Curious Caribou

Once ashore, the caribou stop to regroup as if they’re engaged in a family reunion—and for all I know, they are. Among this family are three stags, the lead one an old bull with a magnificent rack. Some two hundred yards downriver to the west of me, they all stand quietly—turned my way—looking intently in my direction.

Slowly, carefully, I begin to walk closer, cutting our distance in half in order to get a clearer photo of the group. Still they stand, staring, as if trying to gauge my intentions. I am struck by their lack of intimidation and the curiosity they exhibit as they allow me to approach closer and closer. Finally, they turn, gallop up a nearby sand dune, and disappear into the willows. . . .

Soon again, another group crosses downriver and assembles where the first group had. However, this time, instead of disappearing into the willows, they begin to approach me. Closer and closer they come. I am both elated and confused. Having come all this way, I am snapping photos that I had only dreamed might be possible. However, why are they continuing to come directly at me, now closing the gap to no more than twenty-five yards?

It doesn’t take long to get my answer. Suddenly, directly behind me the river bursts with churning water. Coming ashore no more than fifteen feet behind me are three caribou—a buck, a doe and their calf—wide eyes flashing, as startled to see me as I am to see them. I click off photos as rapidly as I can as they cautiously move ashore and circle around me to join the rest of their group—giving me a wide berth. Now it’s apparent why the herd is approaching me—they are coming back to pick up the stragglers! Even my presence is not going to deter them from making sure these three late crossers are safely able to rejoin their group.

Solo, Chapter 11