Introduction

[Illustration: Bear and cub.]

The Mount McKinley region was set aside as a National Park in 1917. The

foresighted conservationists who advocated National Park status for this

country were activated chiefly by their desire to preserve the flora and

fauna in its pristine condition. An effort was made to give the park

ample boundaries, but desirable extensions were later made, and it is

possible that in the future additional adjustments will be desirable

from the standpoint of assuring a self-sustaining ecological unit.

A drive from the Nenana River, the eastern boundary, to Wonder Lake,

some 90 miles to the west and directly north of Mount McKinley, is

always a fresh adventure. No two days are the same. One day we may see

more grizzlies than usual; on another trip we may be especially

fortunate and catch sight of a wolf or a wolverine. It is desirable to

drive slowly and to stop occasionally to examine the landscape for

animal life—the mountains for Dall sheep, the river bars and passes for

grizzlies and caribou, and the water, for birds, beaver, or moose.

Some of the birds to be seen along the way are the ptarmigan—willow

ptarmigan in the low country, rock ptarmigan on the high passes (the

white-tailed are confined to higher elevations and probably will not be

seen)—the long-tailed jaegers, the whimbrel (Hudsonian curlew), golden

plovers, short-billed gulls, golden eagles, and several kinds of ducks.

Ornithologists will be especially interested in seeing such asiatic

birds as the wheatear and the willow warbler.

Much of the park is treeless tundra, but strips of woods follow the

rivers far into the park, and patches grow here and there on the

adjacent mountain slopes. Timberline varies according to soil and

exposure; in places it reaches elevations of over 3,500 feet.

White spruce is the common conifer. Black spruce is confined to poorly

drained and boggy areas. Along the north boundary I have seen a few

patches of tamarack. Cottonwood and aspen are widely distributed and a

few tree birches grow at lower elevations. Along the McKinley River an

extensive strip of cottonwoods may be seen from the highway.

The tundra supports a growth of willow and dwarf birch. Over twenty

kinds of willow occur in the park. They range in size from small forms

only 2 or 3 inches in height, to brushy growths 20 feet tall. In places

the small willows may grow dense enough to form a sod. These shrubs are

highly important for wildlife. Alder brush is widely distributed and

plentiful on canyon slopes; near Wonder Lake there are many clumps of

alder in the rolling tundra.

The low ground cover over the park consists of mosses, lichens, sedges,

grasses, horsetails, and herbaceous plants—many species of each. Early

flowers may begin blooming in late April and early May, and at the

higher elevations some blooms may be seen in late summer.

The annual berry crop is bounteous and is an important source of food

for a host of birds and mammals. Even the mountain sheep have been found

enjoying the blueberries. Blueberry, crowberry, cranberry, buffaloberry,

and alpine bearberry are all widely distributed. The berries begin to

ripen in late July.

With the melting of the snow in the spring, the white landscape of

winter is transformed into a brown countryside—brown grasses, sedges,

and leafless shrubbery. Snow fields still persist on the mountain

slopes, and the spruces are dark green, but brown hues seem to dominate

one’s impression of the tundra at this time. In June—the time varies a

little with the year—the landscape is magically transformed from a dull

brown to the brightest green. Early in August spots of red and yellow

colors begin to show. By late August and early September the country is

again transformed and we have a world of crimson and other shades of

red, trimmed with yellow and gold of willow, aspen, and cottonwood. The

alders add contrast for they remain summer-green throughout the autumn

color season.

Over much of the country the ground remains frozen below a depth of a

few feet. In some shaded areas where the ground is deeply carpeted with

moss the soil remains frozen within less than 2 feet of the surface. The

continuous thawing of the soil in summer keeps the surface moist until

autumn. The thawed surface soil tends in places to creep imperceptibly

down slopes as it becomes water-soaked, even though plant life has a

strong stabilizing influence. Occasionally the soil becomes saturated

with moisture to considerable depths and we have rather large land

slides such as the one that recently formed Slide Lake on Stony Creek;

the one that shows prominently on the south slope of Sable Mountain; and

one to the south of the road at about 3-Mile that caused spruces to lean

in various directions. Thawed, water-logged surface soil rests uneasily

on the frozen sub-stratum.

[Illustration: Typical glacial stream. Grizzlies and caribou may

often be seen in the streambed and Dall sheep on the mountain

slopes.]

A number of parallel, northward-flowing streams head in glaciers lying

along the north slope of the Alaska Range. The streams are not

large—most of them can be waded without getting too wet—so it is

surprising to find them bordered by wide gravel bars. This is due to

lack of stream stabilization. In summer the streams carry a load of silt

which may be dropped along the way. Channels are continually being

gouged out here and filled in somewhere else so that the stream keeps

breaking over its sides and forming additional channels. High water, due

to a warm day and much glacier melting, or to heavy rains, may cause the

streams to flow into entirely new channels. When the main stream reaches

the side of the gravel bar it will erode the bank and thus broaden the

river bar. This type of erosion is noticeable just below the Teklanika

bridge. Gravel bars that have not been invaded for a long period may

become covered with vegetation, and it is on some of these old bars that

we often see grizzlies digging roots in the spring of the year. But even

these bars are temporary. One such bar on the Toklat River was invaded

by part of the river a few years ago and much of the sod is being washed

away today. Physiographic processes are all very active in the region.

On many slopes we see the turf breaking away, and here and there a small

land slip.

[Illustration: Typical ice blister.]

Those who come to the park the early part of the summer may see

extensive fields of ice on the river bars. These are the result of what

is called overflow. During cold weather the ice on the streams freezes

so thick that there is not room for all of the water to pass under the

ice, and since it must run somewhere it develops pressure and breaks out

on the surface where it spreads widely underneath the snow. Here it

freezes. This process continues throughout the winter and often forms

ice patches many feet thick. When one is dog-mushing on rivers the

overflow water under the snow is a hazard before it freezes, and the

driver of a dogteam must watch to avoid such spots. Conditions are worst

during the coldest weather, at a time when a wetting is most serious.

Out in the park there are no trails except for one down Savage Canyon.

The country is so open that trails are not needed. The river bars

furnish excellent hiking, and even walking across the upland tundra is

easy. A number of campgrounds are located along the road between the

Nenana River and Wonder Lake.

This booklet is made available as a quick reference pertaining to the

mammals in the park. The comments on each species are brief but perhaps

sufficient to suggest their status. Distances are deceiving so field

glasses should be used in searching the landscape for the larger animals

such as sheep, caribou, and bears.

Grizzly Bear

_Ursus horribilis_

The grizzly’s domain in the park extends from the glaciers at the heads

of the rivers, northward to the north boundary. The grizzly may be

discovered on an old river bar, on one of the low passes between the

rivers, or traveling high on a mountain slope. One of the favorite

haunts along the road is Sable Pass, where each summer one to four

females with cubs, along with a few lone or mated bears, take residence.

Any bear seen out in the park is almost certain to be a grizzly because

the black bear is confined to the wooded low country along the east and

north boundaries. The hump on the shoulder and the dishfaced profile

(rather than almost straight, as in the black bear) are good field

characters. The general coloration varies from cream color (rare) to

straw color, brown, chocolate, and black. The legs are always blackish.

The fur fades considerably during the spring and summer. Hence, the new

coat, fully developed by autumn, is always darker, and gives the bear a

new, fresh look. One old male grizzly, not very fat, weighed 650 pounds.

The females are considerably smaller. Because of the long claws on the

forepaws, the track of the grizzly can be readily distinguished from

that of the black bear, whose forepaw claws are shorter and more curved.

In the spring when grizzlies first come forth from their dens they seem

to do much wandering over the higher slopes. At this season I have noted

their tracks leading to the remains of sheep, caribou, and moose that

had succumbed during the winter. Usually the wolves, foxes, and

wolverines have long since feasted on the fleshy parts, but the bears

are happy to crush the bones that remain on the premises and thus obtain

a taste of the succulent marrow.

The spring and early-summer food is chiefly the root of the peavine

(_Hedysarum alpinum americanum_) that flourishes on old vegetated river

bars and on many mountain slopes. Using both paws, with their long

claws, and straining backward with his body weight, chunks of sod are

turned over to expose the thick peavine roots. With delicate strokes,

his paws further expose the roots, which taste much like the garden

variety of pea. So extensive is the root-digging at times that an area

may look like a plowed field when the bear has finished. At this season,

because of these food habits, bears can often be seen on the open river

bars and on the ridge slopes. Cranberries and crowberries that have

wintered under the snow are often eaten in spring.

In June, green vegetation becomes available and a drastic change of diet

results. The root digging is terminated for something better. A grass,

(_Arctagrostis latifolia_), with a stiff and juicy stalk, and growing in

swales and wettish areas, is a favorite. The bears also graze

extensively on horsetail (_Equisetum arvense_), mountain-sorrel (_Oxyria

digyna_), and the tall showy white saxifrage (_Boykinia richardsonii_).

A pea (_Oxytropis viscida_), growing abundantly far up the streams on

old river bars is extensively grazed.

The grizzly is quite fastidious in his feeding on dock (_Rumex

fenestratus_). He severs the thick juicy stem with a bite and as he

chews, the large reddish seed head drops from his lips, neatly

discarded.

The grizzlies continue grazing and chomping green grasses and herbs

until berry time when another major change of food habits takes place.

Some grazing still persists but now the bears turn wholeheartedly to

blueberries, crowberries, and the bitter scarlet buffaloberries, the

three species of berries most abundant and available. The lush berry of

alpine bearberry (_Arctous alpinus_), that ground-hugging woody plant

that colors patches of the landscape a brilliant scarlet in autumn, are

sometimes eaten, but not with any efficiency. The berry diet continues

through the autumn but at this season a few roots may again be sought.

The bear belongs to the order _Carnivora_ and yet little mention has

been made of meat in the diet. He is perhaps, so to speak, a victim of

evolution and has had to adjust. As his mature size became ever larger

through eons of time, he became too slow to catch large herbivores such

as the caribou, and his large body required more sustenance than could

be secured by digging for mice and ground squirrels under usual

circumstances. Therefore he had to turn more and more to vegetation

which could be secured in quantity. This is not as drastic a change as

we might offhand suppose. It is one chiefly of degree, because we find

carnivores such as the fox and the marten turning to a berry diet for a

period, from choice.

But it appears that the grizzly would like more meat than is generally

available. This I infer from the quantity he eats when he finds a

carcass and from the avidity with which bears of all kinds seek spawning

fish when available. The only animal that the grizzly consistently hunts

in the park is the ground squirrel, but a squirrel contributes only a

mouthful and its capture usually requires excessive time and energy.

