A beautiful but chilly Saturday morning found us high on a hilltop scanning several valleys below before sunrise. Unfortunately, even from our high vantage point there were no elk to be seen once the morning was light enough to illuminate animal that was perhaps lingering over the grass. We took out the maps and quietly formulated a plan to drive further west to a patch of promising timber. Our first sign that something was amiss was a backpack left by an outcropping of rocks. We were supposed to be the only hunters on this particular section of a ranch, and it looked like we weren’t. It wasn’t hard to spot the trespassers since they had decided to stay out of the tress and instead traverse a meadow. I caught up with them and asked them their business, their names, and then asked them to leave. I had a difficult time believing, that with a backpack full of maps and a GPS unit, that they had no idea they were on private property.
My husband, father in law and I decided to split up and beat the timber since it was so hot, and the elk were likely to be up high and hiding in the trees. I was going through a boggy grove of aspens when I caught movement – something was right in front of me, and something else took off to the right. I dropped to one knee and raised up my rifle. I didn’t see anything at first, but when I lowered my scope just a tad I could see a wolf standing on a slight ridge about 25 yards ahead of me. The wolf was watching me, and then would look up the line of trees, possibly watching his pack member. He was huge – I was reminded of an Akbash just in size alone. He was silvery white, and had obviously been eating well, as he had no tuck up and his coat made me want to run my fingers through it. I had never seen a tail that plush, that fluffy – he would have put any fluffy tailed show dog to shame. I was in awe.
I have to say that before I could become awestruck and admire the animal, I had to figure out what it was. Keep in mind that in my head, and in the fish and game’s best fantasies, wolves never leave Yellowstone – they simply do not come to the area around Medicine Bow National Forest. So I kept looking at it, studying the creature. It was too big and not the right color to be a coyote. I had never seen a coyote stop and stare and take interest in what I was doing; a ‘yotes modus operandi is to head for the hills and never look back. A thought ran though my head that perhaps this was some sort of guardian dog, but there was no livestock for miles and the ranch did not employ guardian dogs to protect their cattle. It was definitely a Canis lupus. I don’t know how long we watched each other before he finally disappeared, but when he did, I realized that I had been holding my breath. A long exhale and another deep breath in, and I was back on my way.
My husband, father in law and I decided to split up and beat the timber since it was so hot, and the elk were likely to be up high and hiding in the trees. I was going through a boggy grove of aspens when I caught movement – something was right in front of me, and something else took off to the right. I dropped to one knee and raised up my rifle. I didn’t see anything at first, but when I lowered my scope just a tad I could see a wolf standing on a slight ridge about 25 yards ahead of me. The wolf was watching me, and then would look up the line of trees, possibly watching his pack member. He was huge – I was reminded of an Akbash just in size alone. He was silvery white, and had obviously been eating well, as he had no tuck up and his coat made me want to run my fingers through it. I had never seen a tail that plush, that fluffy – he would have put any fluffy tailed show dog to shame. I was in awe.
I have to say that before I could become awestruck and admire the animal, I had to figure out what it was. Keep in mind that in my head, and in the fish and game’s best fantasies, wolves never leave Yellowstone – they simply do not come to the area around Medicine Bow National Forest. So I kept looking at it, studying the creature. It was too big and not the right color to be a coyote. I had never seen a coyote stop and stare and take interest in what I was doing; a ‘yotes modus operandi is to head for the hills and never look back. A thought ran though my head that perhaps this was some sort of guardian dog, but there was no livestock for miles and the ranch did not employ guardian dogs to protect their cattle. It was definitely a Canis lupus. I don’t know how long we watched each other before he finally disappeared, but when he did, I realized that I had been holding my breath. A long exhale and another deep breath in, and I was back on my way.
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