Sadly we can’t stop on the highway, and bid him a sad farewell as we head off into the Grand Tetons National Park.

Within a few miles we come across a commotion. Traffic is at a standstill, cars are parked all over the place, the air is fizzing with excitement. A park ranger is strutting around, making clear who’s in charge of this show. In the distance Mrs P spots a Black bear cub crossing the road. She and several other people move to get out of their cars, cameras at the ready.

“Get back in your cars,” the ranger bellows, self importance oozing from every pore. If he knows that most of the people he’s shouting at have waited years, maybe even their whole lives, to see a bear cub up close, he’s not letting it spoil his opportunity for a good bellow. Everyone gets back in their cars. Meanwhile the bear cub has scarpered, and pretty soon after we move on too, lamenting a lost opportunity.

Female moose and calf

We arrive back at the spot where, yesterday evening, the bull (male) moose with the enormous rack of antlers was dozing in the undergrowth. He’s moved on, but instead a cow moose and her calf are lying in the shadow of a tall pine tree. They’re a couple of hundred yards away and largely hidden by vegetation so we can’t see much of them, and apart from flicking their ears every now and then to keep the flies away they’re not moving. We wait for over an hour in the hope of some action, but in the end give up in despair. Moose can be contrary, miserable buggers and these two – not to mention yesterday’s male – are a case in point.

In the middle of nowhere

We drive on to Antelope Flats. Sadly the antelope are nowhere to be seen, but this area of the Park is famous for a series of historic homestead buildings, including barns, other outbuildings, corals and fences all dating from the 1890s. This is Mormon Row, and the setting is idyllic, lying in the open sage flats and overlooked by the soaring peaks of the Tetons. Unfortunately, the view of the mountains is once again spoiled by smoke from the wildfire, but we can see enough of them to appreciate the magnificence of the location.

Homestead on Mormon Row, smoke-covered mountains behind

Welcome back, old friend

As we move on from Mormon Row we are surprised and delighted to spot, in the far distance, bison grazing on the flats. We haven’t seen them on previous visits to the Grand Tetons and didn’t even know they were here, but in fact there are said to be several hundred roaming freely in the National Park. They are not nearly as plentiful, nor as confiding, as their iconic cousins in Yellowstone but it’s great to know they’re around if you look carefully.

Did you feel the earth move?

We head out of the National Park and into the Bridger-Teton National Forest, along the Gros Ventre River. Here, in 1925, occurred one of the largest-ever recorded landslides. Some 38 million cubic metres of rock slid 9,000ft down the north face of Sheep Mountain, crossed over the Gros Ventre River and rode up the opposite mountainside a distance of 91 metres.

Lower Slide Lake, and dam wall created by 1925 landslide

The landslide created a dam wall over 60 metres high and 300 metres wide across the river, backing up the water and forming Lower Slide Lake. Two years later part of the landslide dam failed, resulting in a massive flood downstream that wiped out the small town of Kelly and killed six people. Although Lower Slide Lake remains, it is much smaller now than at its height.

To the untrained eye there’s little hint of the dramatic events that happened here nearly a century ago. The valley is peaceful, and the autumn foliage is as spectacular here as elsewhere in the Tetons.

Autumn colours along the Gros Ventre River

Arts and Crafts

Our next stop is the National Museum of Wildlife Art, on the outskirts of Jackson. It’s a superb museum, and worthy of a post all of its own which follows on after this one. However, there is a Sculpture Trail outside the building, and one of the pieces has special relevance to our experiences over the past 24 hours. As I’ve already mentioned, moose are contrary buggers that like to keep their heads down, so this sculpture from the Trail is probably the best sighting of a male moose we’ll see all holiday.

Moose on the Sculpture Trail, National Museum of Wildlife Art

Bearing up

After enjoying the moose sculpture we decide to have one last try for the real thing at our favourite spot, but no luck.

