Storm ran off to chase the moose, as did Frankie and Nutok.  The dogs attached to me decided to run after them too, and got all tangled in a tree. They’re very strong when they want to be, so the started pulling very hard and slamming me into a tree. Soon the leashes were totally tangled. I saw that Chester was attempting to eat his leash to get free (he’s very talented) and pulled him toward me. As I got one dog toward me, another would lunge forward. Chester eventually ate his leash and ran free. After he was gone, I slammed into the tree couple of more times and then managed to untangle everyone.

After I got home, I unleashed Stubby, Bruno, and Chez, and corralled Neptune, Duchess, Magic and Decker into the yard. I went back to look for the missing dogs. I found Storm where the commotion happened. She was barking at a Momma moose and her baby. They were so big and cute and hairy! Storm came to me and I leashed her. Frankie, Chester, and Nutok soon came running along and I ran with them to our house.

When I opened the gate to let the delinquents in, Stubby decided to attack Storm and as I was breaking up the fight Bruno ran out. He ran up and down the street and I pounced him and caught him.

Once everyone was inside, I counted everyone.  They were all there and all safe.

Ah, spring time in AK is moose season! I should have known a moose was hanging around because Chester jumped the fence this morning.

Other news at Stinkypup is Decker’s radial subluxation. On Monday June 21st, Decker got beat up during a puppy party. Greg wasn’t around, so it was just me who pulled one dog off & hooked them up, pulled another dog off & hooked them up, and so on. I’m not sure who started the fight, but many snouts were involved, including Monkey, Pumpkin, Capella, Spike, Chester, Rocket, Ahab, Zeus, Nikki and Roo. All ten dogs were pulling and jumping and tugging on poor little Decker. Dog fights suck.

After I got everyone back on their chains I fed them, and then tended to Decker’s wounds. She had a couple of puncture wounds, which I shaved and cleaned. When Greg came home he helped me tend to the rest of her wounds. She had a long laceration on her back leg and bleeding puncture wound near her left armpit. We cleaned her up, gave her Rimadyl, Tramodol & Cephlex and put her in the pen. We’ve seen a lot worse, but were keeping an eye on her. She didn’t eat much on Tues. Wed. she ate a little and her wrist began to swell. We put ice on her wrist, which helped the swelling a lot. On Thurs. her entire arm began to swell. We iced it and the swelling went down, but she wasn’t getting better.

On Fri. we brought her to the emergency vet, who thought she just had a bad infection. She gave us Clavamox (a stronger antibiotic). Although the swelling went down, we now noticed she wasn’t bearing any weight on her leg and her wrist was floppy. She was breathing hard (a sign of pain in dogs), but I thought she was just too hot.

On Tues. we brought her to Dr. Flemme at Mt. McKinley animal hospital. Flemme is an expert in canine orthopaedics. He diagnosed her with lateral radial subluxation. He took e-xrays to confirm the problem. We left her at the vet and he was able to manually reduce the injury (meaning put the bones back where they were supposed to be without having to do surgery).

She needs to stay in a crate for 10 days and she’s quite uncomfortable. After that we’ll move her outside to the pen. I already told her she can move inside, but I think she prefers living outside with her sisters. She’s a shy girl.

Decker sporting a $200 cast.

Decker

So, that’s the current news from the StinkyPup ranch. Magic is adjusting to his cropped tail (I still need to take some pics), and of course, we all desperately miss Sam.

Another 100 yards, and Nicki suddenly ran ahead. I saw a mother and baby moose cross the path, then the mother ran left and the baby ran right. Nicki ran after the baby. Immediately, I heard some sounds that were a little like goats, sort of “mmaaahhh, mmaaaahhhhh.” Another second or two, and I caught up with Nicki. She was just off the trail, and had grabbed the baby moose by the neck and was shaking it. I yelled “no,” and went to grab Nicki by the collar. She backed away, then bit the moose on the haunch. All the time, the baby was calling, “mmaaahhh, mmaaaahhhh” and was looking at me with big brown eyes full of fear. I heard the mother in the woods behind me, but she was (I think) afraid of me, and didn’t come close.

I caught Nicki’s collar and lifter her off the moose. The moose immediately ran away, and I hooked Nicki to the leash again. The baby was gone, though I could hear the mother moving around in the woods behind me. I yelled out an apology to the baby & mother, and we left. Total elapsed time was maybe 15 seconds.

Although the baby almost certainly got some puncture wounds, I did not see any blood or torn skin. I hope infection doesn’t set in, since otherwise there didn’t appear to be any life-threatening injuries. We passed the same spot on the way back, an hour later, and there was no sign of either moose.

Two days earlier, I had seen a mother and adolescent moose about a mile further up the trail. After the incident with the baby, maybe 15 minutes later, I saw at least one of the moose in the same area as the earlier day. So, there were at least three moose out that day. I think the baby was 3-5 weeks old. Not much bigger than one of our dogs (maybe 70 pounds?), it had a full coat of hair. It was standing fairly upright and had substantial legs, versus newborns that are very spindly, and seem to not be standing fully upright.

