I soon bumped into a friend who had a friend in Preston who trained and occasionally raced his team of 14 Alaskan Huskies.
This musher graciously offered to give me a ride on one of his training runs. I showed up all smiles as he was harnessing his team. The dogs were excited to go and actually howling with happiness. The musher asked if I wanted to get in – or ride up the trail a bit on a snowmobile with his teenage son to a more level spot. In a rare moment of sanity, I opted for the snowmobile.
The machine had just pulled out of the yard when I heard his son say, “Oh, No!”
I looked back in time to see the sled tip over, sending the musher sliding across the driveway and under my car parked at the end of it. I jumped off the snowmobile as the dogs shot past us with the empty sled. The dogs were gaining on a truck up ahead, then shot past it with the snowmobile in hot pursuit.
I was left standing in a snowbank wondering if I’d wandered into a James Bond movie.
My first encounter with sled dogs had gone a lot smoother. I was visiting Denali National Park in Alaska and the rangers were introducing us to one of the dog teams that they still use to patrol the park.
But the most famous sled dogs are the freight teams that carried anti-toxin from Anchorage to Nome during an outbreak of Diphtheria in 1925. The dog teams ran a thousand miles and are credited with saving hundreds of lives.
For the last 50 years, modern mushers have retraced this journey in the ultimate sled dog race, the Ididarod. The best account I’ve read about the world of training sled dogs and running the Ididarod is Gary Paulsen’s book Winterdance. Just before going on a training ride, he discovered, “the gangline was trembling, quivering like a string on a guitar. It fairly hummed and I felt there was great power there. The trees in the yard went by in a mad blur and we left the yard at warp speed.”
Paulsen also lets us in on the deep relationship mushers form with their dogs: “As they understand you will give them meat when they run, and love when they run, and your soul when they run – as they learn to feel that, understand that, know that – they are no longer sled dogs – they become distance dogs, dogs that cannot, will not be stopped.” Paulson ran the Iditarod in 1983. It was a wild ride that took 17 days. But he finished.
Meanwhile, back in Preston, our teenage hero had caught up with the runaway team, made a flying leap from the snowmobile onto the empty sled, and somehow managed to stop the team. Pretty soon the musher and I caught up.
“Do you still want to get in?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said.
And we were off. The dogs settled into a steady trot. From then on it was all Sun and Snow and the sheer Joy of sliding quietly through the magnificent winter scenery.
Underpass and Jump Ramp Near Santaquin WMA Courtesy & Copyright Lyle Bingham, Photographer
Rural Road Leading to Santaquin Wildlife Management Area Courtesy & Copyright Lyle Bingham, PhotographerDeer and other wildlife have been migrating across our state much longer than humans. When people drove horse-drawn wagons and slower vehicles, wildlife could easily pass without a problem. However, with the introduction of fenced highways and their increased speed and traffic, problems quickly arose. In this case, the problem is mostly with mule deer, because they comprise 90% of the animals migrating in Utah. Robert Frost wrote that “Good fences make good neighbors.” But neighbors need to cooperate to maintain a fence, and even with fences in place, what if the neighbors are animals? The problem is how to keep migrating deer from jumping fences and causing accidents.
Animal/vehicle encounters cause over 5,000 animal deaths in Utah each year. Beyond the loss of life, it is also an economic problem, not only for wildlife management but also for vehicle owners. Some estimate the deer are worth more than $2,500 each. Joshua Coursey wrote in the Deseret News, that the “estimated cost of collisions with mule deer in Utah reached close to $50 million in 2021.” That’s why the Utah Department of Transportation (UDOT) and the Division of Wildlife Resources (DWR) have worked for decades to reduce wildlife/vehicle encounters. As noted, fencing alone does not work; consequently, highway managers have had to find ways to get trapped deer across and away from fenced roads.
When USU researchers studied escape mechanisms in Sardine canyon, they found earthen escape mounds were superior to one-way, metal gates. Climbing a hill is more natural to deer than pushing through a metal gate. These mounds enable a one-way jump to safety. However, escape alone does not solve the driving force of migration.
A more effective way to handle migrating animals is to guide them above or below the road. UDOT explains: “Studies have shown there is a 90% reduction in wildlife/vehicle collisions when there is a crossing structure and fence in the area.” Since 1975, when UDOT built its first wildlife overpass near Beaver, Utah, deer, moose and elk, along with bear and mountain lions have begun to use wildlife underpasses and overpasses. More recently, a larger overpass was built in Parley’s Canyon on I-80. Videos show a variety of animals who successfully traverse that overpass.
