chasing the rut pt 5

Standing roughly 7 feet at the shoulder, moose are without a doubt the largest member of the deer family in the world. To behold a large bull moose can be almost overwhelming. Stop for a moment and consider what 7 feet at the shoulders means. Let a giant bull raise his head and suddenly we are dealing with nearly 12 feet to the top of his antlers – which themselves can spread out to nearly 6 feet in width.

Moose, more so than any other species for me, has become the icon of the far north. And they are by far my favorite species of deer to photograph outside of the rut.

I think that, like many, it’s the nostalgia they represent. The wild north. Snow. Wolves. Endless forests and muskegs and lakes. A mythical place untrammeled by man. Ironically, as I write this, I find myself camped out in the back of my Land Rover in just such a place 30 kilometers down a dirt road deep in the mountains of Alberta, Canada, where I was searching for moose all afternoon (unsuccessfully). Yes, this is a different camp spot from where I was writing about the elk. Last month (August), I woke up at the edge of the tundra in Alaska to a moose nosing around my camp. Denali could be seen in the far distance. Wolf tracks were pressed into the mud nearby. And frost, despite the month, covered all.

This is it in a nutshell for me. Moose are the embodiment of wilderness in my mind, at least my romanticized version of it any ways, that also contains things like birch bark canoes, a small cabin, and a woodstove.

Like elk, over the year’s moose have been the subject of much debate as to whether they are all one species here in North America, or various subspecies. In Wyoming and Montana, our moose are referred to as the Shiraz moose – the smallest of the race. On the opposite end of the spectrum is the so-called Alaska moose which offers up the absolute largest individuals in the world.

In my humble opinion, they are one species. Alaskan moose are so large because of the cold and the genetic potential that their diet allows them to live up to.

Moose are a relatively new species in North America. They are the last of the deer family to make it across from Asia and they are still largely learning how to fully adapt to the less than ideal diet south of Alaska. This is a species of cold weather and lush forests. In fact, even without their winter coat, moose begin to experience heat stress at 45 degrees in the summer. Add to this the low-quality nature of the food available in Wyoming and Montana, and a smaller moose begins to make a whole lot of sense.

Wyoming and Montana are blessed with a plethora of big mammals. Some are predators, of course. But most are herbivores. Let’s go down the list here for a moment because it does matter in terms of the size of moose in the area. There’s elk, whitetail deer, mule deer, pronghorn, bighorn sheep, mountain goats, and bison. Actually, it’s the ENTIRE list of species we are talking about here in regard to the rut. Of course, not all of them are eating the same things that moose are – namely bison and bighorn sheep – but otherwise everyone else is competing with moose for food, including the pronghorn.

This does not mean that there’s not enough food to go around. Instead, what it means is that the food itself has spent a very long time adapting to being eaten by all these different species. Plants adapt to such things in various ways. Some create poisons in the form of alkaloids. Others simply increase their fiber content to make themselves less nutritious and palatable. In Wyoming and Montana, we have both of these things going on.

Species such as pronghorn and elk have been around the West for a very long time – though elk are also an Old-World species that migrated over themselves. What this time on the landscape translates to is these animals’ ability to survive off a more varied and lower quality diet. Plants adapt in response to grazing / browsing by mammals. Mammals then adapt to the changes in the plants. And it goes on and on. But it does take time. And time is not something that moose have had in this environment.

Up north in Alaska, moose are competing with exactly what for food? Caribou to an extent up on the tundra. Not muskox. A small population of native Sitka deer maybe. But that’s it. And it’s only relatively recent, in geological terms, that much of Alaska could even be inhabited by these vegetarians.

You see, the whole Bering Land Bridge thing didn’t happen just once. Instead, it has occurred over and over again as the Earth cycled through glaciation and what we call interglacial periods. These interglacial periods were a time when temperatures warmed enough to allow for a corridor through the giant walls of ice for animals to move from Asia to North America and vice versa. It’s always been a delicate balance though. If temperatures warm too much, sea levels rise and no land bridge. Too cold, and the walls of ice closed in. One wave of animals would push across, and the ice would close the passage. Another 10,000 years would go by, the ice would open up again, and another wave of animals would come through.