However, lots of other people are intently watching a stand of trees a hundred metres or so across the road. We’re told there’s a Black bear there, and watching through binoculars we can see a bit of movement, but nothing that makes us feel it was worth the effort of coming back here. Disconsolately we drive back towards Jackson, and after a mile or so comes across more traffic chaos. There’s another Black bear up a tree close to the road, clearly visible this time, snacking on fruit of some sort. We can’t park due to the chaos, but Mrs P snaps a shot through the car window as we drive slowly past. At last, a decent, close-up view of a Black bear, if only for just a few seconds.

Black bear, snacking in a tree

Gotcha!

Feeling much more chipper, we continue the drive towards Jackson, watching out for the site of yesterday’s humiliation. Twenty-four hours ago, driving the same stretch of road, Mrs P suddenly shouted out “moose, moose”. I screeched to a halt, sending a up plume of burning rubber and causing alarm amongst motorists behind me. However the ‘moose’ was actually a black metal silhouette, placed at the roadside with the sole – and unspeakably cruel – intention of catching out people just like us.

‘Fake’ roadside moose

I will confess that many years ago in Minnesota Mrs P and I were fooled by a model owl strategically placed on a telegraph pole, and spent 20 minutes trying to get the perfect photo before realising that the ‘owl’ was far too motionless for a living bird. Oh, the humiliation.

I never thought we’d get caught out like that again, but yesterday proved me wrong. This evening, for a laugh, Julie takes a photo as we drive past and it’s pleasing to see, just in front of us, a pick-up truck slam on the brakes as the driver falls for it too. Silly bugger!

Smoke gets in your eyes

18 September 2018, Yellowstone (Wyoming) to Jackson (Wyoming) : 129 miles

Welcome to the Tetons

The Tetons: when the smoke clears, the views are stunning

Within a few miles of leaving Yellowstone we are once again in a National Park. Grand Tetons is famous for its majestic and imposing mountains, and we’ve met several people on this trip who have said they prefer it to Yellowstone. We can’t agree, however, as the Tetons lacks the abundance of wildlife and the geothermal features which, for us at least, make Yellowstone so special.

To be fair, we do see some wildlife during the day, including a tantalising glimpse of a male moose with an enormous rack of antlers. Unfortunately he’s lying down in deep tree cover, and his rack is all we can see. However, this looks promising so we decide to return to the same spot tomorrow to see if he’s feeling any more sociable. We also get a brief view of a female Mule deer, but it’s a case of now you see her, now you don’t. In Yellowstone it felt like we were tripping over the wildlife, but here it seems like a bit of a struggle. By the end of the day I’m suffering severe bison withdrawal symptoms.

It’s a lovely day, warm and sunny, and you would expect the mountains to look at their best. However, for much of the day a haze of smoke clings stubbornly to the mountainsides, spoiling what should be magnificent scenery. The area is susceptible to forest fires – on our way into the Park we drove through large areas that had been devastated a few years ago – and we learn that right now there is a wildfire blazing not too many miles from here sending up plumes of smoke that are partly obscuring the mountains. This is the second time during the trip that forest fires have rained on our parade – remember our 80 miles detour to get into Glacier National Park? – which is testimony to the hot, dry summer they’ve had in these parts.

Colourful foliage, but not the smoke haze over the mountains

One of the best things about the day is the autumn foliage. In Yellowstone pine trees and sage bushes predominate; however in the Tetons broad-leaved deciduous trees are more in evidence, particularly aspens, and many are putting on a great show for the autumn.

Echoes of the Vicar of Dibley

Chapel of the Transfiguration, main (front) entrance. 

In an episode of the Vicar of Dibley, our spiritual heroine persuades her parish council that instead of replacing their church’s damaged stained glass window with one of a similar ilk, a plain window would allow the parishioners to better appreciate the glory of God’s creation. There is, believe it or not, an example of similar thinking to be found here in Grand Tetons National Park.