Sometimes a squirrel is surprised and captured before it can disappear

in a burrow. But generally a squirrel is secured only after extensive

excavating which may involve as much as half an hour, and not

infrequently the bear, after much digging, fails to unearth his intended

victim. In years when meadow mice and lemmings are especially abundant,

bears may make their capture a project which contributes at least a

tasty diversion. Caribou and moose calves may occasionally be captured

when very young, but the season for this food is short. Occasionally

tidings come to a bear’s keen nose that carrion lies upwind, and the

lucky bear keeps gorging until only a few bones and patches of hide

remain.

After feeding on a carcass the bear often covers it with sod and

vegetation. One fall at Stony Creek I watched a bear at a cache which

showed up as a dark mound surrounded by a dark circular area from which

the sod had been torn loose. For an hour the bear kept methodically

raking the surrounding area beyond.

[Illustration: Grizzly bears digging for ground squirrels.]

He was scraping the loose vegetation toward the cache, working leisurely

with one paw at a time. The loosened material was pushed toward the

cache as the work progressed. When I examined the area later, I noted a

circular patch, extending out 20 feet from all sides of the carcass,

that had been combed clean of loose vegetation. The bear finally lay

down on the cache to wait for digestion to create more space for this

rich fare.

North of Wonder Lake a grizzly had similarly covered a caribou that a

hunter had left lying in the field. The bear was not at the cache, but

since most of the carcass was still intact, he probably was not far

away. I found some carcasses that were not covered with sod. A mother

and two yearlings at Polychrome Pass left a caribou carcass without

covering it and retired to some steep cliffs overlooking the area. The

following day they rested near the carcass, but still no effort was made

to cover it.

Mating takes place in May, June and early July, and a pair remains

together for two or three weeks. I suspect that a male might look for a

second marriage following the termination of the first. One large

crippled male was successfully consorting with two females at the same

time, neither female objecting to the presence of the other—in fact,

both probably preferred it that way.

The cubs are born in the hibernating den in midwinter, are 8 or 9 inches

long, and weigh less than 2 pounds at birth. The number of cubs in a

litter ordinarily varies from one to three, two being the most frequent.

The cubs not only nurse throughout the first summer but to about the

same extent during their second summer abroad, when they are robust

yearlings. I had been surprised to find yearlings regularly nursing, but

it was a greater surprise to observe mother grizzlies nursing cubs over

2 years old, in their third summer abroad. The protracted nursing period

indicates a breeding interval of females with cubs, of three or more

years, since females followed by nursing yearlings have not been seen

consorting with a male.

The dens used for hibernation are excavated by the grizzly if natural

caves are not available. A den is usually dug on a rather steep slope.

The entrance to one I examined was about 2 feet wide and a little less

than 2½ feet high. A tunnel 6 feet long led to the chamber which was

roughly 4 feet in diameter. Cinquefoil brush and grass had been used for

the bed. This den was still usable six years after it was dug. But

another den dug in October caved in the following summer. It lacked the

firm protective sod roof of the more durable den.

Bears, like humans, enjoy a good back-scratching. Trees along a trail or

on some strategic point are much used, as shown by the rubbing signs and

the adhering hairs. If trees are not available, willow brush, a boulder

or a sod bank may be used. The corner of a log cabin is considered an

excellent surface. A pole lying on the ground is a fair substitute, and

where no structure is available and a bear feels itchy he may lie on the

ground with all four feet in the air, wriggling ludicrously with

excessive energy to do the job.

Generally the grizzlies wander freely over the tundra. But they are not

averse to taking advantage of a convenient trail when they have a

definite destination. Trails that are much used by bears, such as we

sometimes find along the bank of a river or through a woods, show a

series of worn depressions. These depressions are due to the grizzlies’

tendency to step in the same tracks. They no doubt have been formed by

the passage of many bears over a long period. Pieces of such bear trails

may be seen a half mile above Teklanika bridge and a short distance

below the bridge, on the west side of the river bar.

The grizzly has survived in only a few states, more by accident than by

our planning for his future. In Alaska we have a great opportunity for

giving the grizzly and the rest of the fauna ample room for carrying on

their living in a natural, free manner. The grizzly needs extensive

wilderness country for his way of life, and wild country is also vital

for the highest development of human culture. If we provide for the

future of the grizzly, we at the same time provide wilderness for our

own needs.

Black Bear

_Euarctos americanus_

The black bear is widely distributed in Alaska. In the park it is

confined to the forested areas along the north and east boundaries. I

have occasionally seen one near the Nenana River and in the Wonder Lake

area I have seen them 3 or 4 miles north of the park feeding on

blueberries.

Black bears may be black or brown, but those I have seen at McKinley

have all been of the black color phase. The black bear lacks the

pronounced shoulder hump of the grizzly. The tan muzzle is also

distinctive. Equipped with strong, curved claws, the black bear climbs

trees with surprising agility, a talent the grizzly seems to lack.

The food habits of the black bear are similar to those of the grizzly,

but in general they spend more time turning over rocks and tearing apart

logs in search of insect life. They feed on herbs and grass, are fond of

berries, hunt mice and dig out ground squirrels, and are ever on the

alert for carrion. In the Rocky Mountains and on the West Coast, they

occasionally strip the bark from trunks of spruces, pines, and firs in

order to feed on the inner cambium layer. Along the coast of Alaska they

sometimes congregate to feed on spawning salmon.

Where we have bears we have potential bear problems. Roadside feeding of

bears creates beggar bears—always dangerous. Allowing bears to obtain

food in cabins or camps demoralizes them, encourages them in a life of

plunder and general anti-human depredations—the usual outcome is damage

to humans and the death of the bears. A point of view generally

disregarded by all is the effect of garbage on the bears. No garbage

should be made available to bears anywhere for the simple reason that

such artificial food interferes with the natural feeding habits of bears

and their natural distribution, tending to congregate large numbers of

them in a limited area. Administrators and public alike must ever be

heedful of the problem. Clean campsites and proper garbage disposal are

desirable in this regard.

Caribou

_Rangifer arcticus stonei_

The caribou is a circumpolar deer adapted to life in the Arctic. Both

sexes carry antlers and even the calves grow a spike 6 or 8 inches long.

The cow’s antlers are small and branching; those of the old bull are

towering and picturesque, with a well-developed brow tine extending over

the nose from one or both antlers. As you see the caribou in his easy,

swinging trot, you will perhaps notice his big feet. The hoofs, rounded

and spreading, and the dew claws well developed, serve him as snowshoes

in winter, and as a broad support in the soft tundra.

[Illustration: Caribou.]

Each spring the caribou appear in faded, dun coats, their color pattern

gone, the long hair worn and frayed. Winter hardships are behind and the

sprouting, nutritious, vitamin-packed green forage is available—nature’s

restorative. On the hummocks the caribou are already finding the new

growth of sedge hidden by the old, leached, brown blades. As the winter

coat is shed, and the new black pelage shows in patches, the animals

have a moth-eaten look.

In May and early June, the caribou that have wintered along the north

boundary of the park and northward to Lake Minchumina, move into the

park, continue eastward to the Teklanika and Sanctuary rivers, and cross

to the south side of the Alaska Range over the glaciers at the heads of

these rivers. At this time the bands are small, numbering from a few

individuals to one or two hundred. After feeding on the south side of

the range for 2 or 3 weeks, the caribou return en masse, usually in late

June or early July, but in 1960 about the middle of June. Herds

numbering one or two thousand are not unusual, and I have seen an

assemblage of four or five thousand. The herds cross Sable Pass and

travel parallel with the road to Muldrow Glacier. From there they may

strike northward or continue on westward. In August and September at

least a few caribou may be found especially in the Wonder Lake area.

Caribou are inordinately fond of lichens which they eagerly feed upon at

all seasons. In summer they take advantage of the variety of foods

available and feed extensively on grasses, many herbaceous species,

willows, and lichens. Lichens are much sought in fall and winter, and in

these seasons grasses and sedges continue to be major foods.

Caribou are plagued by warble flies and nostril flies throughout the

summer. These beelike insects cause the caribou great annoyance. The

warble fly lays eggs on the hair of the legs and underparts of the body.

The eggs soon hatch, the larvae penetrate the hide, and move to the back

region where they emerge as swollen larvae in the spring. The nostril

flies deposit living larvae in the nostrils. The larvae become lodged

back in the throat in a mass and the following spring are coughed out;

they pupate on the ground, and soon emerge as terrorizing flies. A

caribou may dash away in panic to escape a fly, then stop in a wet sedgy

depression and hold its nose close to the ground. Thus it may stand for

long periods if not attacked. On sunny days when the flies are very

active, the movement of the herds is drastically influenced. The large

herds may seek a high, breezy ridge, or a snowfield, to minimize the

attack. Commonly, one or two thousand on such days assemble in a compact

group on a broad gravel bar where they may stand all day. Should clouds

cover the sun, the herd disperses to feed, but again converges if the

sun reappears.

[Illustration: A caribou bull.]

By midsummer the old hair has been shed and the caribou are in a short

blackish coat that continues to grow. Not until September is this new

pelage fully developed. By then it has become a rich chocolate brown,

trimmed with white. The pattern is most striking in the old bulls. A

silvery cape covers the neck and part of the shoulders and forms a mane

on the throat. A white line extends back along the sides of the body,

and the belly is white. The blunt nose is tipped with white and an oval

white patch surrounds the tail. A white patch shows the location of the

upper gland on the hind legs. White anklets border each shiny black

hoof. The pattern is similar, but much more subdued in the cows and

younger bulls.

The magnificent antlers of the old bulls have hardened by late August.

The velvet covering them during their growth is now rubbed off with a

vigor suggesting the oncoming rut. At first the white antlers are often

stained pinkish by the blood in the velvet. Continued rubbing on the

brush removes the pinkish color and the antlers develop to a rich brown.

The bulls begin to spar soon after rubbing off the velvet. Even before

serious fighting occurs, a bull may show his superiority to some of his

companions. At this time two strange bulls do not hesitate to approach

each other and, with no preliminaries, join antlers and try to drive

each other back. These early fights are brief and on a more or less

friendly basis. A sharp prong may cause a bull to pull away and be

unwilling to resume sparring. But later, when a bull has acquired cows,

up to a dozen or two, he herds them constantly, and fights all

challengers.

The single reddish calf is generally born in May. His strength and speed

develop rapidly so that he is soon able to follow the herds in their

hurried travels. By autumn he has acquired a coat similar to that of the

adults.

A close relationship exists between the caribou and the wolf, one that

has prevailed for thousands of years. Although the wolf largely subsists

on caribou over much of the north, natural adjustments have prevailed so

that caribou have prospered in the presence of wolf populations. Wolves

prey extensively on caribou calves in spring. When a wolf takes after a

herd of caribou containing calves, both old and young hold their own for

a time. But soon a calf may begin to fall behind the racing herd, its

endurance not quite up to that of the others. It is overtaken and

eliminated. Natural selection has operated, a culling operation that

over eons of time would seem to have evolutionary significance.