Thus, for all intents and purposes, moose are still learning how to survive down south off the plants that have been learning how to survive all the other animals who have been eating them for 50 million years.

But whether you are photographing moose in Montana or Alaska, the rut is something truly awesome to behold. Personally, I have only seen a moose fight one single time. And that is saying something given how much time I spend around these animals – especially when I was living in Jackson Hole. More exciting than the fight itself though is the ritual like dance between the two males beforehand. 99% of the time, things never come to blows between two bulls. And that’s fine by me. Watching to males in perfect sync, locked in what almost seems like a choregraphed dance is something that you will never forget.

When two bulls meet in the woods during the rut, the situation is quickly sized up. If one bull is unquestionably larger and more dominant, then he will simply charge the smaller bull to chase him away. I once found myself in the middle of one of these situations and had to leap off a 15-foot cliff to get out of the way. I say leap, but it was more like a goose falling out of the sky, flailing about, and crashing into a dried-up channel of the river below.

But if two bulls of seemingly equal measure come across one another, things unfold very differently. Each one takes in the others’ physical size, height, antler width, and the symmetrical nature of those antlers. If the other bull appears to be of equal status, then the dance begins.

First, the ears fall off to the side of the head. When a moose lays its ears back, this is only a mid-level threat, as if to say “your making me uncomfortable.” This part is different from most other animals where ears that are laid back simply means “I’m pissed and it’s time for you to run.”

Next, the moose lower their antlers toward each other. This is like a fencer shouting, “on guard.” Both moose and elk will do this as a threat to each other and humans. It’s as if to say, “look at me. I’m big. Here are my weapons, this is your last chance, and yes, I am talking to you!” If the antler lowering is reciprocated by the other bull, then the dance begins.

Both bulls will turn sideways, profile to each other but angled slightly toward the other. Then slowly, they begin to sway their great and powerful heads and antlers from side to side. This isn’t like shaking the head no. They tip their antlers far to one side, then slowly and methodically toward the other side. And this whole thing is done in what seems like perfect unison. Each bull in sync with the other, all the while they slowly begin to walk forward, paralleling each other, while at the same time closing the gap.

By now the hormones are pumping. They are one step away from frothing at the mouth from all the adrenaline. But instead of foam, they begin to drool.

If you look at a moose, there is a big dangly thing under the chin, almost like a turkey’s beard. This is called the dew lap and it serves the purpose of collecting the drool of moose which is full of their pheromones. As the moose wanders about its world, that dew lap slaps against vegetation leaving the scent of the individual behind. During the rut, a bull’s dew lap can be so saturated that it’s literally dripping with yuck.

Slowly, the bulls close the distance with each other until they are mere feet away. Once in striking distance, they both turn toward one another, head on, eye to eye. It’s in this moment that something usually passes between the two males. Something is communicated, unbeknownst to us humans. Maybe self-preservation kicks in for one of the bulls. Maybe there is something else imperceptible that they are reading from each other that predetermines the outcome. I don’t know. But it’s at this point, time seems to stand still. Birds stop singing. The wind ceases to blow. And after what feels like an eternity of two moose statues made of stone staring into each other’s eyes, one of the bulls usually bows out, turns, and walks away.

If you are lucky enough to witness this firsthand, you can consider yourself a part of a very special and blessed club of people.

If you want photographs of fighting moose, or should I say, what looks like fighting moose, then you will want to photograph the bulls during the post rut. My photographs and video footage of fighting moose are all from this period of time. Once the rut is over, bull moose will group together into what we call a bachelor herd. Sometimes this is as simple as two large bulls hanging out together. I have personally witnessed groups as large as 23 bulls grouped up out in the sagebrush of Jackson Hole come late October / November.

