Chapter II: Part 2

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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_

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_

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.

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.

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.

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.

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).

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.

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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.

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.

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