From the Field:
Holy cow!
By Ian Smith
'From the field' articles chronicle the adventures, difficulties, and hard-earned insights that come with doing fieldwork in the remote and wild Northwoods.
During my tenure on the Voyageurs Wolf Project, I have spent a great deal of time ranging the remote regions north of Moose Lake in the eastern portion of the Greater Voyageurs Ecosystem. Most of this wild territory is free of roads and trails because of the numerous rivers, creeks, and wetlands. Field days in this region are always long, that is just something you knew going in.
​
From project housing, it takes about two hours of driving before you start your hike to this remote country. But the long trip is well worth it, the natural beauty is stunning. Rugged, glacier-carved rock ridges break through wooded hills, the area’s shifting topography offering several rewarding views of the surrounding environment.
​
In the summer of 2024, we studied the predation behavior of wolves from the Vermilion River Pack, which occupied this region. This was my second summer field season on the project studying the behavior of Wolf B2L, the breeding male of the pack. Studying B2L in Summer 2023 revealed he was a prolific ‘beaver killer’—hard-earned data we gleaned only through substantial time trudging through beaver-created wetlands to identify where he killed beavers or waited-in-ambush for them.
Wolf B2L, the breeding male of the Vermilion River Pack, with the breeding female of the pack in the background.
On this particular day in October 2024, my goal was to visit several locations where B2L spent at least twenty minutes of time—places where he may have killed prey. Throughout the day, I hiked through to all of these locations but found no evidence of a kill, not even an indication that he was trying to ambush beavers. He seemed to just be bedding down and resting. Pretty uneventful.
​
Finding “nothing” is important data because it confirms that the wolf did not kill prey in these areas. But I think any researcher will agree that documenting a kill, finding evidence such as a leg or a skull, is much more interesting than finding a resting site.
The remote region north of Moose Lake in the Greater Voyageurs Ecosystem. The river in this image is the Moose River which flows northward out of Moose Lake and ends at Namakan Lake in Voyageurs National Park.
After a long day of pushing through the woods, I started my long hike back to where I had parked the ATV, ready to head home. About halfway back to the ATV, I came across an old trail I didn't know existed. The vegetation was chest high, but it was still easier to hike than bushwhacking—and it seemed to go back toward the main trail I had parked the ATV on. Finding such trails feels like discovering the road to El Dorado after a long day of bushwhacking.
​
I had just a few more miles to go, rejuvenated by my convenient discovery. As I made my way down this new route, I noticed a parting of vegetation, carving a clear path down the left side of the trail. It was an animal path probably made by deer walking down the trail, just like I was. The only sounds were my footsteps and the birds in the late afternoon sky.
​
CRACK!
A cow moose on a trail.
The crisp break of wood caught my attention and I stopped abruptly. I could hear the crackle of movement coming from ahead of me. The trail curved to the right, cutting off my view twenty meters away. I stood still, waiting as the sound quieted before I continued down the trail. Just as I started moving, I could see something big just around the bend in the trail walking about thirty meters ahead of me, unhurried.
My first thought was, “Why is there a horse way out here?”
​
I am a bit near-sighted so I couldn’t see it clearly, but it walked with a similar gait as a horse and it was the same shape. But it stood much taller.
​​
I quickly realized it was not a horse at all, but a moose. As if it could hear the word “moose” in my thoughts, the large, hoofed creature turned back toward me and looked right in my direction.
I was not moving. The moose was not moving. We just stood there, staring silently at one another. It was a cow, a female moose. I quickly scanned for a nearby moose calf, but there wasn’t one that I could see—that was a relief because I had no interest in an encounter with a defensive mother moose.
​
After a couple of minutes, I slowly pulled out my phone to capture the encounter. I did not get the clearest picture, but at least I could tell it's a moose! ​Another few minutes went by as we continued our staring contest. I felt the itch to get going—there were still a few miles to hike before reaching the ATV to head home. But the moose hadn’t moved, it just continued staring at me.
The picture Ian captured of the cow moose during their encounter.
Finally, I took my first slow steps. Not toward the moose, of course, but instead I headed off trail. Now out of sight of the moose, I stepped behind the nearest thick tree, hoping that the moose would leave. I wasn’t quite ready to give up on the trail just yet. I thought if the moose saw me “leave”, it would probably do the same.
​
After waiting for what felt like a significant time, I peeked out from my barrier. I couldn’t see down the trail, so I paused for one last listen before stepping back onto the path. As I reached my spot back on the trail, I could see it. The moose stood where right I left it, still staring in my direction.
The Vermilion River Pack in early 2024. The wolf on the far right is Wolf B2L, the breeding male, followed by four of his pups.
But just when I got back to the trail, the moose turned and trotted off back down the trail, unhurried and unbothered. The crackle of branches slowly fading as the moose left the area (or so I thought).
​
I realized I’d been holding my breath and finally let it go. A bit slower than before, I took off down the path again. I looked to the ground as I approached where the moose stood, crouching down and looking at its tracks stamped in the earth.
​
It was a short examination, just a quick check on my way out. It’s not every day you get an intimate moose encounter—this was my first. But as I got to my feet, looking to leave, there was the moose again, its head turned back to look at me. This time it stood less than fifteen meters away.
I started to wonder how I would ever get past this moose. “Oh boy,” I whispered to myself, letting out a sigh. The moose turned and took a few steps toward me. Maybe she was a mother after all, because it sure felt like I had just been caught muttering something under my breath in protest.
​
Having a mother of my own, I knew better than to argue. I dutifully turned and marched right back into the woods. I abandoned the new trail, recognizing that it was a lost cause. I took the long way around back to the ATV, making sure to keep my objections to myself.
About the author:
IAN SMITH graduated from Macalester College in 2022 with a major in Biology. He has worked as a field technician with the Voyageurs Wolf Project since 2023, completing two summer seasons. Ian continues to study predation behavior of wolves in the Greater Voyageur Ecosystem this winter as part of the VWP.