This was a nature encounter I would rather have not had. It looks like I’ll be keeping dogs on the leash, even when we’re in the deep woods. We did hear report of bear sightings in Chena Lakes, which is at the other end of my run if I do the fully 12-mile loop. Plus, there are wolf signs. Many pheasants, squirrels, and hare. Plenty of distraction, and some associated dangers.

Today was the first run with 12 dogs (versus 10) and on the RatStack/Mullen’s Slough route. We’ve been doing a 12 mile loop for two weeks. Sunday afternoon is a popular time to mush in our area, with lots of folks who don’t get out regularly during the week. It’s great to see the neighborhood, though not everyone knows some of the basic trail rules.

A case in point was that I came upon two people with an ATV and 6 or so dogs. They had driven their truck to the winter trail intersection from an access trail. It’s not my access trail, so I don’t know how far it is or over what conditions, but it was a surprising sight to see a truck there. I’ve never seen anything motorized on the winter trail except for snowmachines and ATVs.

My team was going fairly quickly (this is nearly 3 miles from our house, so they still had plenty of ya-yas at that point), and I needed to slow down to avoid overrunning the ATV team. They must have seen me when they started (when I was 50 yards from their truck), but went ahead. I called for trail, to pass them, but they didn’t hear or ignored me.

Neighbor and uber-musher Mike King pulled up behind me with his team. We were all waiting to pass. It was about 20 minutes — really — before they finally got a clue and pulled over. I asked them to hold their leaders, but instead they drove for another few minutes and tried again. This time, holding their leaders.

Trail passing etiquette for passing from behind is, essentially, that the team in front should pull over at first opportunity, set a brake, and hold their lead dogs to the side of the trail so the trailing team can pass. Then, to not pass again immediately, since being passed tends to energize dogs. Those folks didn’t seem to know about such things, and clearly weren’t keeping much of an eye on the trail behind them.

Anyway, I called out my thanks, and a warning that another team was behind me, and continued on. Another few miles and after crossing Pheasant Farm Road, my mush was going well. The team knows that section of trail, but hadn’t been there all season. After a steep downhill, we dropped onto the slough. This is a cross between a marsh and a river and a pond. Not a good place to try to get through in the summer, but during the winter there is a trail that drops on and off the ice, and crosses through some woods. Some TRDMA races go through there. Maybe the Yukon Quest does, too.

The trail was in, though not very well used. I followed it, and in an open field area Chester (my trusty loose leader) spun off and headed towards a cow & adolescent moose. Moose! No, it wasn’t too perilous. The team saw the moose, but they saw us and wandered off into the woods before we got there. We were within 200 feet or so, and Chester got close enough to say “hi,” but then we were past.

Another mile or so along the slough, towards the end where we get back onto Pheasant Farm Road (which at that point is more of a logging road), there was a tight right turn up a hill, and a small fallen tree across the trail. Suddenly, after following a trail all that way, there wasn’t any more trail. Maybe the main trail veered off without me noticing.

More importantly, the dogs went under the branch, down the other side, and immediately fell through the ice over the slough. Yep, the stinkypups got another bath!! It was surprising to me to find this thin ice, since everything so far had been solid. (For those who remember my bath from 2006: I’ve crossed that section many times, and the ice is totally solid and well used.)

I was wrestling with the branch, the dogs were swimming and trying to get through. It was an opening about the size of a kitchen table, or a bit bigger. I was thinking of trying to drag everyone up and back the way we came, but as I wrestled with the branch they kept pulling me forward, and eventually I got free of the branch, they leapt forward out of the water, and I was pulled in. My sled got a little sideways, and I was up to my waist in very cold, muddy, stinky water. I got the dogs to keep going, although they fell through the ice again, in a smaller hole, 15 yards ahead.

I told them “lets go” and held onto the sled, getting it right side up, to let them drag me through. Rather than trying to stand on the thin ice, or get up on my runners, I let them drag me along the ice (spreading out my weight). This worked, and we made it through the other side. I needed to untangle a few dogs once we were on a small bit of land (just a 15 foot section between parts of the slough), but otherwise nobody seemed any worse for wear.

Ahead, I could see a much wider part of the slough with a trail on it, which we joined. The rest of the mush was without incident. I’m sure there are some locals who can tell me about a current, or hot spring, or something similar that keeps that small section from freezing as early as the rest, but it was a surprise to me and the stinkypups. I’ve been through there this time of year before, without any problem. It might be that we would have made it through, if we didn’t have the additional downward momentum created by stopping on the tree branch. Or maybe my sled would have broken through, but not the dogs.

We passed Mike again on the way home (he had taken a different route). While the dogs do OK after getting wet, especially in the balmy 10 degrees Fahrenheit, when this all happened, I was soaked completely in both boots/socks, all of my right side to my waist, and most of my left side. Also both hands/arms.