Grizzly bears capture a few very young calves. Encouraged by their

early-season success they continue chasing calves long after the calves

have gained strength and speed enough to readily escape. After a few

failures, I suspect that a grizzly learns that the calf-catching season

has passed and is no longer tempted to gallop ponderously and

fruitlessly with excess power but not sufficient fleetness to capture

fleeing calves.

Moose

_Alces alces gigas_

The northern conifer forest, stretching across the continent, is the

home of the moose. In Alaska he has reached his greatest size. A mature

bull weighs 12 to 15 hundred pounds, and his huge, palmate antlers have

reached a record spread of about 80 inches.

At a distance the moose appears to be black except for his long,

light-colored stockings. The large head is supported on a short neck, a

shoulder hump is prominent, the nose is loose and bulbous. A special

feature is the bell that hangs from the throat. The legs are

inordinately long and the hoofs sharp.

Moose may be discovered anywhere along the park road. They are

frequently to be seen between Savage and Sanctuary rivers, and along

Igloo Creek. In the Igloo Creek area three or four old bulls may

generally be found spending the summer together, their daily movements

usually covering about a half-mile or less. We speak of the moose as a

forest animal, but it is often found the year round in willow brush

beyond timber. It is not uncommon to see moose in the willows on the

treeless passes such as Sable and Polychrome.

The principal food of the moose is browse. In summer the leaves are

stripped from the branches; at other seasons the twigs are eaten.

Willows and dwarf birch are the chief browse species in the park. Aspens

and cottonwoods are relished but are not plentiful enough to be very

important. Alder is generally eaten only sparingly in winter. Farther

south over the moose’s range, firs and hemlock are highly palatable in

winter. The long legs enable the moose to reach high in his browsing. It

is not unusual to find winter browsing sign 12 feet or more from the

ground where the moose have stood on snow to feed. Tall willow brush and

aspen saplings are often broken over in order to get at the twigs out of

reach. The muzzle may be used for this, or the limb may be grasped in

the mouth and pulled down. Many broken willows are evident on the bars

along Igloo Creek.

The long legs and short neck make grazing difficult. In Wyoming I once

saw a cow and calf feeding on mushrooms, a delicacy. Reaching the ground

was not easy—the calf dropped to his knees, and the cow was for part of

the time down on one knee.

In summer moose may be seen in lakes and ponds feeding on submerged

vegetation. Where the water is deep the moose may disappear below the

surface in his feeding.

[Illustration: Bull moose in a snowstorm.]

[Illustration: Yearling moose.]

Rutting activities begin by the first of September and continue into

October. The antlers of the bulls have reached full size and hardened by

the end of August, at which time the bulls begin to rub off the velvet,

the skin that has covered the growing antlers. Saplings and brush are

thrashed with great vigor, and this activity continues long after the

antlers have been cleaned. Apparently it serves as one of the outlets

for the strong rutting emotions. The bulls soon begin to spar and to

determine who is boss over whom. And they begin to seek the cows. A

successful bull usually has but a single cow, and he follows her closely

as she moves about in her feeding. During the rut he utters at intervals

a deep grunt. The cow, apparently when in an emotional state, utters a

drawn-out wailing call.

The one or two calves are generally born in late May or early June. They

are reddish without spots. The mother must sometimes protect her calf

from prowling grizzlies and this she generally seems fully capable of

doing, judging from incidents in which the bear is chased away by an

infuriated mother. A large male grizzly, however, is apparently not

easily discouraged. By autumn the calves have made a surprising growth

and have a new coat that resembles that of the adults. They remain with

the mother until near the time for a new calf, when she no longer

tolerates their presence.

The moose is a wilderness animal, requiring for his haunts big country.

The picturesque bull, silhouetted on a hill or on a lake shore, adds

repose and serenity to the wilderness.

Dall Sheep

_Ovis dalli_

The Dall or white sheep is one of the outstanding wildlife features of

the park. The north side of the greater part of the Alaska Range is

excellent sheep habitat. Within the park the most extensive sheep

country extends from the Nenana River to the Muldrow glacier, a distance

of about 70 miles by road.

Most of the sheep spend the winter north of the road. This is favorable

winter range because the snowfall is relatively light and strong winds

keep the exposed ridges free of snow.

Many sheep remain on the winter range all year, but more of them migrate

toward the heads of the rivers in May and June. In making the migration,

the sheep must in places cross 2 or 3 miles of low country. They are

fully aware of their vulnerability to grizzlies and wolves in these

crossings. Before venturing away from a safe take-off ridge, they may

scrutinize the low country for a day or two, until they feel that no

danger lurks along the way. A band of 60 or 70 sheep may move across

slowly in a rather compact group; at other times urgency replaces

caution and they frequently break into a hurried gallop. Having reached

the safety of rough country again, the sheep may gambol about as though

the weight of tension has suddenly been lifted. The return migration is

made in August and September.

The large amber-colored horns of the rams with transverse ridges and

sweeping outward curl have a rugged, graceful beauty. They may spread

widely at the tips or curl rather close to the head. The ewes are less

imposing. Their horns are slender spikes that extend upward in a slight

curve, resembling those of the mountain goat but they lack the shiny jet

black color and are not as sharp. The horns are never shed and continue

to grow throughout the sheep’s life span of 11 to 14 years. The growth

is slight during the later years. Growth takes place during the summer

when food is highly nutritious. In winter only a groove or ridge

encircling the horn is formed. By counting these annual rings the age of

a sheep can be determined.

For detecting danger the sheep depend on their sharp eyes. They appear

to disregard scent which for many animals is the final decisive word on

any situation. But this seems quite logical, because the sheep generally

have a strategic view, and in the varying air currents no dependence can

be placed on getting scent messages. Noises are considered rather

unimportant unless the sheep have already caught a glimpse of movement

nearby.

To approach sheep for photography it is usually best to move slowly

toward them from below with no attempt to hide. They at once become

suspicious if they glimpse someone stalking. However, I have at times

stalked sheep where the opportunity for undetected close observation was

obvious. On one occasion, from a ragged rocky ridge top, I spent most of

an afternoon watching a band of rams some 50 yards away without being

discovered. Some bands are wilder than others and the same band does not

always behave uniformly. A band that has rested and is ready to move may

take your approach as an excuse for a romp.

The food of sheep consists of grasses, herbaceous species and browse,

chiefly willow. Scattered over the range are a number of salt licks

which the sheep seek for minerals.

The most active mating period extends from about the middle of November

to the middle of December. The rams who have been fraternizing on

friendly terms for many months, now and then showing mating behavior

such as gentle joustings, begin to take greater notice of the ewes. The

old rams continue to associate, but now serious battling takes place.

The fighting follows rather uniform conventional rules. The two matched

battlers move apart several yards, then, as though by a signal, they

turn and face each other and at the same time rise up on their hind

legs, then charge full speed at each other, their horns crashing

together with a loud thud. If the joust is even, they may repeat the

performance until the superiority of one of the combatants is evident.

But there is some tolerance among the rams, for two or more may breed

with ewes in a band indiscriminately.

The numbers of sheep on a range under natural conditions may vary

considerably. In the park, a very high population, possibly as high as

5,000 or more, suffered severe losses during 1929 and again in 1932, due

to extremely deep snow conditions, and an icy crust in the latter year.

In 1945 the population was down to about 500. Since 1945 there has been

a steady increase. The numbers in 1959 were up to about 2,000.

[Illustration: Dall sheep; rams on the Alaska Range in summer.]

Sheep are subject to wolf predation, especially when the numbers are so

high that part of the population must graze on hills too gentle for

safety. Sheep legs are strong and sturdy but for their effective

functioning steep country is needed. The steep terrain is, so to speak,

part of their legs. In my studies in the park, the losses showed that it

was the very old, the ailing, and the lambs in their first winter that

were most vulnerable to predation. The lynx (when rabbit numbers have

crashed and these animals have become scarce), wolverine, and grizzly

may capture an occasional sheep but their effect is unimportant. The

golden eagle may capture an occasional young lamb, but all my

observations and food-habit studies indicate that any eagle predation

that takes place is insignificant. If the park is large enough to

support the sheep and their predators (natural conditions), we have a

situation ideal for the future of the sheep.

Mountain sheep have a high esthetic appeal. In part this may be due to

their setting, for we associate them with their beautiful haunts, the

precipitous cliffs and ledges intermingled with green slopes spangled

with flowers. This is idyllic country in which to hike and climb. Here

we encounter the golden eagle who shares the ridge tops with the sheep;

the wheatear, who comes all the way from Asia to nest; the gray-crowned

rosy finches; the flashing black and white snowbirds nesting in rock

crevices; and the surfbird that has left the ocean beaches to nest in

these remote mountains. And up high, the saxifrages, delicate yellow

poppies, forget-me-nots and spring beauties add color to it all.

Mountain Goat

_Oreamnos kennedyi_

On May 27, 1955, a goat was discovered on Igloo Mountain on the slope

directly above the cabin I was occupying. It remained on the mountain

for 3 weeks before wandering away. It has not been seen since. This is

the only verified record for the park. But two road men reported seeing

a goat cross the road at Mile 3, on August 8, 1950. I believe this to be

a good record because both men are reliable observers. In the fall of

1950 a goat was shot at Cantwell, not far from the park boundary.

The nearest known goat range is about 60 miles from the park in the

Talkeetna Mountains. The goats that reached the park may have been

sporadic wanderers for it is not unusual for goats to occasionally

wander 25 or 30 miles from their known ranges. On the other hand, it is

possible that the goats are expanding their range toward the park. In

1959, I was told that a band of a dozen goats had been reported at the

head of Jack River where they had not been reported before. Jack River

lies between the goat range and the park.

Identification is not difficult. The goat’s horns are short, slightly

curved spikes, similar to the horns of the female sheep, but shiny black

and smooth rather than grayish and rugose. The goat’s chin whiskers are

identifying, as is the shoulder hump, and the knee length pantaloons of

long hair. Also the goat’s face is noticeably longer than that of sheep.

The goat sexes are similar.

It is not unlikely that goats will continue to be occasionally seen in

the park. Any lone “sheep” might turn out to be a goat.

[Illustration: Alaska wolf.

_From a color sketch by William J. Berry._]

Wolf

_Canis lupus pambasileus_

Wolves vary considerably in size and color. The average male weighs

about 100 pounds and the female somewhat less, about 85 pounds. Their

color may be almost white, black, gray, or brown. Most wolves in

interior Alaska are either black or brownish like a coyote. The facial

markings show some variation and there may occasionally be noticeable

patterns over the rest of the body. A few wolves have a blackish saddle;

one that I knew had a black robber-mask across the eyes. Individual

disposition and behavior also varies. A handsome male had an extra touch

of spirit in his gallop; a male parent had a dour expression and seemed,

to my imagination, weighted with care. Wolves raised in captivity from

puppyhood are extremely friendly.

