Where the antelope roam: following in the footsteps of Yellowstone’s pronghorn

NPCA's Joe Josephson leads a group on a hike following the migration of Yellowstone's pronghorn. Photo: Beth PrattAlthough the focus of yesterday's outing was supposed to be pronghorn, the musical bugling of the rutting elk resounded throughout, and the group encountered several herds, and a few dueling bulls. Yet even with their less showy courtship ritual (primarily a male pronghorn continually herding his harem), the pronghorn did not disappoint. Participants following the footsteps of the ancient animal encountered a small group on the shoulder of Mt. Everts in Yellowstone National Park and watched in delight as the animals loped across the hillsides.

The group, led by National Parks and Conservation Association (NPCA) Wildlife Fellow Joe Josephson, spent the day tracing part of the migration route of the Yellowstone pronghorn.

The nomadic pronghorns that inhabit the western United States wander long distances on their annually migration—research has shown movement up to 300 miles.  Yet the migration of Yellowstone’s pronghorn—numbering roughly 300—has been sharply curtailed by human development.

For the pronghorn herds that inhabit the park, a historical migration that once took the animals up the river canyon to nearby Paradise Valley in Montana has now been shortened considerably. Some of the pronghorn even forgo migrating and live year-round near the north entrance and Gardiner, searching out sustenance from the sparse forage during the winter months. Climate change may also be affecting the animals as a drier climate in the west impacts foraging conditions.

Josephson conducts outreach for the NPCA campaign to protect the pronghorn and is working with ranchers and landowners to remove or modify fences to help improve the animal's access through private land. Although pronghorn physiologically have difficulty jumping, they can crawl under fences designed with 18-inch openings on the bottom.

Pronghorn are truly remarkable animals. Called “speed goats” by Lewis and Clark, the fleet-footed creatures can sprint across a grassy steppe at speeds of up to 60 mph. As the fastest land mammal in North America, an adult pronghorn can outrun its predators; even a newborn fawn a couple of days after its birth can run faster than a human. Pronghorn are not true antelope, despite their mention in the well-known song, "Home on the Range," under that name.

Visit the NPCA website for more information about the group’s efforts to protect Yellowstone’s pronghorn.

Where the pronghorn antelope roam: Yellowstone’s Northern Range

Pronghorn in Yellowstone's northern range on March 10, 2010 (photo by Beth Pratt)One of the delightful rites of spring in Yellowstone National Park is the annual gathering of pronghorn at the park’s north entrance. Every year a herd of pronghorn rendezvous in the meadows and hills near the famed Roosevelt Arch as they move to their summer range.  

The nomadic pronghorns that inhabit the western United States wander long distances on their annually migration—research has shown movement up to 300 miles.  Yet the migration of Yellowstone’s pronghorn—numbering roughly 300—has been sharply curtailed by human development as Tom Arrandale documents in a recent article for the National Parks Conservation Association, “Going Nowhere Fast.”

For the pronghorn herds that inhabit the park, a historical migration that once took the animals up the river canyon to nearby Paradise Valley in Montana has now been shortened considerably. Some of the pronghorn even forgo migrating and live year-round near the north entrance and Gardiner, searching out sustenance from the sparse forage during the winter months.

Pronghorn are truly remarkable animals. Called “speed goats” by Lewis and Clark, the fleet-footed creatures can sprint across a grassy steppe at speeds of up to 60 mph. As the fastest land mammal in North America, an adult pronghorn can outrun its predators; even a newborn fawn a couple of days after its birth can run faster than a human. Pronghorn are not true antelope, despite their mention in the well-known song, "Home on th Range," under that name.

Another spring arrival who Yellowstone locals enjoy greeting is a solitary pronghorn buck, alternatively nicknamed Peanut, Solo, or Andy by residents. In the spring and summer months he can often be seen grazing or napping contently in the grasslands and hillsides near Roosevelt Arch or on the lawns of some of the park’s historic structures outside of Gardiner.

Viewing pronghorn in Yellowstone: Pronghorn can be seen year-round at the park’s northern entrance, but are most noticeable during early spring on the Rescue Creek Trail and Old Gardner Road. In summer, the animals are often spotted in Lamar Valley as well.

Andy the Yellowstone Pronghorn: More Photos

Andy, my pronghorn buddy, is doing fine. He continues to hang out around my home and assert his loner status from the herd. Here's some recent photos. For those of you new to the Andy story, check out my prior blog entries. I love seeing Andy every evening when I arrive home--he's a very dependable and cheery neighbor.

Andy is BACK!

Regular readers of my blog will recall my pronghorn friend, Andy, who hangs out near my home in Yellowstone. Andy's been away for his winter vacation, but this week he returned to his old haunts. I took a photo of him napping this afternoon. I'm glad to see that Andy survived another winter--he's a tough old guy.