Interior view.  Note the picture window behind the altar

The Chapel of the Transfiguration is a small, log-built chapel deep in the Park, dating back to 1925 – before the creation of the National Park – when it was built to serve the spiritual needs of the guests and employees of nearby dude ranches. Even the legs and backrests of the pews are made from logs. However, it is the large picture window directly behind the altar that makes this place so special. A cross sits in the centre of the altar, and is silhouetted against a stunning panoramic view of the Tetons that can be seen through the window.

View through the picture window behind the altar

Interestingly, this place is not just a tourist magnet.  It still functions as an active place of worship during the summer months, when it is served by a succession of ‘Summer Chaplains.’

We visited this place some 20 years ago, and feel a return visit is long overdue. The chapel’s picture window is an extraordinary design feature, although whether it focusses worshippers minds’ on matters spiritual, or merely provides a welcome distraction from the drudgery of the sermons, is a matter for conjecture.

Yellowstone reflections

13 to 18 September 2018 inclusive; total miles touring Yellowstone over 5 days: 557 miles

Yellowstone Lake Reflections

After five full days in Yellowstone, during which time we covered some 557 miles in search of fabulous wildlife and stunning scenery, it’s time to move on, heading south towards the neighbouring Grand Tetons National Park. Looking back through this blog I see I’ve published no fewer than 16 posts and around 10,000 words describing our Yellowstone highlights. And yet I still haven’t done Yellowstone National Park proper justice.

Male mule deer, Canyon area

Female mule deer at Soda Butte

Where, for example, is the separate post on mule deer? Everyone loves a mulie, with those ridiculously long ears that have given them their name. They’re quite common in the Park and we’ve seen a number of females and youngsters, but only one male. He boasted a splendid pair of antlers and was strutting his stuff by the side of the road.  He plainly thought he was the main man. I, for one, have no argument with that.

White Crowned Sparrow, at Lamar Road

Let’s not forget the birds: there’s more to Yellowstone than trumpeter swans, bald eagles and bluebirds. There are ravens all over the place, cheeky chappies patrolling the car parks in search of whatever scraps they can beg, steal or borrow, and a Williamson’s sapsucker, a woodpecker-like bird that drills holes in tree bark, flies off for a while, and then returns to feast on the sap that collects in them and the insects stuck fast in the sap.

And who can forget the sparrows? In the UK we have just two species; over here they have around 30, mostly little brown jobs that are pretty much indistinguishable from one another. However, the white crowned sparrow, which looks like it’s flying around with a zebra crossing on its head, is a bit of a showstopper.  Now that’s saying something for a sparrow.   The flotilla of goldeneye on Yellowstone Lake was pretty special too.  And then, of course, there was the osprey, also at Yellowstone Lake: they’re more common in the USA than in UK, but nevertheless great to see, particularly when they put on a fly-past just for us.

Chipmunk at Norris Basin

And what about chipmunks? They’re all over the place, scuttling between rocks and under logs.  This trip I’ve seen them mostly while driving, as they dash recklessly across the road with their tails held aloft. These jaywalkers don’t hang around to have their photos taken, but we were luckier when walking back from Norris Basin, where one posed briefly for his portrait amongst the fallen pine needles in a patch of woodland.  He was on a mission, however, and soon returned to it, searching desperately for more seeds to add to his burgeoning store-cupboard before winter sets in

Golden mantled ground squirrel at Yellowstone Lake

Chipmunks should not, of course, be mistaken for their beefier cousins, the golden mantled ground squirrels. And this is the point, you see, Yellowstone is dripping with wildlife. Our visit here has fully lived up to our expectations. Indeed it’s surpassed them, because although we’d hoped to see wolves we never expected to do so.

And yet, there are concerns. Yellowstone is a victim of its own success, attracting ever more visitors. We’ve never known it so busy. Last year (2017) the Park recorded 4,116,528 visitors; in the year 2000 the total was a little over 2.8 million. This equates to an increase over the period of 45%. It’s great to know that the so many people are getting out and about in Yellowstone, but the place appears to be creaking at the seams.