But escape ramps and overpasses aren’t the only tools available. Passage is also possible using creek beds or culverts crossing under roads. Tall fences are effective in guiding animals toward structures and preventing roadway access. Then, to encourage faster adoption, contractors have found they can walk a herd of cattle through the structure, overpowering human scents
When on I-15, I-80, I-70, or in our canyons, watch for overpasses, underpasses, one-way gates and exit ramps. They demonstrate a few ways the DWR and UDOT are working together to preserve human and animal lives.
This is Lyle Bingham, and I’m Wild About Utah and our 15 years on Utah Public Radio.
Buford, Daniel, Cramer, Patricia, and Simpson, Nova, Integrating Wildlife Connectivity and Safety Concerns into Transportation Planning Processes, Federal Highway Administration, US Department of Transportation, Winter 2023, https://highways.dot.gov/public-roads/winter-2023/04
“A dynamic part of a National Cooperative Highway Research Program sponsored research project titled; ‘Evaluation of the Use and Effectiveness of Wildlife Crossings.'”, https://www.wildlifeandroads.org/
DWR: “It’s the video seen around the world! This compilation of footage shows various animals using the wildlife crossing constructed in 2018 over Interstate 80 near Parleys Summit. What’s especially notable with this crossing is how many animals are already using it; usually it takes several years for wildlife crossings to become widely used.
This video went viral near the end of 2020, and was celebrated as great progress in the problem of wildlife-vehicle collisions. Special thanks to the Utah Division of Wildlife Resources, Utah Department of Transportation and Summit County for the footage.” https://wildlifemigration.utah.gov/stories/parleys-summit-wildlife-crossing/
UDOT: Baker Canyon Wildlife Crossing Installation
DWR: “Utah’s highways are vital to the health of the state. They can present a significant barrier for wildlife migration. In order to prevent automobile/wildlife collisions and to increase habitat availability for animals, Wildlife biologists and the Utah Department of Transportation have designed and installed several overpasses and underpasses to allow wild animals to safely cross the highway.”
Spawn Creek Beaver Dam and Pond Courtesy and Copyright Bethany Neilson, Photographer
North American beaver (Castor canadensis) Courtesy US FWS, Larry Palmer, Photographer
Spawn Creek Beaver Dams Courtesy & Copyright Joe Wheaton, Photographer
Installing Beaver Dam Analogues Post Fire Rehabilitation Rio Cabolla, Santa Fe National Forest, Courtesy USDA Forest Service
Completed Beaver Dam Analogues, Rio Cabolla, Santa Fe National Forest, Courtesy USDA Forest ServiceFinding a beaver dam gives me a sense of discovery and connects me to the past. I fondly remember my parents pointing out dams when we drove up Logan canyon. Instinctively, we’d scan, hoping to see the animals that built and maintained those structures. When we talked about beaver dams, the conversation often turned to trappers who would rendezvous and re-supply in the Bear Lake and Cache valleys. We lived where history had happened, and I was eager to know more.
Years later, inspired by a history class, I read Dale Morgan’s Jedediah Smith and the Opening of the West. Morgan followed the travels of Smith and his fellow trappers who answered William Ashley’s 1822 ad in the Missouri Gazette requesting “ONE HUNDRED MEN, to ascend the river Missouri to its source, there to be employed for one, two, or three years….”
Ashley’s troop competed with the Hudson’s Bay Company, the American Fur Company and several native indigenous tribes, all trapping beaver. The story sounds familiar: beaver pelts, and later bird feathers, were used to create hats, and the movement to harvest them led to a significant decline in numbers. For the birds, this decline led to building refuges and other conservation efforts. But the plight of the beaver continued downhill as exploration and discovery encouraged an influx of settlers. For the next century, the remaining beaver were regarded by those settlers as invasive land-grabbers, in competition with efforts to direct water, mine and irrigate.
However, today beavers are gaining more respect as we better understand the benefits of their skills in supporting wildlife and wetland conservation. Researchers at Utah State University, including Joe Wheaton and Nick Bouwes of the Department of Watershed Sciences, are studying habitat improvement after beaver introduction as a cost-effective way to combat drought and fire.
They have repeatedly demonstrated, over the past few years, that beaver families can be introduced and thrive behind fabricated beaver dam analogues(BDAs). After release into the resulting ponds, the beavers take over maintenance and produce their own dams. Over time, these dams and their rodent engineers improve stream flows, raise water tables, and cool water temperatures.
