Harassed Wildlife—Not Always Able To Cope
Bert Gildart: Yesterday, I received a note with an attachment of elk crossing a special highway in Canada, which is located just north of our Montana home. The actual setting is the turnoff from Banff to Highway 1 going to Calgary, Alberta. The caption read:
Build it and they will come.
One response was:
“Imagine That.”
The Province of Alberta had to build elk their own crossing because elk were being killed, and, of course, speeding motorists were endangered when their vehicles struck these 800-pound animals. Traditionally, elk had used the area as a natural crossing, but as the caption said:
“There were far too many accidents.”
And so, officials found it necessary to build elk their own overpass. As you can see the photo is a dramatic one, and I wish the name of the photographer had been attached. Wish, also, I’d taken the photo, but I didn’t, though I’ll certainly post the person’s name if my veterinarian friend in Texas ever provides it.
Tragically, wildlife and humans are on a collision course, and just this morning I was reminded of all the various ways. The setting for this irresponsible behavior was not Alberta, rather our own backyard.
In my on-going labors to unpack our Airstream, this morning I pulled in our slideout so as to create a more comfortable passage between the side of our shed and trailer. I needed such room to roll my blue-boy to the septic drain. With the space beneath the slideout now exposed, I discovered a dead skunk.
We live in a rural area, and over the years have found that there is an element here that shoots virtually anything that moves, and a small hole suggested that’s what had happened. There was no odor, just a striped skunk that was probably doing little more than walking through some neighbor’s back yard, and was rewarded with a .22 caliber bullet. Because the bullet didn’t kill the skunk immediately, the wounded animal managed to drag itself to something that appeared to be a shelter—the area beneath our slideout.
Similar things have happened to many other animals as well. Once, that we know of, it happened to a bear; but most frequently to coyotes, and that is always infuriating, as Janie and I thoroughly enjoy their mournful “songs,” which sometimes accompany us as we drift off to sleep.
WHAT THE HELL IS IT: Though we consider the mindset of those who insist they must shoot anything that moves to be reprehensible, there is one positive outcome, tiny though it may be.
For a number of years Janie and I have conducted a natural history contest for NOWA, a chapter of the national organization of hunters and fishermen called the Outdoor Writer’s Association of America (OWAA). Come banquet night, our contest (Entitled: What the Hell is It?) requires each table to identify as many as 25 objects that cover several very long tables.
Over the years objects have included skulls (Any idea what this one is?) cut off from dead carcasses, and that’s what I’ll do with my skunk carcass. After that I’ll boil the head to removed hair and flesh. Finally, I’ll immerse the clean skull in a bucket of water containing a small amount of bleach.
Objects other than skulls have included fishing lures, the bacculum (come on, don’t embarrass me; look it up!) of a walrus (male, of course), ticks (displayed in a vile containing formaldehyde), the paw print of a wolf, scales off a tarpon (they are huge), feathers from common birds, an eagle claw, bullets of various calibers that must be determined (once a .50 caliber bullet), and much, much more.
This year, I’ve got some real surprises, as Rich Luhr, publisher of Airstream Life well knows. For those who won’t be attending the contest, I’m providing a link to the site of the man who spilled the beans.
But if you’re attending, don’t peak!