Williamson’s sapsucker at Lamar Valley

Although the Park authorities are investing in the infrastructure, they’re not keeping up with the numbers. The catalyst for the bison jam near the West Entrance was, of course, the bison, but the tipping point was the sheer number of cars entering the Park. It was a bad experience, and I’m guessing some first time visitors in that horrendous queue quickly decided that Yellowstone was not for them.

It’s not just the roads and the parking that are under pressure. There were huge numbers of people at some of the major attractions, and here the Chinese bus groups were a major factor. This is the most significant travel industry trend we’ve noticed in recent years, here at Yellowstone, and on our trips to Tasmania (2016) and Newfoundland (2017). Don’t get me wrong, I’ve nothing against Chinese groups doing the mass tourist thing, but I’d feel easier if they spent more time looking at the splendours on view, and less with their backs to those splendours taking endless selfies. At least that way I could maybe convince myself that the jam-packed viewpoints and boardwalks served some useful purpose.

All of this is not, of course, a problem that’s unique to Yellowstone. A report in the New York Times in September 2017 focussed particularly on the pressures facing Zion National Park, in Utah. The article says that:

“The National Park Service was created in 1916 to protect the country’s growing system of parks and monuments. Its mandate is to conserve scenery and wildlife while also protecting visitor enjoyment for generations to come. For years, the lack of a reservation system for park entry aligned with the service’s ethos of democracy and discovery: Anyone could come, pretty much anytime. … But lately, both visitors and nature are suffering”

Managers noted that “some people showed up for a vacation they had planned for months, spent a day in the gridlock and turned around.” The solution being considered is a reservation system. One option would require people to make an online reservation before arrival, and would set a yet-to-be-specified limit on visitors. The second option would require reservations only for certain areas.

Raven at Steamboat Point car park

Where Zion leads, Yellowstone may one day have to follow. Part of me is saddened by the thought of rationing access to Yellowstone, particularly if the ‘market’ for reservations comes to be dominated by bus tours, but on the other hand if numbers continue to grow the very thing the visitors turn up to enjoy will be irrevocably damaged, and the wildlife will suffer.

Flotilla of goldeneye at Yellowstone Lake

It’s a sombre note on which to finish. I love Yellowstone, and I’d like as many people as possible to see it, to be inspired by it, and maybe to be changed for the better by it. But this probably isn’t possible in the longer term, so eventually some way of managing visitor numbers will have to be introduced. Let’s just hope that, when the time comes, the Park authorities do it with care and sensitivity. I wish them well.

Osprey fly-past at Yellowstone Lake

Yellowstone highlights: 16 of 16 – Wolves (at last!)

13 to 18 September 2018 inclusive; total miles touring Yellowstone over 5 days: 557 miles

The reintroduction

Although the establishment of Yellowstone National Park in 1872 was a revolutionary initiative – Yellowstone is the oldest national park in the USA, and quite possibly the whole world – the early Park administrators were far from enlightened. Their view of wildlife was extremely simplistic: they divided wildlife into ‘good’ animals and ‘bad’ animals, and argued that the best thing to do with ‘bad’ animals was to eradicate them. Inevitably the wolf, as a predator, was consigned to the latter category, and a campaign of trapping, shooting and poisoning followed until the last wolves were killed in the 1920s.

Few tears were shed at the time: wolves have always evoked strong emotions. Ranchers hate them because they are a perceived threat to livestock, hunters loathe them because they can impact on the numbers of elk, deer and other quarry species, and your ordinary man-in-the-street fears them because of their fierce reputation. It was, therefore, an extraordinarily bold decision of a more enlightened generation of Park managers in the 1990s to reintroduce the wolf to Yellowstone.

The good news is that the wolves are doing quite well inside the Park, with the population up at around 100 animals. My previous post describes how wolfie’s return has impacted on elk numbers and behaviour, resulting in an increase in the number of beavers in the Park, which in turn is having other beneficial environmental effects.  The reintroduction of wolves to Yellowstone is without doubt one of the USA’s most significant and successful conservation projects.