In essence, active beaver dams create Mesic habitats where the land maintains a well-balanced supply of moisture throughout the growing season. These dams slow spring run-off as they retain water in ponds and the surrounding soil, thereby, securing water for fish, trees, birds and wildlife. The best part is that the beavers do the maintenance.
When wildfires occur, beaver oases preserve wildlife and habitat. However, if beaver and their habitats don’t exist in an area before a fire, they can still play a role. By retaining water with beaver dam analogs, we can create wetlands conducive to beaver habitat. In Joe Wheaton’s words, “We can’t dump beaver into a watershed that has burnt to the ground and expect them to do the restoration of degraded streams on their own…. What we can do post-fire is accelerate recovery with low-tech structures that make it easier to more quickly get beaver into an area and accelerate recovery. We’d like to help them do that.” (Utah State Magazine, Winter 2019, p.12)
To learn more about how birds, beaver and water are key to the understanding and improvement of our environment, and to find ways to get involved, check out this story on this wildaboututah.org.
I’m Lyle Bingham for Bridgerland Audubon, and I’m Wild About Utah
Prettyman, Brett, Dolling (SLTRIB), Justin(UT DWR), Beavers in Utah, Creators of Habitat, The Salt Lake Tribune & Utah DWR, Oct 15, 2009 •
Utah’s population of beaver has recovered since the days when they were trapped by mountain men, but some people wonder if moving beaver to traditional habitats may help deal with drought.
Canada Elk Cervus canadensis Courtesy William(13222272) and Pixabay
Bull Elk in Profile Courtesy US FWS, Ryan Hagerty, Photographer
Jackson Elk Herd Courtesy US FWS, Lori Iverson, Photographer
Bull Elk and Herd at National Elk Refuge Courtesy US FWS, Kari Cieszkiewicz, PhotographerThe Rocky Mountain elk is Utah’s state mammal for good reason. No one can deny its majesty and uncanny intelligence while being hunted, and the spine tingling bugle released in fall mountain splendor.
My introductory encounter with Rocky Mountain elk came during my first deer hunt in Utah on the east side of Mt. Nebo. I was nearly trampled by a large bull and herd of cows that leaped over me as I cowered behind large boulders. What magnificent beings they were, dwarfing the whitetail deer I had grown up with in Michigan.
Since that time, I’ve led countless groups of students and others to view elk during the rut in Grand Teton National Park. On one occasion, we were sleeping under the stars on a warm fall evening, awakened by a minor earth quake as a herd ran through us, a wakeup call I’ll never forget!
A matriarchal society, the cow elk rules the herd other than during the fall rut. Bulls will often separate to avoid this embarrassing situation. If you’ve had the pleasure of holding a large set of elk antlers, you will appreciate the physiology that allows this amount of annual growth to produce such weapons and status symbols. Cows generally outlive the bulls by several years. Prime bulls exhaust themselves, during the rut, and face the harsh winter months in a depleted condition. Some won’t make it providing a feast for waiting predators and scavengers come spring.
Elk are a sacred animal for many Native Americans. “Elk Medicine is a powerful totem animal of stamina, strength, sensual passion, nobility, pride, respect, and survival. Elk are also known as Spirit Messengers. Their antlers connect to the medicine of lightening, and channel that energy to earth. With this medicine comes instant knowing and messages from Spirit with great clarity.” Animal Spirit Medicine Elk by Beverly Two Feathers
My spiritual encounter came on a full moon vernal evening on a ridge in Birch Canyon near Smithfield. It was unusually warm so decided to take a moonlit stroll. Once on the ridge, large, gray forms emerged. I soon found myself surrounded by an elk herd. I moved slowly for safety, and not to startle the animals. A euphoric moment. Another came last fall when I had a large group of USU international students with me. It was after dark at the base of Teewinot. I hushed their chatter. Soon after came the hauntingly beautiful sound sliding down the slope above, bugling of bull elk. They were transfixed as was I.
A favorite book is Wapiti Wilderness, coauthored by Olaus and wife Margaret Murie, capturing their lives in the Yellowstone and Teton wilderness tracking elk herds over many years, often with their young children. A revealing and enduring read I highly recommend.
This weekend I will be taking 24 international students to Hardware Ranch for a sleigh ride among the wintering pasturing elk. Here they are fed hay to replace their lower winter range, which has been replaced by human activity. Yet another spiritual experience!
This is Jack Greene for Bridgerland Audubon and I’m Wild About Utah and its elk.