For a den, the wolf considers an enlarged fox burrow both convenient and

suitable. Dens have been found in a variety of situations. One was

located on a wooded rock bluff, another was beyond timber near the top

of a bluff bordering a river, and one was on a wooded island between old

river channels. The four to six young, probably the average size of

litter, are born the early part of May. The mother remains at home with

the pups and the male provides the victuals.

At one den that I observed closely there were two extra males and an

extra female with the pair. These wolves all fraternized in the most

friendly manner. Before departing for the night hunt, the five would

sometimes assemble in a close group, wag tails and frisk about, and

sitting on haunches sing in chorus. Later in the season this group of

five adults was joined by two additional males.

The following year the same pair returned to the den. They were

accompanied by one of the extra males that had been at the den the

previous year. The extra female and one of the bachelors set up their

own housekeeping farther down the river. But when their pups were large

enough to travel, they all came up the river and joined the original

pair. Young and old combined added up to 15 wolves. This wolf pack was

composed of two pairs, an extra adult, and 10 pups. Some of the extra

wolves of the previous year were not seen—they may have been trapped or

poisoned beyond the park boundaries during the winter months.

The wolf’s food varies with the seasons and the prey species available.

When voles and lemmings are plentiful, the wolves may spend hours in the

grass and sedge areas pouncing on them. During the summer months the

ground squirrel has at times been one of the more important food items.

Occasionally an unfortunate marmot is surprised and in years when

rabbits are plentiful, the snowshoe rabbit becomes a food source. I have

found remains of several porcupines eaten by wolves, the spine-covered

hide neatly inverted.

But the wolf also, and primarily, feeds on the ungulates—the mountain

sheep, caribou, and moose. Under natural conditions the relationship

between the wolf and these prey species is old and tried. There is the

aphorism, “nothing in nature offends nature.” In the hunting of these

animals the wolf appears to be an evolutionary force in that there is a

tendency for the weaker individuals to succumb.

In spring the wolf hunts the caribou calves, which early develop

surprising speed, so that when a wolf chases a group of caribou, the

calves race along with the adults. But after a time a weak calf, one not

up to the others in endurance, may begin to drop behind, and it is this

weak individual that is overtaken, an example of the elimination of the

weak, the survival of the fittest. In the winter hunting, the old and

weak animals are the most susceptible. It is a struggle, a testing for

all, but through the ages, the sheep, moose, and caribou have survived

and come down to us adapted to their particular way of life, with the

wolf as one of the environmental factors.

At McKinley we have an opportunity to preserve a northern flora and

fauna. But the future of the wolf is precarious because the home range

of the park wolves extends beyond park boundaries into territory where

the wolf has no protection, where there is a bounty on his head. The

silencing of the longdrawn call of the wolf would be a tragic loss to

the human spirit.

Coyote

_Canis latrans incolatus_

So far as known, the coyote has always been rare out in the park. Along

the Nenana River, however, I frequently have heard his song. Here he

seems to find conditions more favorable for his way of life. Perhaps it

is the presence of the snowshoe rabbit in this low brushy country that

attracts him.

[Illustration: Coyote.]

[Illustration: Red fox.]

The coyote weights about 25 pounds on the average. His color is brownish

with black-tipped hairs intermingled. Color variation in coyotes is so

slight it is not noticeable in the field; he does not have the black,

whitish and various color patterns that are present in the wolf. The

muzzle is long and pointed, ears well developed, eyes sharp.

As a field biologist I have had an opportunity to observe coyotes in

many regions. In Yellowstone I made a 2-year study of its relationships

with other animals because it had been feared by some that he would

destroy the antelope, bighorn, and deer, if not controlled. The study

showed that the coyote there lived chiefly on meadow mice and pocket

gophers in summer, and carrion in winter, and that he had no harmful

effect on the large ungulates.

On the San Carlos Indian Reservation in Arizona the coyote was blamed

for cattle losses. Here a study showed that the basic cause of losses

was over-use of the range and that where grazing was good all losses

were insignificant. Cattlemen are finding this true and are beginning to

appreciate the usefulness of the coyote as a curbing influence on rodent

depredations. In addition to a meat diet, which includes great

quantities of grasshoppers in season, the coyote feeds extensively on

fruit. On Isle Royale, in Lake Superior, I found it feeding on

sarsaparilla berries; in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, on silverberry and

quantities of haw; in Arizona, on manzanita and juniper berries, the

latter being the winter staff of life.

The coyote is best known for his song, which in all its variations,

symbolizes the spirit of wildness and remote country. J. Frank Dobie in

his _The Voice of the Coyote_ expresses the sentiment of many when he

writes: “I confess to a sympathy for the coyote that has grown until it

lives in the deepest part of my nature.”

Red Fox

_Vulpes fulva alascensis_

The fabled red fox is abundant, widely distributed over the park and

frequently seen. Silver, cross, and red color phases, along with some

intermediate variants, are well represented, and two or three of these

types frequently show up in a single litter. The prominent white tip on

the tail distinguishes the fox from the coyote and wolf.

Hundreds of dens are scattered over the countryside, many more than are

used in any one season. They are located indiscriminately in spruce

woods and out on the open tundra miles from the nearest tree. Each pair

has a selection of old dens to choose from, but often they occupy

favorite sites year after year. During a season, a family sometimes

moves from their first choice to a den nearby. The connecting burrows of

a den usually have 5 or 6 entrances and one I examined had 19.

The young are born the early part of May. By June the blackish,

blue-eyed, chubby pups may be seen walking about clumsily. At this age

they are nursed in the open. One mother that I often watched almost

always nursed her five pups from a standing position. Only twice did I

see her lying on her side to nurse. As the pups grow they become slimmer

and the eyes turn brown and the coat color changes so that the different

color types can be identified. Although nursing seems to cease toward

the end of June, the cubs remain at the den into September.

While the male travels far to hunt, the vixen remains at home to watch

over the pups. Most of the time she is curled up at the den or perhaps a

hundred yards away on a prominence. When she wishes to nurse the pups or

give them food, she puts her head in the mouth of a burrow and calls

softly “mmmmm,” “mmmmm.” If they do not come forth, she may go to

another entrance and call. But usually they respond at once. A sharp,

guttural “klung” has the opposite meaning; when the pups hear this

warning they scurry into a burrow. This command is often given after the

pups have nursed and the mother wants to go off a short distance to lie

down.

The female exhibits extreme friendliness toward her mate. When he

returns to the den after an absence she greets him with tail-wagging,

face-licking and much wriggling of her body. He is less demonstrative

and acts tired, which he probably is after several hours of hunting. She

picks up his offerings—usually mice or ground squirrels—eats her fill

or, if not hungry, carries the booty to the burrows and calls to the

young. He moves off to one side to rest. She sometimes watches for his

return from various points. One evening a vixen impatiently moved from

one lookout to another for over 2 hours before the male arrived and

received her warm welcome.

Mice and lemmings are the staple all-year food, but in summer the ground

squirrel may make up about half the diet. When snowshoe hares and

ptarmigan are plentiful, they become prominent in the diet. Carrion is

especially attractive in winter, and the fox attends carcasses and curls

up on the snow to wait until the wolves and wolverine have eaten. He

robs wolf and wolverine caches, and he sometimes has his own caches

robbed.

In the latter part of July the foxes go berrying, for they are fond of

fruit. Blueberries and crowberries are everywhere available for the

picking. The berries are also eaten in winter sometimes, it is said,

quite extensively when mice are scarce.

Foxes appear to be well able to take care of themselves. They can outrun

the grizzly, wolf, and wolverine. When the golden eagle swoops at him he

stands on watch with his bushy tail erect and straight as a ramrod. The

eagle dares not strike.

Lynx

_Lynx canadensis_

The lynx manner is one of independence, confidence and complacency. He

walks through the woods with dignity, looking neither right nor left. Of

course, he is not as oblivious as he appears to be. He may even stop to

watch you, but only briefly, and then he continues sedately on his way.

His long legs are thicker than seem necessary to support the lean body,

but they are no doubt valuable for long jumps and pouncing. The large,

widespreading feet serve him well as snowshoes, and strong, curved claws

enable him to scramble readily up a tree. The eyes are startlingly big

and yellow and the throat ruff gives to the face a squarish look. Long,

glistening black tassels adorn the ears. The stub tail, about 4 inches

long and tipped with black, serves to register emotions. The winter fur

is soft and grayish, with few markings except for the facial pattern;

the summer coat is more tawny.

Nature has bestowed on the lynx a snowshoe fixation so that he spends

his nights and days thinking and dreaming of rabbit dinners. So

dependent has he become on the rabbit for his main course that his

numbers flourish and wane in the wake of rabbit statistics.

During the period between 1954 and 1956, when lynx were abundant in the

park, I made a study of their food habits by analyzing several hundred

lynx scats. In addition to rabbits, the lynx had fed considerably on

ptarmigan and in summer on ground squirrels. This part of the diet

increased as the rabbits decreased. But with the decline of the rabbits,

the supplemental foods did not suffice to maintain the population, and

the lynx became scarce.

[Illustration: Lynx.]

In the winter of 1907-08, Charles Sheldon noted two instances of lynx

preying on sheep. The rabbit population had crashed and the lynx had

turned to other sources for survival. One lynx that made its attack on a

sheep from ambush found the prey rather large, for in the ensuing

struggle he received some severe bruises. He apparently was driven to

hunting animals out of his class. About 2 years after rabbits

disappeared in the Kuskokwim River region a number of years ago, lynx

did some preying on reindeer in winter by leaping on their backs and

biting the neck. The lynx were said to have attacked the reindeer only

that one winter. During periods of food scarcity, lynx have also been

observed to prey on each other.

The young are born in May in a cave, or perhaps more often, under a

windfall. The gestation period is about 60 days.

In early June, 1955, I saw a lynx in the spruce woods near Savage River.

As I stood watching I heard crying sounds up in the woods. The lynx

disappeared in the direction of the crying. I followed and saw the

parent under a windfall as it was departing with a baby in its mouth,

the last of a litter it was moving. Snow and rain had fallen and the

mother was carrying her family, one by one, from under an inadequate

windfall to another about 250 yards away. The new home was under a

brushy spruce that provided a dry shelter in any kind of weather. So

well hidden and secure did the mother feel that she barely opened her

sleepy eyes even when approached within 20 feet.

How empty the woods and willow patches become with the decline of the

rabbits and the departure of the lynx. It is like an empty stage after

the actors have finished their play and departed. Scattered through the

quiet woods are their signs of life and activity, but the action has

stopped. On the tall willows, 6 feet from the ground, is the gnawed

white rabbit-line, where rabbits had sat on the snow and gnawed the bark

within reach. In places the ground is littered with severed twigs, many

of them partially gnawed. And everywhere one encounters tufts of rabbit

fur and hind legs, left on the green moss, signifying rabbit tragedies

and lynx banquets. But the rabbits will return again to dance in the

moonlight, and the lynx will be back in his rich domain walking with

stately and regal step.