Andy's Back

A Spring Hike in Yellowstone: A Photo Essay

Spring is earned in Yellowstone, and both the people and wildlife alike greet the melting of the snow and the rising of the temperatures with a sense of accomplishment. For us humans, winter’s chill poses discomfort; for the animals of Yellowstone, it can threaten their survival—especially for its ungulate populations. Foraging for food underneath the deep cover of snow is tough even in the mildest of winters; Dr. James Halfpenny, in one of his classes, compared it to eating cereal all summer, then having to survive on the cereal box all winter.

This past Sunday I took a hike along the Rescue Creek trail and encountered an abundance of wildlife also appreciating the warm sunshine.

My Typical Yellowstone Weekend: A Photo Essay

When I am not traveling, I usually include a hike up Old Gardiner Road in my weekend plans. On Saturday, the pronghorn were in abundance during my walk--indeed, I had to stop and wait a few times as the animals crossed the road so as not to disturb them.

Under a blue sky and the much longed for sunshine, I took a ski on Sunday morning up the Mammoth Road to below Bunsen Peak.

And while the rest of the world watched the Superbowl in the afternoon, I tested my new digiscoping equipment in my front yard. Here are two of my first amateur efforts:

Andy

Andy, as I have named my pronghorn antelope buddy, is a regular fixture at my home near the north entrance of Yellowstone. When I run in the evenings, I often see him grazing near Roosevelt Arch. When I walk to my car to drive to work, I often say good morning to him as he naps nearby. This spring he displayed a long, black gash on his side that was probably the result of a tussle with another pronghorn buck, but it has since healed.

I relate to Andy. We both like solitary, peaceful time away from the herd, and naps in soft, grassy meadows. I also enjoy wheat grass shots, although he eats the roughage raw. I wonder if he likes human proximity or does he simply feel safer in our company? He has an enormous wilderness (Yellowstone is larger than Delaware and Rhode Island combined) to frolic in, so why hang out near my Toyota Prius and the park warehouse?

I’ve written before about pronghorns, but I love watching them as they look like they belong more appropriately on an African savannah outrunning lions. Indeed, no predator in Yellowstone can outrun them; once they reach maturity, they can attain speeds of up to 50 mph.

Pronghorn Fawn: Cuteness Rating 10

Biology has no “cuteness” rating, but even with my science education I keep reverting to using the term to describe the assortment of wildlife babies I’m encountering in Yellowstone.

To my utter delight, today I witnessed a pronghorn and her fawn dashing across a meadow near Blacktail Deer Plateau—and cute really is the only word that does the fawn justice.

As you may recall from a prior entry, I reported that pronghorns are North America’s fastest land mammal, clocking in speeds of up to 45-50 miles an hour. Because of their quickness, once they reach adulthood predators have a difficult time catching them. Predation of young pronghorns, however, is common. Even so, nature affords some protection to the fawns—just two or three days after birth they can run at speeds of 10-20 miles per hour.

A "Bully" Day

I won’t be premature again in declaring the official arrival of spring in Yellowstone, but today’s weather definitely displayed characteristics of non-winter. I spent the day basking in the sunshine and viewing wildlife; to quote one of my favorite historical figures, Teddy Roosevelt, I had a “bully” day.

I hiked up to the top of a ridge along the Rescue Creek Trail and had a premium seat for wildlife watching. Herds of bighorn sheep, pronghorn antelope, and mule deer all lingered in the basin, munching on the newly green grass. At times, hikers coming up the trail startled the animals and from my high perch I watched the ballet of these graceful creatures as they galloped across the basin. Seeing a pronghorn in a full run is simply breathtaking. Near my vantage point, a small uinta ground squirrel peered out of some sagebrush, probably having recently emerged from hibernation.

Speaking of hibernation, a much larger mammal has emerged from its winter slumbers as well—grizzly sightings in the park have been frequent. Although at first I was fearful about hiking alone in grizzly country, I’ve gotten accustomed to thinking of myself in the middle of the food chain. Not that I’m entirely comfortable, but at least I haven’t been forced to give up my cherished solitary wanderings (I realize the behavior is risky, but so is driving a car). We’ll see how I feel once I’ve had my first encounter with a 600 lbs bear. On a positive note, I’ve discovered that hiking in the vicinity of large predators has made me more observant—out of necessity—yet I see more of what nature has to offer with my heightened level of awareness.

So many good wildlife sightings today—here’s a collage.

I SURVIVED THE WINTER OF 2008! SPRING HAS ARRIVED!

"It's spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you've got it, you want - oh, you don't quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!" Mark Twain

"Science has never drummed up quite as effective a tranquilizing agent as a sunny spring day." W. Earl Hall

Living in California for the past few years, I had forgotten the utter surge of joy and wonder that accompanies that first true day of spring.

