The deer, the wolf and the river

We were up on a ridge overlooking the river. Normally we would have gone much higher, but there was a small herd of mule deer about 75 yards above us and we didn’t want to push them around.

With the deep snow this winter the four-legged hoofed creatures have had it tough enough without having to side step a photographer trying to gain a rocky ridge for a better view.

So we turned around.

On the way down we were looking over the river and there they were: Three whitetails wading the river at its widest point.

That might not make sense at first blush, but anyone who wades streams knows that usually the widest spot in the stream is also usually the shallowest spot in a stream. The whitetails knew this, of course, and were making their way slowly, but deliberately, across the North Fork.

Sure, it was a nice day — brilliant sunshine and the warmest temperatures so far this winter, which is to say it was all of 40. Maybe 42.

It didn’t make sense that the small herd of whitetails was crossing here and now. The snow on the side they were coming from was shallower and there was a lot more brush to eat. Once they reached the bank they struggled in the drifts until they got their footing. They slogged upstream in snow up to their hips.

We waited and watched.

Then it came into view. A wolf. Alone. Down the bank of the river. With its huge paws it walked easily over the drifts of snow. It headed downstream on the far bank and I thought for sure it, too, would swim the river to pursue the deer.

They were still floundering around in the snow.

But the wolf caught wind of something it didn’t like, possibly a skier that was on a trail below. Whatever the reason it made an abrupt turn and headed into the opposite direction, to the cover of a patch of doghair lodgepole pine.

We made our way down the ridge and lost sight of the wolf.

The three deer made it to higher terrain and thinner snow.

The wolf pursuit did not surprise me. The river bottoms are rich with wildlife all year, but particularly in the winter, providing enough browse to keep the herds going. The squeeze of the topography and the water itself also makes hunting easier. A wolf, or more normally a pack of wolves, have a far better chance of taking down a deer, moose or elk slowed down by water, snow and ice than bare ground.

A study in Banff National Park found that an estimated 40 percent of all winter wolf kills were in the river floodplain.

But on this day, the hunt, if it ever was one, didn’t work out for the wolf.

A chunk of ice floated down the river. We watched it slowly bump and grind its way in the current until it caught on a rock and broke in two.

Chris Peterson is the editor of the Hungry Horse News.