Wolverine

_Gulo hylaeus_

The fabulous wolverine is a powerful and picturesque member of the

weasel tribe weighing up to 35 pounds or more. Because of his stocky

build and long hair, he resembles a small bear. Frequently the large

hoary marmot is mistaken for him—there is considerable similarity. But

the broad yellowish-tan stripe on the sides of the body is distinctive.

A whitish collar, not always visible, extends across the throat. The

tail is short and bushy; the sharp, well-developed claws are whitish.

His range is circumpolar and extends southward in the mountains to

Colorado and California, but he is now scarce south of Canada.

The wolverine in late years seems to have become more plentiful in the

park; nevertheless, it is always considered something special to see

one. They range from river bottom to ridge top, are found in the woods

or in open country miles beyond timber. Perhaps because of the open

view, he is frequently seen on the low passes, especially on Sable Pass.

In winter the track of the far-wandering wolverine is frequently seen.

In his usual gait he bounces along with back arched. Each jump usually

leaves a set of three imprints; the one in front is made by a hind foot;

the middle imprint is made by a hind foot falling in the track of a

front foot; the rear imprint is made by the other front foot. As in the

tracks of a hopping rabbit, the hind feet tend to be brought up ahead of

the front feet.

The wolverine readily climbs trees. One winter, near a moose carcass,

tracks in the snow showed that a wolf had chased a wolverine up a tree

on two or three occasions. If the two had met in the open the

threatening posture of the wolverine would, no doubt, be sufficient to

discourage attack. When attacked by a dog, a wolverine has been seen to

lie on its back in a defensive attitude, a position that was effective.

Powerful ripping claws and jaws face the attack.

Not much quantitative information has been gathered on his food habits.

I have watched him pouncing on mice and suspect that mice (voles) and

lemmings are the most important items in his diet. In summer he captures

ground squirrels, sometimes by doing some digging. Once I noted that he

had dug out a wasp nest hidden in the ground. The calves of caribou and

moose, when very young, are no doubt potential victims. But observations

indicate that even a caribou can ward off an attack on the young calves.

Such items would, of course, be unimportant in the wolverine’s total

economy. His wide wanderings in winter would seem to be helpful in

finding carrion. In rich wild country, considerable carrion probably

comes his way. I have found the wolverine attending a frozen moose

carcass for a number of days. When a carcass is not frozen, he carries

away what he can to cache for later use.

The gestation period is said to be about 9 months. The breeding

apparently takes place in summer. The fertilized eggs, after brief

development, lie unattached and dormant in the uterus for several

months. Some time in midwinter the eggs become attached to the wall of

the uterus and the more usual development takes place. (The marten and

short-tailed weasel have a similar breeding history.) Females have been

found in a nursing condition in early April. Along Igloo Creek, Mr. and

Mrs. Edwin C. Park watched a mother nurse two young at least two-thirds

grown.

[Illustration: Wolverine.]

According to Peter Krott, in his fascinating book about the wolverine in

Europe, this fierce animal makes a friendly pet. The author, in the

beginning, made a business of acquiring young wolverines for sale to

zoos. Because the animal was rare and intriguing, the demand was great

and the prices remunerative. But Mr. Krott and his wife became fond of

the wolverines and found it ever harder to dispose of them. Soon they

ceased selling them, and, instead, kept them as pets and allowed them to

roam freely over wild country. Studies were made of their habits. Their

wolverines might wander far and stay away for several days, but they

would return at intervals.

The wolverine is at home in the McKinley wilderness. Here we have the

rare opportunity of seeing him in his natural environment.

Marten

_Martes americana actuosa_

The marten is long and lithe, and its graceful activity is conspicuous.

The usual color is a rich brown, shading to blackish on the feet and

tail. The face is grayish with a short, dark line extending upward from

the inner corner of each eye. A large orange throat and breast patch is

very striking in most individuals. The fur is soft and long, the tail is

long and well-furred, and serves to register various emotions. The

marten is alert to sounds and this is indicated by its well-developed,

broad ears.

The body is 16 to 17 inches long, and the tail, including hair at tips,

8 or 9 inches. A large male may weigh up to 2½ pounds. The female is

somewhat smaller than the male.

The marten is found in the forested parts of the park along the northern

and eastern boundary. In winter, I have noted a few tracks in the big

spruce woods south of Wonder Lake. In Wyoming, I have found martens in

rock slides beyond timber, the rock crevasses furnishing the desired

protection.

[Illustration: Marten.]

At one time the marten was thought to depend on the red squirrel for his

daily fare, but recent studies indicate that ordinarily relatively few

red squirrels are eaten. A food-habits study made at Castle Rocks near

the northwest corner of the park showed that the martens there were

living primarily on meadow voles and the red-backed mouse. Blueberries

were eaten in winter as well as in summer. In Wyoming, I have found

martens feeding extensively on blueberry, rhamnus, haw, and mountain

ashberries by choice at a time when voles and other foods were

plentiful. Like the fox and coyote, they have a strong predilection for

berries. In slide rock, they manage to capture an occasional pika.

The marten breeds in July and August, but the young are not born until 9

months later. The long gestation period for such a small animal is due

to the delayed attachment of the fertilized egg to the uterus. Except

for the period when the female is followed by young, and during the

breeding period, martens travel alone.

In Grand Teton Park, Wyoming, where I had much opportunity to observe

martens, I found that, although they seldom captured a red squirrel, in

their vagabond life over their home area, they did use red squirrel

homes for sleeping. The marten might spend a few days resting in a

squirrel’s spare nest, then move on to another squirrel domicile for a

few days. The squirrels suffered only the inconvenience of an unwanted

guest, and perhaps the temporary loss of a favorite bed.

Mink

_Mustela vison ingens_

The mink is the amphibious member of the weasel family. He lives along

rivers and lakes and probably forages more in the water than on land.

Fish, frogs, insects, snails, crayfish, rabbits, muskrats, and mice all

appear on his bill of fare. In the country between the mouth of the

Yukon and the Kuskokwim River, the mink is said to subsist largely on

Alaska blackfish (_Dallia pectoralis_). So abundant were the mink in the

area that the Eskimo were called “mink people.” The muddy waters in this

watery region apparently supported enough blackfish for both the mink

and the natives. This fish is said to have been the chief food of the

natives. It is very tenacious of life. Kegs of live fish, packed

densely, were kept for food in the dwellings. A steady slow rotary

movement of the mass of fish brought each fish to the surface at

intervals for a gulp of air. When a frozen blackfish is thawed, it is

said to become as lively as ever.

Mink tracks have been noted along the Nenana River, but over most of the

eastern half of the park the mink is rare.

River Otter

_Lutra canadensis yukonensis_

The otter is rare in the park. It was reported present in Wonder Lake

some years ago and tracks in the snow were reported at Savage River. It

probably occurs in the Nenana River, along the eastern park boundary.

The otter, a member of the weasel family, has become adapted to life in

the water. His body is about 3 feet long, and his long muscular tail is

over a foot long. His cousin, the sea otter, plentiful in the Aleutian

Islands, is much larger and more specialized for an aquatic life.

I have watched a family of otters in Grand Teton Park fishing for an

hour or longer. They kept diving steadily, and occasionally one would

come up with a small fish which he would proceed to eat, beginning at

the head. Larger fish are taken ashore. Trout, chubs, and suckers were

available but numerous droppings showed that the otter were feeding

chiefly on the chubs and suckers. The fish taken were no doubt those

most easily captured. A few crayfish were also eaten. This particular

family was living in a large beaver house also occupied by beavers. They

entered their chamber by land and apparently lived upstairs above the

beaver’s part of the house with its underwater entrance.

In winter the otter frequently travels over the snow from one piece of

water to another. In these travels he slides on his belly down all

slopes and sometimes even on the level. In play, a family may repeatedly

climb a mudbank or a snowbank to course down a slide leading into water.

Short-Tailed Weasel

_Mustela erminea arctica_

Two species of weasel occur in the park. The larger one with a

black-tipped tail is called the short-tailed weasel, and the smaller one

with an extremely short and all-white tail is the least weasel.

Both weasels are brown in summer and white in winter, a protective

coloration no doubt useful in escaping detection. In some southern parts

of their ranges these weasels remain brown all year, and in intermediate

areas part of the population turns white in winter and part of it

remains brown. It is apparent that climate has an effect on coat color,

the specific factor being the presence or absence of snow on the ground.

It has been pointed out that the short-tailed weasel is much larger in

the north than in the southern part of the range. In Wyoming and

Colorado, where the tiny least weasel is absent, the short-tailed weasel

approaches the least weasel in size and probably fills that weasel’s

niche in the environment.

The food of the short-tailed weasel probably consists chiefly of various

species of meadow mice and lemmings. Observations indicate that ground

squirrels and rabbits may occasionally be captured. Shrews no doubt are

also on the menu.

In winter, weasel tracks form an odd pattern. Their jumps are

alternately long and short, and often they make an erratic trail.

Frequently the tracks show that the weasel disappears and travels

beneath the surface for a stretch before reappearing.

Even though weasels are not very palatable because of their

well-developed musk glands, they nevertheless are often preyed upon. It

is a case of coyote or fox capturing any small animal that moves and

examining the victim afterwards. Weasels are often left uneaten.

[Illustration: Short-tailed weasel.]

Least Weasel

_Mustela rixosa eskimo_

The range of the least weasel is circumpolar. In North America it is

found over most of Alaska and Canada, and southward to Montana, Kansas,

North Carolina. It is widely dispersed but apparently nowhere abundant.

This tiny weasel is only 6 to 6½ inches long with a maximum tail length

of 1½ inches. It is the smallest living member of the carnivores and

weighs no more than a meadow mouse. The tail is pure white, lacking the

black tip present in other weasels.

I have a record of four specimens from the park. One captured in a

mousetrap was 5½ inches long, the tail measuring less than 1 inch. I

found a dead one at an eagle perch on a ridge top, and remains of two

others on gravel bars, apparently discarded after being captured.

A sourdough on the Koyokuk River with whom my brother and I stayed one

night, had a least weasel spending the winter with him. It had the run

of the cabin and was very tame.

Apparently the chief food of the least weasel is mice, some of them

about as large as himself.

Snowshoe Rabbit

_Lepus americanus macfarlani_

Like the ptarmigan and the northern weasel, the snowshoe rabbit, or

varying hare, each autumn changes from a dominantly brown summer coat to

a white winter ensemble. (In Washington where snow is scarce in its

habitat, the snowshoe rabbit remains brown the year round.) His coat

color blends at all seasons with his background, so all he need do to be

fairly sure of escaping visual detection is to have confidence in his

camouflage and sit motionless. The fur is so long, thick, and warm that

he can sit all day in fifty below zero weather without freezing. His

large hind legs are equipped with snowshoe feet, an obvious advantage in

snow country.