However, any wolves that stray across the Park borders are in big trouble. The surrounding States of Montana and Wyoming are reintroducing wolf hunting, while ranchers will readily shoot any that they encounter on the basis that the only good wolf is a dead one.

Mrs P strikes lucky

In five previous visits to Yellowstone stretching back over more than 20 years we’ve never seen a wolf. To be fair, we’ve never deliberately set out to see them, and have simply hoped for the best while out and about doing other stuff. This time, however, we’ve decided we’ll do whatever it takes to meet up with wolfie.

The area of the Park where wolves are most easily seen is the Lamar Valley. This is where most wolf-spotters gather, and one morning we drive out to join them. We stop when we see a group of people with telescopes trained on the slopes across the wide valley, and ask if they’ve seen any. Yes, we’re told, but it’s getting late (around 10am), and the wolves don’t normally show at this late hour.

We’re disappointed though not surprised, but we scan the far side of the river anyway. Suddenly a lady yells excitedly “wolf, wolf.” We can still see nothing. She lets Mrs P use her scope. Mrs P sees a lone, black individual run across the slope, then disappear up into the tree line. It doesn’t show itself again. Unfortunately, I see nothing.

Mrs P doesn’t know whether to be thrilled for herself, or disappointed for me. There’s only one thing for it, we decide: we’ll have to come back tomorrow and try again …

Crying “wolf”

We know that our only chance is to get to Lamar Valley early, to give ourselves as much time as possible before the wolves retire for the day. So we get up at 6am, and are on the road by 6.50. We promise ourselves that we won’t be distracted by anything else, today is all about the wolves. We’re therefore gutted to see three mule deer close by the roadside, bathed in beautiful, warm early morning light. Normally we’d stop and admire them, and Mrs P’s camera would go into overdrive. But we stick to our plan, and wave them a sad goodbye as I put my foot down (within the Park’s speed limit, of course!) and head on to the Lamar Valley.

But even the best laid plans can be scuppered. We get caught up in a bison jam. A big male is wandering down the middle of the road, taking his time, lost in thought. He has right of way, and cars are backed up in either direction. It seems like an eternity before he moves aside and lets the traffic pass.

Small group of wolf-spotters, clothed-up against the early morning chill

Finally, we get to Lamar Valley. The parking areas are all rammed with vehicles, and there are dozens of people on the road side with telescopes, binoculars and big-lens cameras, all scanning the hillside. Eventually, I find a spot to pull over. There’s another car already parked there. The driver says there were three wolves showing well a little while ago, but now they’ve disappeared. We scan hopefully, but to no avail.

A vehicle pulls up beside us. The driver tells us that a little further up the road they’ve got the wolves in sight. We leap into our car, and scoot off to check out the tip.  Within a couple of minutes we’ve joined the throng of eager spotters. Yes, we’re told, there were wolves, but they’ve just disappeared from view. It looks like it’s not going to be our day.

Two wolves, at the top of the line of pale brown meadow grass, both facing to the left

But luckily some of these people are professional wolf-spotters, leading small tour groups. They’re in touch by radio with colleagues up and down the valley, sharing information. Finally, the message comes through: wolves are heading our way. Everyone is scanning the hillside, hoping to see them. Excitement and anticipation is high, and anxiety too. Everyone’s drawing a blank. At last, after what seems like an eternity of waiting, we hear a man crying “wolf”.

Lone wolf, standing in front of boulder at centre of the photo, facing to the left

And there they are, tiny specks on a hillside, close to half a mile away but clearly visible through the binoculars. There are three of them, two black and one grey, and they move around in the pale brown meadow grass for maybe 20 minutes. It’s a wonderful, moving sight and everyone watching is thrilled. Even though they are so far off, they’re unmistakable.

Wolfie’s back in town, strutting his stuff and putting on a show for us. At last, after 20 years and five previous visits to the Park, we’ve achieved one of our big wildlife-watching ambitions.

