John Vucetich, a wildlife ecologist from Michigan Technological University, leads the wolf-moose Winter Study at Isle Royale National Park.  We wake to 50-mile-per-hour winds and 10 inches of new, wet snow. The snow is quite a marvel, unless you’re the moose whose feeding is restricted because the snow is too exhausting to slog through. Most of the moose have been experiencing a relatively easy winter. The risk of being killed by a wolf is lower this year than any living moose can recall; the fir twigs are large and numerous, and the snow has been shallow all winter.  Until today. The snow is not catastrophic, just difficult. Do they wonder why they suffer? Do they linger a few moments longer before getting up again and then sigh before plowing through the snow for another bout of foraging? Moose certainly have thoughts, and some we understand — the fear of being chased by a wolf, the pleasure of eating fresh blue-bead lilies in the spring. But our knowledge about the content of most moose thoughts — thoughts that are as real as any of my mine — lie at the fuzzy boundary between inference and imagination.  To our surprise and their good fortune, we observe the Chippewa Harbor Pack feeding from the carcass of an adult moose they recently killed — probably the day before yesterday. They killed it less than a mile from the last moose they killed, which had been a calf. And a couple days before that, we observed the Chippewa Harbor Pack chasing a cow and her calf. Both moose had blood on their legs. So today, the Chippewa Harbor Pack may well be chewing on the bones of the calf’s mother. They’ve had as much food in the past five days as they’ve had in the previous three weeks.  I’ve watched these wolves and their ancestors for seven weeks each winter for a decade. Rolf and Don have done so for several more decades. It’s no small effort, but it provides just a glimpse of their lives. Last month, the Chippewa Harbor Pack was on track for one of the lowest kill rates we’ve ever observed. But this week and next their need for food will be reasonably well satisfied. Was last month just a tough stretch in what otherwise were pretty good times? Or were these past few days just a brief reprieve from generally tough times? I suspect the latter, but I’m not entirely certain.  It’s a kind of uncertainty that routinely follows long-term observations. You watch for some time, get a sense of how it might be, and then you see something completely different. What’s normal — what you saw before or what you see now?  During the first two decades that scientists observed the wolves on Isle Royale, the predators had a very strong influence on moose abundance. Then climate replaced the influence of wolves over the next two decades. Understanding nature and the lessons of long-term research may require adjusting our sense of what counts as normal.  Most days in the past month have been some variation of snow, wind or both. Some days we get going early in anticipation of being shut down by midday. Other days we wait, looking for early signs that the winds or clouds are about to grant a reprieve. Our lives are governed by subtle shifts in how the wind and clouds pass over Lake Superior. Today, we are granted an afternoon flight.  The Chippewa Harbor Pack surprises us again. They are near their same kill site — 50 meters from shore, near the head of Moskey Basin. But this time there are six wolves. During every observation since Feb. 4, we’ve seen only five wolves. We presumed the sixth wolf had died or dispersed; we guessed death.  Comparing photographs from previous flights with those taken today suggest that the missing wolf was the smallest, likely a pup. It’s not uncommon for pups to stay behind, maybe near an old kill, while the rest of the pack travels.  Don and Rolf find only tracks of the West-End Duo on the south shore near Long Point. But this country around Long Point is home to quite a few moose. If they kill one near here, they’ll remain in the area for several days, and we might learn about it later.
After enjoying a relatively mild winter so far, the moose of Isle Royale National Park struggle to plow through 10 inches of new snow in search of food.