The most favorable rabbit habitat is the brushy country along the east

and north boundaries. Here a few may always be found. Out in the park

they are quite scarce except in those years when the population is at or

near a peak.

In winter, the rabbits feed on bark gnawed from various shrubs and

saplings. Willow, dwarf birch and alder, because of their high

palatability and abundance, are especially important winter foods. In

years of rabbit abundance, I have seen patches of willow and dwarf birch

trimmed to the snow line. At such times large willow brush may show a

white band 2 feet wide where the rabbits have gnawed the bark within

reach of the snow line. As the snow deepens, some foods are buried but

the change of level brings new food supplies within reach. A variety of

other shrubs are also eaten at this season. Spruce bark is relished.

Porcupines, and also red squirrels, feeding in a spruce tree

inadvertently add to the rabbit menu many dropped spruce twigs. In

summer, the rabbits turn to a variety of fresh green foods.

The young of the snowshoe rabbit are furred and active when born and

apparently there is no real nest provided. (In the cottontail branch of

the family the young are born hairless, helpless and in a warm nest.)

The litters may vary from one to six. The gestation period is about 36

days. The young are weaned (in captivity) when about 4 weeks old. The

females breed again soon after a litter is born. It seems likely that a

female may have as many as three or four litters during a summer. A male

is apparently with a female for only a short time.

A number of animals are subject to cycles of extreme abundance and

scarcity. The pendulum swings from one extreme to the other. A

population, in spite of enemies of all kinds, increases until the

numbers become so large that they threaten the food supply or, because

of congestion, are drastically reduced by diseases. The length of cycle

in a species depends upon annual losses and the rate of increase. Cycles

are relatively short in voles and lemmings which breed at an early age

(a few weeks), breed often, and have large litters. In these small

rodents the cycle may cover a span of about 4 years. In larger species,

the cycles are longer.

The snowshoe hare is one of the more obvious examples of a cyclic

species. From acute scarcity the population in about 10 years pyramids

until the country is full of rabbits. The woods are alive with a variety

of activity. Enterprise, lovemaking, and tragedy are at their peak. Not

only have the rabbits multiplied, but their enemies have flourished, and

the lynx, fox, wolverine and birds of prey have all prospered, and

certain enemies such as the lynx, become especially abundant.

During the high rabbit population peak, between 1953 and 1955, a few

dead rabbits began to appear in the summer of 1954. In early August a

group of tourists on a short walk noted three dead rabbits in the hotel

area. But the rabbits were still numerous in the spring of 1955 and I

anticipated the woods alive with young rabbits the following months.

Instead, they decreased. By July, along Igloo Creek, they had become

scarce. The so-called rabbit crash had taken place.

Nature steps into all situations, and one control or another

automatically appears. Food shortage, disease, predation or competition

enter the picture. Adjusting is a continuous process. Many people are

talking and writing about the human population explosion in our midst,

fearing that space for ourselves and nature is disappearing alarmingly.

Perhaps we should consider the snowshoe rabbit.

[Illustration: Snowshoe rabbit, or varying hare.]

Collared Pika

_Ochotona collaris_

The pika, cony, or rock rabbit, as he is variously called, makes his

home in rock slides. His way of life, and his physical attributes, are

such, that he would have difficulty surviving away from the labyrinth of

passages in his slide rock home.

The pika is in the same order (different family) as hares and rabbits.

Like rabbits, they have two pairs of upper incisors; back of the grooved

anterior incisors is a pair of very small incisors. The feet are furred;

the ears are not long but are rounded and prominent. Something has

happened to the external tail for there is none. The tail vertebrae lie

under the body skin. The plump body is about 6 or 7 inches long as the

cony sits on a rock; the color is gray.

[Illustration: Collared pika (cony, rock rabbit)]

The call is a single nasal “yank,” usually uttered while perched on a

rock where he can look around. He may be difficult to locate, but a

movement as he disappears in a crevice and reappears on the same rock or

one nearby will reveal him. Usually other calls from various parts of

the rock field will indicate the location of other pikas.

The pika is known for his hay making in preparation for the long winter.

During much of the summer he is busy carrying grass, herbs, and twigs to

his many caches located in cavities protected from the weather. The

vegetation is usually added slowly enough to the various caches so that

it all cures properly. Only occasionally is a cache moldy. I have noted

a few caches composed of the broad, heavy coltsfoot leaves that had

failed to dry properly; possibly these slow-drying leaves were harvested

in wet weather. Nearly all plants within range of his rocky habitat are

used. Willow, rose, grass, sedge, horsetail, various saxifrages,

fireweed, coltsfoot, fruiticose and even crustose lichens are some of

the many plants that have been found in the caches. Some books say that

the hay is spread over rocks to dry and then stored. The pika’s

technique is superior to such quick drying, and results in more

nutritious and greener hay.

The sheep, moose and caribou often seek mineral licks consisting of clay

which can be readily eaten. Ground squirrels and marmot feed on pebbles

or fine dust in their craving for minerals. On one occasion I watched a

pika gnawing a rock. A niche showed that a considerable amount of it had

been eaten. I carried the rock away as a sample of rock-eating but later

thought better of it and returned it to the pika. Perhaps in the future

I may be able to check the rock again.

Along the road, the first good place to look for pikas is in the jumble

of rocks above the Savage River bridge, an accumulation that has fallen

away from a rocky point, part of which is still in place. On Polychrome

Pass are several rock fields where many pikas are living. Another pika

place along the road is a mile or two beyond Camp Eilson. A pretty

picture is a pika carrying a bouquet of flowers, neatly arranged, as

though he were going a-courting.

Hoary Marmot

_Marmota caligata_

[Illustration: Hoary marmot mother and young.]

The hoary marmot is an amplified version of the eastern woodchuck. It is

roughly bicolor, being gray over the shoulder region and light brown

over the hips. The black patch across the nose enhances its facial

aspect somewhat, and the jet-black feet add a little contrast to its

appearance. He has a bushy tail that he jerks about a good deal,

especially when he travels. Occasionally, he is mistaken for a

wolverine. His soft color pattern is an excellent example of camouflage

and of this he apparently is aware as he flattens himself on a rock to

escape detection.

His voice is exceptional. One day, some years ago, I walked down Savage

Canyon with two companions. One of them, who stopped to photograph some

flowers, was left far behind. When he finally overtook us he said that

he had heard us whistling and had hurried as best he could. We said we

had not whistled, but he was still sure he had heard us. Then it dawned

on me that he had been hearing the loud piercing, prolonged warning

whistles of the marmots that make their homes in the canyon. This

whistle is one of the familiar sounds in marmot country. The approach of

a fox, grizzly bear or golden eagle is announced by loud whistling which

alerts everyone, including ground squirrels and mountain sheep, to be on

their guard.

One day three of us watched a youngish marmot high on a sheep ridge. He

was apprehensive and for a time whistled at intervals. When one of my

companions whistled in the same key, the marmot answered. But if the

imitation were off key there was no reply. The marmot responded as long

as our patience held. This instance may have been exceptional for I have

had no opportunity as yet to make additional observations.

The marmot has learned to seek a home in a rock fortress as a safeguard

against being excavated by a grizzly. Whenever possible the dens are dug

in rocky areas, or at rock outcrops. One den on a steep slope that I

observed for several years was enlarged and renovated each year. The

small rocks encountered in the digging were carried out in the mouth and

dropped on the edge of the mound. In late summer, mouthfuls of dry grass

are carried in for the winter hibernating nest. One look at the broad,

fat marmot suggests that he could sleep a long time without food. When

he retires, he may plug the entrance with rocks and mud.

The home life of the marmots has not been carefully studied but they

seem to live in colonies, all using a number of dens distributed as much

as 200 yards or more apart. I have seen several adults in a colony and

watched them move from one den to another. In traveling between some of

the dens the marmots are highly vulnerable if surprised by one of their

enemies. The attractive black-eyed young require two or more years to

gain the dimensions and weight of their elders.

Two excellent places to find marmots along the highway are the jumbled

boulders on the east end of the Savage River bridge and in Polychrome

Pass, especially on a gray, lichen-covered rock below the road and the

rocky ridge across the ravine from it. If not active, the marmots may

generally be seen flattened out on a rock, basking in the sunshine.

Some of the marmots in these places and also in remote areas are quite

tame. I walked practically alongside one big marmot as it fed in a patch

of mertensia. It gobbled up dozens of the big leaves and chewed them

down lustily and noisily, scarcely regarding my presence. Accustomed to

harmless mountain sheep and caribou, they sometimes apparently place

humans in the same category.

Arctic Ground Squirrel

_Citellus parryi ablusus_

[Illustration: Arctic ground squirrel at alert.]

The most neighborly animals in the park are the ground squirrels. They

quickly become tame at cabins and campgrounds and eagerly stuff their

cheek pouches with hotcakes until their gulps become ludicrous with

excessive efforts to make room for one more mouthful. Leave a cabin door

ajar and the bread supply is soon being appropriated.

Ground squirrels are always standing erect shouting worried warnings of

danger. Much of the time the cries seem to be only an outlet for

accumulated nervousness. But one learns to differentiate these cries

from those delivered in dead earnest. When extreme anxiety is

unmistakable, it pays to become alert. Their cries have often served to

call my attention to passing grizzlies, wolves, foxes, lynx and

low-flying eagles. And the whole wildlife community similarly benefits.

The message is relayed in all directions by ground squirrels in a sort

of chain reaction, but emphasis in delivery gradually decreases until

the message is lost. The cheery calls and sharp warnings of the ground

squirrels are for many of us, closely associated with the general flavor

and enchantment of the north country.

The winter months are spent hibernating in a burrow, curled up in a

grass nest. A few squirrels remain active until the middle of October or

even later. In the spring some come forth in April. Where deep

snowfields cover the dens and it seems unlikely that much temperature

change could penetrate to the squirrels, they nevertheless awaken as

though provided with alarm clocks and tunnel to the surface. Their muddy

tracks radiate from each den over the snow as the squirrels seek exposed

forage.

General observations indicate that the female has only one litter each

breeding season. The young do not reach adult size by the first autumn.

Year after year, the ground squirrel population in the park is high. Yet

no indication of cyclic behavior has been observed. Possibly their many

enemies prevent them from becoming superabundant and, therefore, subject

to epidemic disease.

Ground squirrels are an important factor in the park ecology. They

furnish about 90 percent of the golden eagle’s diet, and in some

localities they are the chief food of the gyrfalcon. The wolf at times

feeds extensively on them, and they contribute heavily, sometimes 50

percent, to the fox diet. The information available indicates that the

wolverine often captures them, and with the disappearance of the

rabbits, the lynx deigns to hunt them for a season. For the grizzly they

furnish his most dependable taste of meat. The bears spend many hours

excavating for ground squirrels.