Yellowstone highlights: 15 of 16 – Elk in the firing line

13 to 18 September 2018 inclusive; total miles touring Yellowstone over 5 days: 557 miles

‘His Royal Highness’

Introducing the elk

The elk is one of the world’s largest species of deer. Although the two are separate species, elk are broadly similar to the red deer that are a common sight in our own Scottish Highlands. In North America elk are also known as wapiti, a Shawnee Indian word meaning ‘white tail’. But in Europe we use the word elk to refer to an entirely different animal that Americans call ‘moose’. Confused? Me too.

Female elk (cows) are impressive in their own right, weighing up to 600 pounds, but it’s the male (bull) that captures the imagination. Bulls stand over five feet tall at the shoulders and can weigh-in at 1,000 pounds. But what gives bull elk extra charisma at this time of year is their massive, and potentially lethal, rack of antlers. A male elk in the autumn is a majestic, imposing spectacle.

We need to talk about hunting

‘The Young Pretender’ and one of his ladies

Nothing better demonstrates America’s schizophrenic relationship with its wildlife than its view of the elk. Americans love the elk, marvel at its majesty, maybe even come close to worshipping it. And what better way to demonstrate your undying affection for an animal than to shoot it? According to received American wisdom, like a Hockney or a Constable or a Canaletto, the best place for an elk – or at least its head – is hanging on a wall, somewhere prominent, so all your friends and neighbours can see what a fine, upstanding, testosterone-charged fellow you really are.

OK, I know you think I’m exaggerating, that I keep banging on about hunting, that I’m fixated. But I’m not: hunting in general, and elk hunting in particular, is BIG business in the USA. Figures from 2017 suggest that hunting and fishing generate $63 billion annually for the retail economy, and provide jobs for nearly 483,000 Americans. Sixty-three billion dollars! During this trip, at diners and bars all over the place, we’ve seen signs in the windows and on the doors proclaiming ‘HUNTERS WELCOME!’ No wonder, everyone wants part of the action, and 63 billion bucks buys a lot of action.

What I find particularly galling is the holier-than-thou attitude of the average American hunter, who puffs out his chest and argues proudly that it is the income generated by hunting licences that finances conservation in the USA. He’s right, of course: a 2016 report suggests that hunters contribute $1.65 billion annually to wildlife conservation through licenses, permits and excise duties. The sad fact is that wildlife conservation in the USA is largely financed with blood money.

‘The Young Pretender’ glares at ‘His Royal Highness’

I am sickened by this cultural obsession with hunting. The notion that man is above all other living things, and that wildlife exists simply for the pleasure of humans to do with as they wish, without regard to the pain and suffering inflicted on other creatures, is anathema to me. Killing for the pleasure of the kill runs contrary to everything I hold dear, and the fact that hunting generates finances for conservation – which is also close to my heart, of course – doesn’t make it any more acceptable. For me it’s a philosophical and ethical issue, pure and simple. The Platypus Man is not for turning.

Obviously, the USA is a sovereign foreign country, and as a guest visiting it I must accept its rules and cultural norms. Fair enough. I’ve been to the States many times, and knew all about its attitude to, and love of, hunting long before we touched down at Denver a few weeks ago, so I can hardly act surprised. I don’t have to like it though.

Hunting will continue in the USA, whatever I think, and I will continue to be appalled by it, what ever America-at-large thinks.

So, there you are, I’ve said my piece and got it off my chest. Let’s move on.

STOP PRESS: See what the makers of Dr WHO make of American attitudes to shooting things.

Winners and losers

Of course, elk hunting isn’t permitted in the Park, which sounds like good news for members of the hunters’ celebrated trophy species. But any elk with an ounce of sense should be looking over its shoulder, because wolfie’s back in town and elk is on the menu.

