YELLOWSTONE'S WILD WORLD

July 12, 2015

This hill that I am sitting on is called, “Dead Puppy.” So named for the day, long ago and before my time, when a pack of wolves found a coyote den and killed the young pups inside. Dead Puppy is one of my favorite places in Yellowstone – a rather steep hill that sits above Lamar and Soda Butte Valley, affording me an inside view of the Lamar Canyon pack den area.

I know that amongst those thick trees and in a tall grass and wildflower meadow, high above the hidden lake and below Druid Peak are some wolf pups. Not just any wolf pups but Spitfire’s.

I have spent hours on this hill, in the blowing wind, mixed with raindrops, and amongst the hoards of black flies and those dog gone brown biting flies that make even the toughest person cry out in pain. Once, recently, one of those flies bit me in the elbow, right on the funny bone and people heard me cry out when the force of the pain nearly sent me tumbling down a hill where my friends were waiting for a weasel to appear.

Dead Puppy is above the road that stretches from Tower to NE entrance and I see the cars going by, along with the fisherpersons in Soda Butte Creek, but unless someone watched me hike out they would not know that I am here, looking for wolves.

My new scope is set up low and my new binoculars, both of which are gifts from others who care about the wolves, sit in my lap. I scan the hillside and wonder what it would feel like to find a puppy romping through the wildflowers. How it would feel to see a wild wolf pup playing with a sibling and interacting with its environment. I have no clue how it feels but would like to know. Would I recognize a pup? Are they healthy? How many pups did she have this year and did they all survive?

We heard puppy howls yesterday and several days ago and so we know that they are hidden in the thick “Den Forest,” as we call it. There are open spaces, we have names for those – Western Ski Run, Eastern Ski Run, Diagonal Meadow, etc., and some meadows that no one can see unless up here with me and so they don’t have names. The green, fading from some hot dry days, is mixed with yellow wildflowers.

I am thankful for the cool air, the lack of mosquitos and the clouds covering the sun. The raindrops are a bit irritating ass I forgot my umbrella and am not anxious to wear soggy clothes for the remainder of the day – ones that will not dry in the cool, moist air of my tent.

Others had hiked out the “Trail,” to look for pups but I was not invited, which is just fine because my head hurts and I am not in the mood for conversation. In fact, during the hike up Dead Puppy I looked forward to the moment when it would just be myself, the wind and the groaning bison bull down below.

My time in Yellowstone has given me an appreciation for solitude and only the sounds of nature entering my ears. I am spoiled by being here year round but it is the busy summer season now and so I must work hard to escape the noises that people make.

So, up here on Dead Puppy, with my iPad in my lap and the scope in front of me, I breathe the silence that has enveloped me. The traffic below is just a murmur. I heard a branch break in the forest close by and thought that perhaps a bear was close by but nothing ever appeared. From time to time I look around to make sure that no animals sneak up on me from behind. The red ants crawling over me are less than thrilling but I leave them be.

I scan the den area, looking into the crevices between the tree, hoping for that sighting that we are all anxious to see – a wolf pup. Luck is involved, looking at the right spot at the exact time the pup decides to get up, look around, arch its back and stretches its front legs, with its tongue sticking out in my direction. Why do they always put the tongue out when doing the downward dog?

I look but do not find. Frustration at the lack of luck I seem to have wells in my throat and threatens to dampen my eyes. I think that few put out such a massive effort with few results. I have proven time and again that hard work is not the essential ingredient to success, luck with a little skill is what it takes.

After looking in every crevasse multiple times I understand that once again my efforts are for naught and get out the iPad to write for a few minutes. But, as lack of luck would have it, the raindrops begin to fall and soon it is time for me to head back to my car. Struck out again but don’t worry, I will be out again in the evening, the morning and another evening, Watching the Lamar Canyons.

Deby

The evening shift – I finally saw Twin again!  He travelled Soda Butte Valley 3 times looking for a way across the creek, through the fishermen and to the den.  He finally made it at the east end of the valley, aided by a person who stopped well back and let him cross in peace.  I was in the other lane to be sure no one would rush around and all went well.  It was stressful with no other watchers there – there were no howls or other sightings.