In two-season California, except for at the higher elevations, winter never really arrives and most of us live in a perpetual, extended spring and summer; the seasons exist, but winter is pretty lazy in the sunshine state and summer never fully retreats. I love the California climate, but coming from New England I had a hard time calling a season winter when I could wear shorts and sandals.

Winter is not shy in Montana and Wyoming. This past week I had a bleak moment of despair. I had hopefully donned a pair of shorts for a run one afternoon when the thermometer reached 42F. On the last mile of my run snowflakes fell on my bare legs.

I began to think spring had deserted us here up north, perhaps a result of climate change. I began to feel regretful about every light I hadn’t turned off when I left a room or every time I forgot a reusable shopping bag when I ran errands. Surely this was a punishment for my occasional environmental lapses.

Today, spring arrived, a poem of blue skies, warm sunshine, fluttering butterflies, and blossoming flowers. The temperature rose to 58F and even the southwestern wind blew warmly.

I hiked up the ridge (in shorts and a short sleeve shirt!) over Rescue Creek, stopping to examine the tiny white phlox flowers and the slender green leaves of the budding bitterroot. I also discovered wolf tracks, and while examining the canine footprints I watched an orange butterfly erratically flutter nearby. Bluebirds also flew overhead, landing frequently on the ground in search of a snack.

The resident ungulates also had spring fever. A herd of pronghorn antelope approached me on the trail, playfully trotting within twenty feet of me. They seemed to relish the sunshine as much as I did. Elk, bison, pronghorn and mule deer frolicked together in my front yard in a scene reminiscent of the peaceable kingdom.

American Serengeti

The northern range of Yellowstone has been dubbed by many the "American Serengeti" due to both the quantity and diversity of the wildlife. And I live right in the prime winter range of this area--creatures venture in my frontyard searching for forage at the lower elevations. I will miss my neighbors in the summer when they head for higher ground as I am now used to an assortment of animals greeting me when I open my door. See photo at right--that's my house and black Subaru amidst the bison, pronghorn and mule deer traffic!

Today I hiked up the Rescue Creek Trail in search of bighorn sheep. I always hoped to see these delightful creatures in my wanderings in the Sierra high country, but the nearest I came was finding their scat on a hike up the Granite Divide. I've been lucky enough to see the bighorn twice since I've been in the park, but they're the one ungulate that doesn't frequent my front yard.

In just a five minute walk from my house, I arrived in a beautiful basin over 6,000 feet. I stopped frequently to scope out the ridge with my binoculars, and to watch the elk and pronghorn I encountered. I climbed up Rattlesnake Butte for a view of the Yellowstone River canyon, and tried to create an interesting backstory for the adjacent Turkey Pen Peak. For fifteen minutes I stood and observed two resting pronghorn antelope, but the bighorn sheep remained elusive.

An Assortment of Ungulates

Day two of wandering through the peaceable kingdom. My front yard seems to be the new cool hangout for ungulates. Perhaps they heard about all those donations I made to animal rights groups?

Resting elk near the Yellowstone river

One looks at me curiously

Nearby a herd of mule deer nap in the sun

Itchy!

The dainty pronghorn also showed up for the ungulate gathering

And an ungulate trifecta: elk, bison, and pronghorn all in one photo!

My Backyard Wildlife Safari

Many people remarked about the absence of wolf photos after I returned from the wolf study course in Yellowstone. I had some fabulous photographs of wolf scat, but no actual canis lupus. As my photographic skill is limited and my small point and shoot has a paltry zoom, capturing wildlife through the lens has been difficult, unless I wanted to risk being eaten or trampled. In Yosemite this wasn’t much of an issue (how many photos does one need of a steller’s jay?), but in this park representatives of what my BFF calls ‘charismatic mega-fauna’ walk by my front door daily.

I’m happy to report that I’ve rectified the problem and bison will no longer appear as indistinct dots in my photos. I spent an hour in a local camera store in Bozeman this weekend and the wonderful clerk helped me get outfitted. I still remain ignorant of terms like f-stop and aperture, but it doesn’t matter—all I really need to do is press a button and presto, a photo appears.

For my first photo safari, I ventured about 100 yards from my door and observed mule deer and pronghorn antelope. I love this graceful ungulate-- a dainty yet fast creature that looks like it belongs on an African savannah. Pronghorns are the fastest land mammal in North America and can reach speeds of up to 60 miles an hour. I happen to live in one of the best places in the park to view pronghorn; Yellowstone has a population of about 300-400 animals.

Sadly the pronghorn, which also has holds the record for the longest land migration route in the continental US, is in danger of disappearing in Yellowstone because of human development that has disturbed their annual 400 mile trek. Efforts are underway to preserve the migration corridors and protect the park’s herd.