Prior to the reintroduction of wolves in the mid-1990s, the population of elk inside the Park was out of control, although it’s worth noting that when some of the animals migrated to their lower altitude winter feeding grounds outside Yellowstone, hunters were licensed to shoot thousands each year. All this has changed since the reintroduction of wolves, which prey primarily on the elk. As a result of wolfie’s endeavours, the northern Yellowstone elk herd fell in numbers from a high point of about 19,000 in the mid-1990s to between 5,000 and 6,000 in 2014/15.

‘The Young Pretender’ getting ready for action

We have a personal perspective on the decline in elk numbers. Our first visit to the Park was in the mid-1990s, about the time the wolf reintroduction project was initiated, when elk numbers were at their highest. We can clearly remember seeing large numbers at various locations throughout Yellowstone, many more than we’ve seen in 2018. Back then it seemed like we were tripping over them wherever we went, and while it would be wrong to say that this year we have struggled to see them, neither has it appeared that they are here in huge numbers. The days of ‘peak elk’ have gone, and won’t return while wolfie’s on the job.

Many Americans lament the reduction in elk numbers here, not least hunters who find that fewer licenses are now available to shoot those that move to winter-feeding areas outside the Park. However, in ecological terms, the number of elk before wolf reintroduction was unnaturally high, due to the lack of an apex predator.

The excessive number of elk had a massive impact on the vegetation that they eat, in particular the willows growing along stream edges. Over-grazing resulted in small, stunted stands of willow, which, therefore, couldn’t sustain beaver populations. The reintroduction of wolves both reduced the number of elk in the Park, and kept those that remained on the move so that they didn’t have time to over-graze willow stands. As a result these willow stands have now recovered, and provide food for beavers.

‘The Young Pretender’ bugling a threat

In 1995, when wolves were reintroduced, there was just one beaver colony in the Park; by 2011 there were nine, and the number of beavers in Yellowstone continues to grow. Beavers are themselves a vital part of a thriving ecosystem, building new dams and ponds, which provide habitat for fish and birds, so the hits just keep on coming.

The culling of elk by the reintroduced wolves has also resulted in a comeback of the yellow aspen, which adds to the visual appeal of the Park during the autumn.

Before 1995, the Yellowstone ecosystem was fractured. Wolfie’s arrival has made it whole again. There have been winners and losers in this process: the beaver has plainly benefited, as have the aspen, while the elk’s fortunes have waned somewhat. While it’s tempting to get sentimental about the reduction in elk numbers, this should be something to celebrate. The reduction has been driven by natural forces rather than man. There are still lots of elk to see and enjoy, and they are in balance with their environment at last. Long may it continue.

Tears before bedtime

Our first view of elk in Yellowstone on this trip was at Mammoth Hot Springs, shortly after arriving at the Park via the North Entrance. Our best view also comes at Mammoth a couple of days later. We are here to see the geothermal features, but elk are common here so it’s no surprise to come across two bull elk, each with a small harem of ladies.

We find them in the centre of a major geothermal area, where they are blind to its charms. This is the rutting season, and the only thing on their minds is sex. The air is heavy with testosterone, and the two bulls are engaged in a high-pitched shouting contest, known as bugling, while the cows look on smugly.

‘His Royal Highness’ bugling a response to his rival

The tourists, including the Platypus Man and Mrs P, shun the geothermals in favour of witnessing a stand-off that maybe, just maybe, will result in a battle. There is a ranger on hand to prevent anyone getting too close: when an elk’s blood is up tourists can become collateral damage.

‘The Young Pretender’ getting very agitated

The older male with the larger, more impressive rack of antlers – his Royal Highness – is on slightly higher ground, relaxed, eyeing up the opposition calmly. The other male, the Young Pretender, is clearly agitated, pawing the ground, peeing on it and rubbing his antlers into to the wet patch to scent mark them. We hear that from the ranger that the older male had previously poached some of the younger male’s ladies, and the Young Pretender’s not a happy bunny.

There’s obviously ill-feeling between these two bad boys, and although we don’t witness it ourselves we confidently expect tears before bed -time.