“Bearly” Made It
A chorus of coyote song wavered across the prairie. Snowy mountain peaks glowed pink in the sunrise. Sage grouse puffed out their chests and strutted a proud dance. It was a beautiful Sunday to be worshipping in nature’s church.
Featured photos: https://photos.app.goo.gl/Lag3Utno7Vb9VpGo7
April 28th, 2024 - Jackson, Wyoming
The sage grouse were our focus that morning. We’d roused ourselves at 4:30 AM to take part in a ranger-led sage grouse strut program out at Antelope Flats. Our spotting scopes and cameras stood like herons amongst the sage, granting us a view of grouse in the distance. Their grassy dance floor (otherwise known as a lek), was about a mile away. Mating season is a crucial part of preserving an endangered species, and the rangers weren’t about to let a few clumsy tourists disrupt it. Without the spotting scopes, the faraway birds resembled moving bushes. Through the scopes, however, was a very different view! Pretentiously, the male grouse inflated orange sacs of air on their fluffy chests, bobbing them like obscene, hilarious balloons. They flapped their wings and picked fights, desperate to be the most flamboyant. The females quietly watched from the edges. A herd of elk drifted behind the lek, eyeing the birds with mammalian distaste. The elk lifted their heads with dignity, proud to engage in mating behaviors more sophisticated than the bobbing birds. It was all strange and beautiful. We were grateful for the rare glimpse into a world rarely seen.
When the sun grew too warm for our thick Carhartt coats, we shed some layers and took a stroll down to the Moulton barns. The clear morning gifted us some beautiful photos of the mountains behind the barns. Because the Tetons were being so gracious, we hurried up to Oxbow Bend to try our photography luck there too. The mud was thick around our shoes as we slipped along the river bank. Our eyes were on the mountains, who winked coquettishly behind fleeting clouds. Grand Teton is a park that demands respect. She is a queen crowned with snow and robed in sage. You must always defer to her majesty. The Teton mountains lift their misty veils only when they choose, on their own time. Humbly, devotees must wait.
So we did.
In time, our patience was rewarded. The last wispy cloud peeled away from the mountain peaks, sending sunlight gleaming across the snow. The scene was underscored by a strip of vibrant red willows, reflected in duplicate upon the glassy river’s surface. A bit of motion caught my eye.
“Look Tyler, a coyote,” I whispered.
The grey canine loped along the far shore, sinking periodically in the soft snowdrifts. It climbed the hill, pausing to let a car pass before crossing the road. Then it disappeared, unbothered by our reverent presence. An elk standing in the river later caught our attention in the same way. The water swirled around her long legs as she swiveled her head nervously, ears erect. Happy to add some elk photos to the collection, we set up our camera and watched her. We were so focused on the solitary elk that we didn’t notice a man approach.
“I bet there’s a wolf nearby,” the man speculated. “See how she’s out in the water like that? Elk do that when they’re threatened.”
We turned to look at the man, surprised by this revelation. We were greeted by the intimitading stretch of a massive camera lens, nearly hiding the serious man behind the tripod. He bent to peer into his expensive device.
“Mmm, I don’t see anything yet, but I’ve heard they’re here. Somebody saw a wolf cross the road this morning. Have you guys seen any canines around here?”
Excitedly, we recalled our “coyote.” Turns out it was a wolf! Now we were hooked. We planted ourselves on the riverbank, diminutive eBay camera mounted proudly amongst the “bazooka cameras” and spotting scopes of the growing crowd. Turns out everyone had heard a wolf rumor, and Oxbow Bend was the place to be! Sure enough, the wildlife watchers soon saw the rumored wolf, a juvenile, slinking around the willows. It moved in cautiously. We weren’t sure whether it was coming for the elk or a beaver carcass on the bank, but we were excited either way. It came in, closer and closer, just on the other side of the river. Our excitement was growing. The bazooka photographers were practically vibrating with excitement,
Suddenly, a chorus of yelps and howls shrieked. “It’s the coyote den!” someone said. “The coyotes are chasing the wolf off!”
Sure enough, a fluster of grey movement thrust through the undergrowth. The young wolf scrambled out to the bank, heading briefly towards the easy meal of the beaver carcass. A coyote followed close behind as its maniacal howls echoed. The wolf, knowing where it was unwelcome, tucked tail and ran.
It was brief, exciting, and so magnificent. What a thing to witness!
