Our first brush with wildlife is by horse-drawn sleigh. We're now in the midst of an elk herd on the National Elk Refuge in Jackson Hole. The elk are intolerant of humans on foot, but they are accustomed to the horses and sleighs. We slip through the herd quietly, and it feels like I could stretch out my arms to touch them. Some are lying down, some are standing, some mothers are mewing to their calves. We pass by two elk locking horns in a gentle confrontation. In the quiet and the fog, the sound of horn-on-horn stands out in relief. Being among hundreds of elk, I feel like I'm getting a wolf's-eye-view of his prey. This must be what it feels like to be a wolf.
After the sleigh ride, we go to the National Museum of Wildlife Art. It's no surprise to me that the wildlife of this area have inspired works of art. Still, it is confirming to see that others have felt as we do about animals.
After lunch and as the sun is beginning to set over the mountains, we drive in our vans about 38 miles north of Jackson to Buffalo Valley. One of our three guides, Benj, is relating lots of facts about the geological and cultural history of the area, but the beauty of this place is getting in the way of my absorbing them. I was prepared and excited to see wolves on this trip, but I can't help feeling blindsided by the unexpected beauty of the landscape.
We drive between two mountain ranges. On one side of the road, the mountains are quite young, Benj says; on the other, they are extremely old. I don't catch the years between them, but I do know I like being caught in time; being caught between the ages in some timeless space. Yellowstone — there's no time here, yet there's all times all at once.
Benj points to an area out the window and says, “that is the most remote place in the U.S.” It's in the southeast corner of Yellowstone and is at least 50 miles from the nearest road. This is my kind of place.
We continue past the Buffalo Fork River. Benj tells us it was heavily trapped i