Red Squirrel

_Tamiasciurus hudsonicus preblei_

The noisy red squirrel, with his churring, chattering, and

“sic-sic-ing,” lends a touch of the familiar to the northern woods. He

has followed the spruces along the rivers to timberline, and I saw one a

half-mile beyond timber, living perhaps temporarily, among the pikas in

tumbled rocks. They are generally plentiful, but in 1956 I found them

extremely scarce. A catastrophic die-off had apparently occurred in the

park, and that year the squirrels were also reported scarce in other

parts of Alaska.

These northern squirrels have a spruce cone economy. Even before the

middle of August they are frantically harvesting spruce cones (chiefly

white spruce in the park). One afternoon a squirrel worked steadily in a

group of spruces for almost 3 hours, cutting cones and giving them a

flip with his mouth or paws. Hundreds were scattered about under the

trees, and still they continued to rain and strike the ground with dull

thuds. Occasionally the squirrel seemed to get his wires crossed and,

instead of dropping a cone, would run all the way down the trunk with

it.

Sometimes twigs bearing a cluster of cones are nipped off. In two or

three sizeable caches all the cones were in clusters still attached to

twigs. Perhaps this rather efficient method of handling cones is at

times accentuated by certain individuals.

[Illustration: Red squirrel.]

In September I have seen many caches scattered about on the forest floor

as though piled hurriedly as a temporary expedient. One heap measured 5

feet long, 3 feet wide and about 7 inches deep. Possibly these heaps

were later stored more carefully in secluded spots with the tips of the

cones pointed downward. After the cones are stored, the squirrels

continue to give them solicitous care. One spring when melting snow

exposed a cache of cones, they were re-cached in various places, but

each cone was first bitten into, and if spoiled was discarded. About the

same time another cache of cones in a burrow was also removed and stored

elsewhere.

Another food item that is stored in quantity is the mushroom. Many are

placed on spruce branches where, if they do get wet, they will soon dry

out and remain edible, and I once found great quantities stored in a

cabin.

Aside from the cached foods, the red squirrels feed extensively, at

least through the winter and spring, on the buds of spruce twigs. Often

you may find many twigs on the ground with the tiny buds neatly removed.

In Wyoming, I have found squirrels in summer living for days on the

larvae in cottonwood galls, and I suspect such food may be eaten in

Alaska too, where galls are found.

[Illustration: Northern flying squirrel.]

Each squirrel commonly has two or more nests built of grasses, shredded

bark, ptarmigan feathers, and hair of rabbits, moose or whatever is

available. The squirrel piles this material on a branch until it is 2 or

3 feet high. One squirrel that I watched building a nest pushed himself

into the middle of the heap. Soon the whole nest shook vigorously at

intervals. Apparently he was forming a chamber.

The chatter of red squirrels, their piles of middens and their busy

harvesting activities, add cheer and life to the northern woods.

Northern Flying Squirrel

_Glaucomys sabrinus yukonensis_

When the gesticulating red squirrel has finished his daylight bustling

and retires to his nest, the flying squirrel comes forth to take over

the night, but in a gentle and quiet manner. Like the night-flying owl,

its coat is soft and its flight silent.

The furred “wing” membranes on each side of the body are attached to the

full length of the fore and hind legs and are supported and extended in

part by a cartilaginous process growing out from the wrist. Thus when

the legs are extended laterally, the squirrel becomes a glider with the

most delicate and reliable controls. His sailing carries him from the

top of one tree to the base of another where he checks his speed by an

upward swing and alights with a soft thud. Sharp claws and squirrel

agility give him the climbing ability to get quickly up a tree. Where

trees are widely spaced as they are in some stands of large cottonwoods,

he may in winter make a five-point landing in the snow, his broad

thickly-furred tail serving as rudder and gliding surface, and to a less

extent as a landing ski. I have seen tracks showing a touch and a raise

before the final landing with legs drawn under; then follow long jumps

over the snow to the nearest tree. The nest is usually built in a tree

cavity.

Perhaps the height of night esthetics is lying in a sleeping bag under

the open sky, the stars and moon lighting up the spaces between the

trees, and watching a family of flying squirrels gliding overhead in

their night play, their shadowy forms silhouetted against the moonlit

sky.

Porcupine

_Erethizon dorsatum myops_

The porcupine has been accused of being slow-witted, but we must admit

that he has not done badly for he is able to lead an unhurried life in

the country. His quill protection has, no doubt, decreased his need for

mental activity, and his eyesight does seem deficient. But his hearing

is quite keen, and judging by his nose activity it appears that his

sense of smell is on the acute side. His mental and physical attributes

are all based on the quill.

The upper surface of the porcupine, except for the vulnerable face, is

covered with several hundred ivory colored quills, touched with black or

brown, and reaching a length up to at least 2½ inches. They are

needle-sharp and just back from the tip are numerous minute barbs. When

the quill enters the flesh of an enemy, any muscular movement causes the

quill to move forward until it emerges on the opposite side or becomes

lodged against the bone or under the hide.

When the porcupine senses danger he raises the quills on his back and

has his muscular spine-studded tail in readiness to flip upward. He

tries to keep his rear toward the enemy and to push his head into

protective brush. The quills are loosely attached to the skin so pull

out readily when they stick into anything. The underside of the body, in

addition to the face, lacks quills but because of the short legs, the

belly region is close to the ground and not vulnerable unless the

porcupine is flipped over on his back. I knew a sled dog that sometimes

killed porcupines by weaving and maneuvering until he had an opportunity

to grasp the vulnerable nose and thus avoid the quills. Wolves, coyotes

and wolverines feed on porcupines; possibly they use a similar technique

in overcoming the quill armor.

In winter the porcupine feeds extensively on the inner bark and the

needles of conifers. The patches where the bark has been removed are a

common sight in porcupine woods. The spruces, in the last stand of

timber on the east side of the Toklat River along the road, were nearly

all killed by girdling, many of them back in the 1920’s when the

porcupine population was extremely high. This scraggly woods is a

favorite nesting area for pigeon hawks, sparrow hawks, magpies, and

shrikes so that porcupine activity that seemed generally harmful has

been highly beneficial to these species. Many porcupines spend the

winter in a willow patch beyond the spruce and subsist on willow. For

shelter in winter a windfall, hollow tree, or an old fox or wolf den may

be used. Several may take residence under a cabin.

In spring I have watched porcupines climbing clumsily in tall willow

brush feeding on the swollen buds. Swaying on a limb he reaches for a

slender branch, pulls it to him and passes the length of it past his

nose to discover the buds which he nips off. If the branch is

obstreperous and cannot readily be handled in this manner, he severs it

with his rodent incisors and then removes the buds as his paws

manipulate the twig past his jaws. The new shoots of fireweed and other

herbs are avidly sought in early summer. Willow leaves are included in

the varied summer diet.

The breeding season is in the fall and the young are born about 7 months

later. The usual single young one weighs about a pound, almost as much

as a new born grizzly. The eyes are open, the short spines are evident,

and protective reactions are soon functioning.

Their voice development is quite obvious when one or more porcupines

resides under a cabin. The night moanings, squeaks of irritability,

cluckings, and caressing sounds are enough to keep even the exhausted

hiker awake.

[Illustration: Porcupine.]

[Illustration: Beaver.]

Beaver

_Castor canadensis_

Beavers may be found at Horseshoe Lake, Riley Creek, various ponds near

the Nenana River, and in ponds and creeks along the road in the Wonder

Lake region. They are out chiefly at night, but many families emerge for

pond activity by 2 or 3 o’clock in the afternoon.

Beavers are large rodents, scaling 60 pounds or more. Their weight does

not make them good hikers but it is no handicap in water where they

paddle their way about as though they were skiffs. And when they sit up

to gnaw down an aspen or cottonwood, a favorite pastime, a good solid

fulcrum might be a comfortable advantage. The broad, flat, scaly tail

serves as a prop when sitting erect, as a rudder when swimming, and for

sounding an alarm (by slapping water) when an enemy is discovered.

The front feet are equipped with five strong toes which serve well as

hands for holding twigs as the animal feeds on bark. The claws function

well in all digging operations, and the arms suffice for holding gobs of

mud against the chest as he pushes the load onto the dam or house.

Occasionally, he carries mud in his arms as he walks up the house roof

on hind legs.

The hind feet are large and webbed for swimming. Even the nails on the

toes are flattened in keeping with the swimming needs. The nail of the

second hind claw is double and the nail of the first toe fits down on a

hard pad and is movable like a duck’s bill. These specialized claws are

used for combing the fur and possibly for removing some of the large

beetles that live in the fur. The prominent incisors, used for gnawing,

grow continuously, as they do in all rodents, in order to compensate for

wear. This is an especially fortunate adaptation for the beaver, who

does so much gnawing. Otherwise his teeth would soon be worn to the

gums. If an incisor for any reason is thrown out of line, so it has no

surface to bite against and wear, it will become excessively elongated

as it grows in a curve.

A flourishing beaver colony apparently consists of the parents, the

young of the year, and the previous year’s offspring. It is for this

reason that we often discover three sizes of beavers in a pond. Much of

beaver activity involves cooperative projects where there is latitude

for any amount of individual initiative. The dam or dams must be built,

or raised, or kept in repair. The house, located either out in the pond,

or partially or wholly on the shore, may require additional sticks, and

toward autumn is plastered on the outside with wet mud as a sort of

annual renovation. This “stucco” winterizes the lodge. Occasionally, it

is decided that a new house is needed and that gives young and old

plenty to do. Some beavers along Riley Creek live in bank burrows and

build no dams or houses.

[Illustration: The author inspecting a beaver house at low water.]

The most effective dam that has come to my attention was built at the

outlet of Wonder Lake in 1960; it raised the water level of the lake

over 2 feet. For many days the outlet stream was dry. The water held

back in the lake amounted to well over 100 million cubic feet or over 7

billion pounds of water.

The water depth beside the lodge must be deepened if too shallow, so

that the underwater entrance to the lodge is deep enough to keep from

freezing over, and imprisoning the occupants. Also a certain depth of

water is needed beside the lodge in which to store the brush pile that

is the winter food supply. Another activity practised extensively by

some colonies is the building of canals, some of which may have great

length. The mud from the digging is deposited along the canal forming a

raised border. These waterways are useful for general travel to food

areas and for transporting branches and poles.

The favorite foods of the beaver include willow, aspen, cottonwood, and

alder. Willow brush re-sprouts readily and grows rapidly, therefore

maintains itself better than some of the other foods. Also it flourishes

in the wet habitat created by the beaver ponds.

Where beavers create ponds with their dams, they produce a habitat for

fish, ducks, muskrats, shore birds, moose and many other forms of water

and shore life. In Wyoming, I have observed the dead trees, killed by

flooding, used by herons for nesting, and one of the heron nests was

later used by a pair of geese.

The rich, warm coat of the beaver has long been worn by both humans and

beavers, but the beaver wears it best.