Though the rut is over with, the bulls still have residual hormones pumping through their body. And if you happen to find one of these bachelor groups that time of year, it is not uncommon to capture thousands of photographs of moose with their antlers locked in what at least appears in still photographs as a dubious battle. Most of the time these scrapes are little more than sparring matches. Other times, usually with the really large and dominant males, things get a bit more intense.

Locations . . .

Grand Tetons National Park / Jackson Hole, Wyoming.

This is hands down the best place in the lower 48 states for photographing moose during the rut. Maine offers up some spectacular moose opportunities, but access can be extremely limited and require boats or float planes to find the type of actions one can see by simply driving down a park road in the Tetons.

Moose rut almost perfectly coincides with that of elk. By the third week of September, the activity is in full swing. However, it does appear that the moose rut lasts a while longer and can therefore drag out almost to November.

The Gros Ventre River (pronounced Grow-Vawnt) is one of the most easily accessed areas with great opportunities. I would highly recommend steering clear of the campground, however. A cow moose had to be euthanized a couple years back after she and bull were surrounded by hordes of photographers in the campground at first light. The cow spooked, tried to run, stepped into a campfire grate, and snapped her leg. This was the result of bad behavior by photographers. And for this reason, the park service has really cracked down on what goes on inside the campground – for good reason. Instead, consider hiking the riverbank in search of moose. The photographs will be much better without giant white campers in the background anyways.

All the river bottoms in the park contain large numbers of moose. The Gros Ventre, however, is probably the safer of the rivers for you to explore as grizzlies are beginning to drop down into the Snake River bottoms in search of easy protein come September once hyperphagia sets in for them.

Glacier National Park

I like the Many Glacier area for moose (plus its loaded with bears). Really, all of the lakes on the east side of the park can be good for moose. But one of the best happens to be down a small trail at the very end of Many Glacier. Park in the parking lot, and hike about ½ a mile to the pond. Make sure you are there about 2 hours before sunset and find a comfortable place to sit. Have patience. The moose will come.

Alaska

I’m going to give Alaska its own heading here simply because there are so many different places to go for great moose opportunities. Truth be told, you can just pick a road and start driving. You will eventually see moose. Moose in Alaska are like deer on a rural road in the Midwest. They are just there. And they are everywhere.

Kincaid Park, Anchorage. I don’t normally recommend that people go visit parks and green spaces inside of cities for wildlife photography. However, when it comes to finding and photographing moose, Kincaid could not be easier or more convenient. Located along the backside of Ted Stevens International Airport, there are probably a few hundred moose that call this expansive park home. This is one of the few places in Alaska where you can find great wildlife photography, and then be back in a hotel room minutes later. Don’t let the city park thing fool you though. This place also happens to be loaded with bears!

Powerline Pass Trail, Anchorage. As the saying goes, the best thing about Anchorage is that it’s only 30 minutes from Alaska. If you have ever been to Anchorage, then you probably know exactly what this means. With just a short drive, you find yourself out of the city and immediately surrounded by the Alaskan wilderness in the form of the Chugach Mountains. Powerline Pass Trail is up in the area known as Glen Alps. Go here and hike the trail in the morning and evening beginning in late August through October (late September – mid October is best). The trail is rather easy and traverses alpine tundra. Some very large bull moose congregate here for the rut. You will encounter lots of hikers and mountain bikers, but don’t let the number of people fool you – grizzly bears are about in high frequency here especially in late August thanks to the cornucopia of berries.

Denali National Park. No list discussing moose would be complete without at least mentioning Denali. Denali, which means something akin to “the great one” is aptly named. Not only is Mount Denali (thank God they finally changed the name) the largest mountain in North America, the national park by that name sake also plays home to the largest moose in the world. And. They. Are. Everywhere.

Denali is a unique park that is similar to Zion. You can only access the first 15 miles of the one road in the park by your private vehicle. If you want to go further, you have to jump on a shuttle bus. You can tell a bus to stop and hop off at any point and then jump on board the next one that comes through. So, even though there is a weird setup for those more accustomed to national parks in the lower 48 states, it does work, and you can easily get around this most spectacular of parks as a wildlife photographer with a little bit of planning.