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I continued to see coyote tracks in the snow, and I stopped to glass the meadows often despite the paucity of light of this predawn hour. Steady binoculars mandated shutting down the power source to my heater and once, by happenstance after shutting down my car’s engine; I heard the howl of a wolf.

On went the winter clothes, out came the tripod and camera, there was barely enough light for me to make out some movement in the sagebrush on the far side of Soda Butte Creek about six hundred yards away. I made my way to the closest vantage point, cranked up the ASA setting on the camera to compensate for the pseudo pre dawn light. I knew the photos would have no cash value but even photographers’ want record shots of rare wildlife, if that is all they can get.

My camera and tripod aimed to the east was a magnet for other photographers and wildlife observers and my solo time with ‘Canis lupus arctos’ was soon over, however, I was happy to share my vantage point so everyone could get a glimpse of the wolf specks off in the distance.

The sun popped over the hill so I could lower my ASA to a more advantageous setting for quality, now my wolf specks that were playing and snoozing on a distant ridge could at least be properly captured to disk. All too soon, it was eight thirty and time to start working my way back to the hotel to pick up my well rested family.

Upon reaching my turnout I found that photographers and tourists had boxed in my car. It was no longer the quiet place I had parked a short time before. I moved a tour operator, his tourists, a couple of vehicles, then I started my way back. I hadn’t gone a half-mile when I saw a large bull elk standing in the creek; it appeared as though he couldn’t get out. The wolves, playing and snoozing, across the canyon were waiting for him to get hypothermia and die. This unfortunate elk was so close to the road I figured the camera shy wolves wouldn’t come to feed until after dark.

After taking a few photos of the doomed elk I got back on the road. A mile up the road I spotted a herd of Bighorn Sheep at the top of a cliff, there were some nice rams so I stopped to take some photos. Soon, it was time to hurry off to the hotel.

Five miles down the road I saw a flash of something cross the road, upon reaching the spot, looking to the rock outcrop above me, I spotted a coyote in great light so out came the equipment and after the coyote posed for a couple of photos it was really, really time for me to head for the hotel. I surely was glad that I had the wisdom to leave my wolf specks on the hill so I had the two and a half hours I needed to drive through the forty miles of road through north Yellowstone’s bounty.

The family was disappointed about missing the wolves, coyote and bighorn sheep but they were hopeful about seeing more. We worked our way back to the turnout just short of where I had left the elk, the turnout was full of exuberant onlookers who had been watching the wolves feed on the dead elk in the creek, dangit, did I miss the show?

I had Sharon drop me off below the photographer’s knob above the wolf kill; the rangers had closed a mile of road to parking. I joined the photographers who informed me several wolves had eaten their fill and could be seen napping a couple of hundred yards away, I joined the vigil, taking some record shots while waiting for the wolves to become hungry again.

Soon, one of the wolves began to howl and stood up and stretched, he howled some more. He rousted his buddy from his slumber and soon they were assessing their audience on the hill. Their deliberation complete, the wolves must have dismissed us as a minor annoyance because they playfully started working their way toward the lunch counter at the creek and then the show began.

They frolicked in the snow and appeared to attack a vole or two as they worked their way toward the creek, the black wolf held back as the grey wolf reached the bank by the kill, he then must have decided he was not yet hungry enough to wade the icy creek for a meal. He retreated, and then the black wolf advanced, hungrier than the grey, he waded to the kill for a meal.

Meanwhile, my wife had dropped off my eleven-year old, Scott, so he could join me on photographer’s knob for a, in the field, photo lesson. Scott, despite his age, has a keen eye for composition and is quickly building a nice portfolio of his own.

The whole time the wind had been holding steady at 15 miles per hour and the ambient air temperature was about 10 degrees, in my hasty exit from the car to get up to the knob, I had forgotten my gloves. The photographer downwind of me was glad I showed up as long as I stood in the proper place to break the incessant wind. Photographers cooperate in many ways in the field!

My numbed fingers made many trips from my pockets to the shutter button, and being slightly underdressed I was freezing my butt off but there was nowhere I would rather be. Scott decided that his portfolio had fattened enough for this frosty day and rejoined my wife and eight-year old son Cody in the warmth of the car, I instructed Scott to tell my wife I would be finished when the sun dropped over the hill. The subordinating of my physical comfort too close encounters with rare animals was a no brainer. That evening it took a half-hour in the hot tub to get the deep chill off. But all was well; ‘Canis lupus arctos’ wasnow a part of my portfolio.

The following morning I returned to the knob before sunrise, this time dressed for the minus four-degree occasion sporting my REI, goose down parka, and bibs which were designed for penguin researchers in Antarctica. I was delighted to find the whole Druid Pack of about fifteen wolves a couple hundred yards from the kill. During the night, they had eaten their fill. As luck would have it, a superfluence of wolf watchers, of which I was a part, returning to a well-known kill, drove the Druid Pack into the woods on the far side of the canyon.As we held our vigil for returning hungry wolves, several of us compared notes and stories but all to soon it was time to head back to Gardiner to pick up the family for the long drive home.

Serendipity had dished up the wolves for us and Yellowstone provided a plethora of additional mega fauna as a reward for our efforts. Our mad dash for the North Yellowstone road was fraught with hazards, but we reaped the rewards of our reckless optimism because, if you don’t show up, you deny yourself an adventurous experience. But, I suppose a pragmatist or pessimist could argue if you are killed or maimed in a storm you deny yourself the pleasure of a narcissistic experience as well. I like my way better!

Getting there

Gallatin Field Airport in Bozeman, Montana is the best place to fly into to access North Yellowstone. Although not a large city, it is the gateway to this part of Montana and Yellowstone and therefore has good airline service. Northwest, Delta, Horizon Air, United Express all have flight service to Gallatin Field.

If you are driving, head to Livingston Montana on interstate 90, then head south on highway 89 till you hit the parkWhere to stay

Gardner, Montana, a small town with reasonably priced motels and restaurants and is a good place to use as a base. I recommend the Best Western Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel ( ) because of the indoor pool for the kids, the hot tub I use for defrosting at the end of a frosty day of photography and the horse corrals I use for my horses in summer.

Cooke City and Silver Gate Montana on the Northeast entrance of the park offers many lodging options as well and is closer to the Lamar Valley. The Cooke City and Silver Gate communities also offer access to some of the best snowmobiling in the world.

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