When we were certain the wolf wouldn’t return, we took our camera and drove north, just for the fun of it. We found ourselves in a quiet wilderness where big snowflakes dusted the air above a “road closed” sign. We drank coffee from our thermoses and listened to the stillness through open windows. We later found ourselves a hiking trail along Jackson Lake and embarked into the snow. Like the wolf we’d seen earlier, we too sank in the fragile drifts. It was a difficult journey, but a beautiful one. We talked about the trail, our church, our friends, our future. When we had nearly run out of trail and conversation, Tyler suddenly grabbed my arm. Head still in the clouds, I looked at him in confusion.
“Bear,” he whispered urgently.
Sure enough, the fuzzy brown backside of a large bear was ambling up our trail ahead of us. My heart plummeted. Behind the bear were two cubs.
My mind stopped. It was a moment I had always worried about, but infinitely worse in real life. We had no bear spray. We hadn’t worried about renting it since we hadn’t planned on a hike. And still worse, Tyler had left his pistol in the car.
“What do we do??” I whispered. I’m sure my eyes were popping out of my head. Tyler, my everyday blessing, kept his cool.
“Let’s backtrack.”
We moved back several yards, watching the bear backsides disappear into the pines. When we lost sight of them, we stopped. Now what? We didn’t relish the idea of retracing our slow steps back through the thick snow. The parking lot was so close. Maybe we could circle around the bear and get to our car a different way. Craving a wilder field of vision, we descended to the lakeshore, where a wide swath of stony beach lay between the woods and Jackson Lake. The water lapped the stones quietly, unbothered by our tense movements. We hesitated, taking in our surroundings, and then crunched through the stones. My head swiveled side to side. The woods, now above us on the bank, seemed darker than before. Where had the bear gone? What if she doubled back? I glanced at the chilly lake, still mostly frozen except for the shallowest parts. Would we jump in the frigid water if she came after us? I hoped not.
Ahead of us, we noticed two hikers enter a clearing on the trail. They stopped, presumably noticing our bear buddies. A woman raised binoculars to her eyes. The man glanced our way, noticing our efforts to avoid the bears. He pointed towards the bears, and we nodded in response. It felt as though we were on a survival show, relying on hand signals and pure instinct. We kept advancing along the lakeshore, my eyes now fixated on the hikers. Safety in numbers, I kept repeating to myself. Safety in numbers.
The man threw up a closed fist. Stop now, it told us. We froze. The moments stretched on incomprehensively, lost in the quiet splashes of the waves. Finally, he waved us forward. Our pace had doubled in our fear. We reached them quickly.
The man grinned at us in an adventurous sort of way.
“Man, she was coming at you guys!”
I thought I misheard him. “W-what?”
“Oh yeah, she was galloping! She heard you down on the shore and she wasn’t a fan of how close you were to her cubs. I shouldn’t have told you guys to come over so soon. You were way too close.”
Ummmm what???
I couldn’t decide if I should be relieved or furious. I was still contemplating my soup of emotions when the bears emerged from the woods. Mama bear locked eyes with us. She considered the distance between us. We all knew we were too close. The Park Service recommends maintaining 100 yards between yourself and predators. We were maybe 30 yards. The mama bear lowered her head and advanced with a deliberate march.
Matching her pace, we retreated, walking backwards over sticks and snow. Our risk-taking hiking friends took the time to debate whether the bear was a grizzly or a black bear. I spent my time trying not to trip.
We eventually got far enough away that the grizzly/black bear (“brizzley?”) was satistified. She gave us one more final warning look and returned to her cubs, as steadily as she had advanced. Mr Hand Signals noticed a park ranger nearby and flagged him down, notifying him of the situation. We later learned that the bear was a black bear. She and her yearling cubs were locals in the area, but this was the first sighting of them this year. She had probably just emerged from her den, the ranger had said.
Oh great, so she was hangry too!
Civilization was calling us after that. We did some more sightseeing in non-bear territory after that, including an evening stroll around Jackson. Our eventful day concluded with a plateful of tacos at a restaurant called the Merry Piglets. Our conversation naturally revolved around our relief to not be bear tacos. We also agreed that we would always rent bear spray from now on, just in case!
I guess you live and you learn.
The iconic sage grouse mating dance: https://youtu.be/T11rOkgpRnA?si=whvIxy7Pb6Pte8yL
Hiking trail:
Colter Bay Lakeshore Trail
—Disclaimer: We know that post is out of sequence with our current publishing order. Due to numerous requests for this story, we are posting it early. We will be back with 2023 stories in a week!—
Comentários