Of moose and man

The moose is cute; the foliage is wonderful.

The moose are cute; the foliage is wonderful.

With all the time I’ve spent tooling around the north woods, it’s embarrassing to admit that I’ve never seen a moose in the wild before this week. The closest I’ve come was finding moose tracks outside a cabin with Marilyn Fairman when we were painting in Piseco, NY.

The question isn't HOW Dall sheep get up there, the question is why they bother.

The question isn’t how Dall sheep get up there, the question is why.

I’m an assiduous scanner of the treeline, because I don’t want my first encounter with one to destroy my Prius. Seeing a dead moose on the roadside yesterday just reinforces that idea.

Moose killed on the road between Denali and Wasilla.

Moose dead on the road between Denali and Wasilla.

I’ve seen Dall sheep, grizzly bears and caribou in the Lower 48, but never in the numbers in which I’ve seen them here. I now understand: the point of Denali is to see and photograph wildlife. That doesn’t work too well when you’re carrying a tiny pocket camera so I’ll leave the animal photography to others. The alpine tundra, spangled in vivid fall colors, and the ribbons of meltwater moving down from the glaciers interested me more.

The bear went over the mountain, the bear went over the mountain...

The bear went over the mountain, the bear went over the mountain…

If Maine is a black bear, Alaska is a grizzly. Yes, it’s unfathomably beautiful, grand, and imposing. It is also aloof and dangerous.

Marmot working his patch.

Marmot working his patch.

Our tour bus was bathed in mud, there was mud on my camera lens and mud obscuring the windows, despite our efforts to clean them at each stop. At first I was annoyed that the National Park System makes you take these busses instead of driving your own vehicle. Then I saw the unimpeded drop-offs on every bend. Cars would be rolling off overlooks left and right as their drivers gawped at the animals.

This little red fox owned the road.

The little red fox owned the road.

There really is an ethos among park workers that animals have the right of way. A red fox ambled down the roadway and trucks and busses all stopped to let it pass.

When we finally reached Eielson Visitor Center the rain had let up enough for us to hike a few miles down to the river. We were most of the way there when we heard an ugly racket. Two hikers scampering uphill told us it was a sow calling to her two cubs.

A grizzly sow and her two cubs interrupted our hike.

A grizzly sow and her two cubs interrupted our hike.

Why do they call Mama Bear a sow? I suppose it’s because she’s as nasty as the porcine version when she’s got babies. “I don’t think I want to go anywhere near something that can make a noise like that,” my husband said, and I agreed.

No watercolor painting possible in this muck.

No watercolor painting possible in this muck.

By the time we returned to the top, Eielson was socked in with fog. No watercolor painting was possible in that mist. But I definitely would like to come back another year, as autumn stretches its hand over the landscape.

Carol Douglas

About Carol Douglas

Carol L. Douglas is a painter who lives, works and teaches in Rockport, ME. Her annual workshop will again be held on the Schoodic Peninsula in beautiful Acadia National Park, from August 6-11, 2017. Visit www.watch-me-paint.com/ for more information.