Muskrat

_Ondatra zibethicus spatulatus_

In some parts of Alaska where extensive favorable pond habitat prevails,

muskrats are abundant and their sedge lodges are a part of the scenery.

In the park there are a few muskrats in Horseshoe Lake and other ponds

and creeks near the eastern border, and also in the Wonder Lake area.

These usually live in bank burrows with submerged entrances. It is not

uncommon to find a muskrat living in an occupied beaver house,

apparently utilizing an unoccupied cranny. They ply back and forth

across the pond, just as the beavers do, and submerge with a mouthful of

sedge which they are taking to the young. At Wonder Lake, I have seen

muskrats swimming under the little bridge across the stream inlet,

carrying sedges to young that were kept in a burrow in a nearby bank of

the lake.

Because muskrats are associated with beavers they are sometimes mistaken

for young beavers. The longer scaly tail, that is flattened vertically

rather than horizontally, serves as a certain identification. The

muskrat is also much quicker in its actions, and is smaller than any

beaver old enough to be abroad.

The muskrats’ chief food consists of green vegetation (various

waterplants and sedges) and clams when available; it has even been

reported catching small fish in some regions. Some of the deeper

waterplants it secures by diving, and in the spring I have watched them

climb onto the ice to eat them. A muskrat looks very tiny sitting on the

ice beside a big beaver.

Muskrat have their winged and fourfooted enemies. Mink, living in the

same environment, prey on them, but not indiscriminately. Other

carnivores such as the fox, coyote, and wolf might encounter one on

land, but chiefly by accident.

Shrews

_Sorex sp. and Microsorex sp._

Shrews may be identified by their long, pointed, mobile nose, extremely

minute eyes, short velvety fur and blackish-tipped teeth. They are the

smallest mammals in the world, some kinds weighing less than 3 grams. It

would require over 100 of these to weigh one pound. Because of the

shrew’s small size and long nose, Alaskans frequently refer to them as

long-nosed mice.

Thousands of shrews (four species) are vigorously active in the park but

are rarely seen. Occasionally, one may be discovered crossing an open

area, like a mechanical toy, or one may flash from cover and as quickly

disappear. They share with the voles and lemmings the shade and darkness

of the hidden runways beneath the moss and grassy cover. Here they are

active predators, darting about in their search for prey. With nervous

activity they examine their microhabitat in search of insects and other

invertebrates. Spiders flee in haste when the presence of a shrew is

sensed. Their hunting technique appears to consist of random movements

until they collide with their victim. They no doubt depend chiefly upon

the sense of smell in recognizing their prey.

Shrews eat often and a great deal. In captivity, a shrew weighing 3.6

grams ate over three times its weight of food daily. Any kind of meat

attracts shrews, as many Alaskans have learned when discovering their

meat caches invaded by them. The energetic activity of shrews suggests

the need for rapid metabolism and plentiful supply of body fuel.

Although shrews are active throughout the winter, they nevertheless

appear to be delicately attuned to their environment. They seem to be

especially susceptible to chilling, perhaps because of their tiny body

and short fur. Winter temperatures in the north are severe, but ground

temperatures under the snow blanket are rather moderate. Shrews perhaps

require only a warm nest—their intense activity keeping them warm when

foraging.

Shrews are not rated high gastronomically by many mammals. This is

apparently due to the hip glands which have a strong, pungent odor. But

their lack of palatability does not give them much protection. If, for

instance, a fox locates a faint sound in the grass, he pounces and

learns later what he has caught. If the prey is a shrew, it may be left

where killed by the fox, carried a short way and dropped, or during

denning time even brought home to the den before discarded. I have often

found shrew carcasses lying uneaten about fox dens. Birds of prey feed

more extensively on them possibly because of their poorly developed

sense of smell, and sense of taste. Grayling, and also trout, have been

found with one or more shrews in their stomachs. At Moose Creek, several

grayling were taken which had eaten shrews, one having eaten three of

them. This indicates that the species captured, readily enter the water.

(One species, the water shrew, not found in the park, is specialized for

aquatic life).

[Illustration: Denali (Mount McKinley) in early winter.]

The shrew population is apparently cyclic for there are years when they

are very abundant, followed by years of extreme scarcity.

Four kinds of shrews are in the park. They differ from one another in

several respects, but may be fairly well identified by tail length

alone. The masked shrew (_Sorex cinereus_) has a tail averaging about 39

millimeters long; the tail of the vagrant shrew (_Sorex obscurus_)

averages about 48 mm.; and that of the rare pygmy shrew (_Microsorex

hoyi eximius_), 31 mm. The average length of tail of the Arctic shrew

(_Sorex arcticus tundrensis_) is about 36 mm., overlapping slightly in

this measurement that of the masked shrew, but the rich chocolate color

of the Arctic shrew will identify it.

Bat

_Vespertilioninae_

A bat was reported in flight at Wonder Lake in 1959 and again in 1960.

Since no specimen has been examined there is no definite identification,

but judging from the geographical distribution of bats it seems probable

that those seen in the park belong to the genus _Myotis_. Three or four

species of this genus are known to occur in southeastern Alaska. The

little brown bat (_Myotis lucifugus alascensis_) has been taken at

Illiamna Lake at the base of the Alaska Peninsula so it seems likely

that this is the bat seen at Wonder Lake.

The Mouse World

_Microtinae_

Are there any trails in the park? Yes, thousands of miles, but most of

them are under a canopy of grass and sphagnum moss and are only 1 or 2

inches wide, so of course they are not of much use to you. And even if

we could nibble on Alice’s mushroom and grow, in reverse, small enough

to use them, we would hardly dare, at least a lady wouldn’t, for she

would soon meet a mouse, inasmuch as these trails have been constructed

by, and belong to, mice. And I might add that the fierce little shrews

use them too. Where the trails cross green, mossy carpets and enter tiny

exquisite nooks I imagine one might also meet a few northern fairies.

Seven kinds of mice (voles and lemmings) are known to live in the park.

Some of these are quite outstanding for one thing or another, and

possibly all of them are, if we only knew more about them. However, we

do know that they are all important.

* * * * * * * *

I am best acquainted with the haymouse, or singing vole (_Microtus

miurus oreas_) because some of my field observations led me to him. Some

years ago I kept finding many caches of dried vegetation, some caches

large enough to fill a bushel basket. This hay was always kept either

off the ground or under cover. It was placed at the base of willows in

the basket formed by the many stems, or on a surface spruce root, in a

rock niche, or under a log. Pikas are known to make hay, but no such

activity has been reported for mice. Pikas were not involved for they

live in the talus rock, and these caches were mostly far from pika

habitat. After considerable effort, I learned that a yellowish-brown

field mouse was the interesting haymaker. The hay is put up for winter

use. The sign showed that sometimes a snowshoe hare found a cache and

helped himself.

In addition to hay, this mouse also stores roots in underground cellars

that he excavates, and the roots are not thrown in helter-skelter, at

least not in most of the caches I examined. The black, round nutlike

tubers of the horsetail were in one pile, coltsfoot underground stems in

another, and carrotlike roots of a pedicularis in still another. An

interesting feature was the structure of some of the tunnels which were

built in the form of a pearl necklace. Tiny passages, just large enough

for the body of the mouse to squeeze through, joined the cavities or, so

to speak, the “pearls.” In addition to all of these accomplishments,

these mice do much miniature warbling, enough so they have been called

singing voles.

[Illustration: Haymouse (singing vole)]

The tail is short, measuring slightly over 1 inch; the body length

averages about 5 inches. It is found from moist lowland habitats to

ridge tops.

* * * * * * * *

The large, plump, and richly-colored brown lemming (_Lemmus

trimucronatus alascensis_) is notorious for his overpopulation problem.

On some occasions they migrate in hordes, even into the ocean in some

parts of their circumpolar home. The lemming is cyclic in the park, but

usually only to about the same degree as the other mice. However, in the

low part of the cycle, they may become extremely scarce, more so than do

the voles. The brown lemming does not turn white in winter as does its

relative, the collared lemming (over most of its range). The body is

about 5½ inches long and the tail is just under 1 inch. The thumb claw

consists of a three-pronged flat nail. A large lemming weighs about

one-quarter pound. They are widely distributed in both open tundra and

woods where the habitat is not too dry.

[Illustration: Brown Lemming.]

* * * * * * * *

The northern bog lemming (_Synaptomys borealis dalli_) is usually not

thought of as a true lemming, but it does belong to the lemming tribe.

It has a short tail, less than 1 inch long; the body length is about 4

inches; the upper incisors have a vertical groove near the outer edge;

and the males have a white spot on each side marking the location of hip

glands. The thumb claw is a broad nail, in this respect resembling the

brown lemming. The distribution of this mouse is spotty. It was taken in

the Wonder Lake area in a wet grass and sedge habitat just inside a

spruce woods.

* * * * * * * *

The chestnut-cheeked vole (_Microtus xanthognathus_), the largest mouse

in the park, has a body length of 6 or 7 inches, tail length of about 2

inches, and weighs up to about 6 ounces. These mice live in isolated

colonies but where found may be abundant. Not recorded in the park since

1907 when it was abundant along the Toklat River.

* * * * * * * *

The tundra vole (_Microtus oeconomus macfarlani_) is a large vole widely

distributed, and is especially fond of dense grass or sedge habitats.

Its body length is 5 to 5½ inches, and tail length a little less than 2

inches. Its brownish-gray color is similar to the common meadow mouse.

* * * * * * * *

The meadow vole (_Microtus pennsylvanicus tananaensis_) is common in

interior Alaska, so far as known, but is rare in the park. With more

investigation, it may be found plentiful in places along the north

boundary. This is a common vole over much of Canada and the Rocky

Mountain, central and eastern states. It prefers moist habitats. The

body length is about 5 inches, tail about 2 inches, and the color is

dark brown.

* * * * * * * *

The northern red-backed mouse (_Clethrionomys rutilus dawsonii_) lives

in both the open tundra and the woods. Generally, it has a reddish back,

but in a dark color phase, the back is blackish. These mice are fond of

berries, their teeth being stained blue during the blueberry season.

They also feed on seeds, stems, and leaves.

[Illustration: Meadow vole.]

[Illustration: Red-backed mouse.]

[Illustration: Red-backed mouse.]

The several species of mice vary in abundance from year to year. In

places where some of them have been studied, a well-defined 3 or 4 year

cycle has been noted. The mouse populations have a tremendous influence

on our wildlife economy. Foxes, martens, weasels, owls, hawks and a host

of others feed extensively on this fauna and react to its abundance.

When the lemming increase in the north, the snowy owls (and others)

increase, and when the lemming become scarce, these owls come south in

search of food and we have the snowy owl invasions, especially in

north-central and eastern states. In 1955, when mice were abundant, the

hawk owls in the park reached a high point, but again became scarce when

the mouse population dropped.