The cool part is that once I was out of the cold water, I did not get cold for quite some time. My Apocalypse Design snow suit, heavy weight Apocalypse fleece pants, Patagonia expedition weight mountaineering socks, Baffin Design boots all did a great job.

Special thanks to my mittens, made by our neighbor Maureen. These are fleece outside and in, and either fleece or foam interior. These were totally soaked. I squeezed them out, and put them on. And they kept me warm, the whole way home! Amazing stuff…completely wet, and literally freezing solid on the outside, and my fingers were reasonably toasty for 45 minutes or so.

Back home, my pants and boots had started to freeze solid, and were quite heavy. My frozen mitts, coupled with the frozen clips and harnesses on the dogs, meant I needed to use my bare hands to unclip the dogs. (A technique for a frozen brass clip is to hold them in your bare hand for a few seconds, to thaw them.) Since it was 10 degrees above zero, this wasn’t as bad as it might seem….below-zero temps would have made this whole exercise much more perilous.

Ilana came out and finished up the dog care, and I squeegeed myself and my gear off, to get ready for another day.

For the record, my team was: Chester as loose leader, leaders were Chevy & Decker, Nicki & Roo, Storm & Rocket, Luke & Spike, Ahab & Higgs, with Simba and Rattles in wheel.

My second biggest personal fear is a moose encounter. On the night of Wednesday February 28, I had a moose encounter. This encounter ended without any injury, but had plenty of peril and almost-peril.

It was around 10:00 pm, with a temperature of about -25F. I was heading for the Jenny M. hill in the Two Rivers area, about a 19-mile loop that, with some variations, is one of our main winter excursions. Frankie and Storm were in the lead, followed by Nicki & Dekker, Monkey & Red, Higgs & Asa, Roo & Peetie, then Simba & Rattles. Chester was a loose leader (or follower, wherever inspiration took him).

We were moving at a reasonable pace, around 12 mph. The moon wasn’t up in the sky yet. We were heading along the winter trail (part of the Yukon Quest trail), and I had just crossed Pheasant Farm Road. There’s a little access trail that leads to a large field. Heading straight across the field gets on Baseline Road and towards the Pleasant Valley area. Our usual route is to cross the field, then bear right just before Baseline Road. Past a fellow’s house with several airplanes, then down a steep hill, to a slough that leads towards the back side of Jenny M. hill.

Just before the field, I saw four deep orange reflectors ahead of me — maybe 50 feet ahead. I was thinking it was another team, then some snow machines, then some of those orange reflectors that mark several trails in the area. I jumped on the drag pad while thinking all of these thoughts. My thought process arrived at “moose” around the same time the lead dogs arrived. It only took an instant, while I was stopping, for the dogs to reach the moose. Mooses. Alces alces gigas, to be precise.

It was a mother cow moose and her baby, probably a yearling, standing right in the middle of the trail. The mom was typical moose size: big. The baby was nearly as big. They were both straight ahead of me, and staring at me and the team. I had stopped so that Frankie & Storm were mere inches from the mom’s front legs.

Without thinking or planning to, I yelled at the top of my lungs, “F*CKING WORST CASE SCENARIO!!! DOGS!!! IT’S A F*CKING MOOSE!!!” I might have yelled a few other things after that.

By the time I had yelled the first word or two, my vision was obscured from the big breath cloud from the dog team. This is a phenomenon I’d noticed many times…stopping on the trail results in a cloud of collective dog breath. The team had bunched up a bit, and maybe some moose breath contributed to the cloud. Suddenly I couldn’t really see the moose, or my lead dogs! It was like a thick fog rolled in.

I had a few seconds to think of setting my ice hook and running up to try to do something. Some piece of my mind was wondering whether I had an axe in my sled bag (we never carry a gun — or even own one). As the fog cleared, the cow moose had moved closer. The baby had moved off to the side, out of the immediate picture.

The cow sort of snorted (not quite a bellow) a few times, and jumped / walked / stomped forward, up between Nicki/Dekker and Monkey/Pumpkin. The dogs were not barking, but were definitely paying attention. It had all happened so quickly that they were just starting to form a curious circle around the moose.

Was the moose stomping the dogs? That’s the biggest danger with a dog team. Moose are known to be cranky, especially later in the winter when food is scarce. Wolves are their only natural predator in the winter (bears are predators on moose, but hibernate during the winter. People and automobiles might also be included as predators). To a moose, a dog probably looks a whole lot like a wolf. And a team of dogs must seem similar to a pack of wolves.

The moose missed. None of the dogs got stomped, and the cow moose sort of shuffled off to the side rather than staying in the middle of the team. I could hear its hooves and its breath, maybe 20 feet in front of me. As soon as it was out of the way, I yelled some more. “Frankie, Storm: Ready, let’s go!!” The dogs went. It hadn’t even been 30 seconds. I actually ducked as I went by the cow moose, five feet to my right. If it were upset, it could have done something to me as I passed (according to the encyclopedia, female moose aggressive behaviors include kicking).

We were past! I looked back to see whether there was pursuit, and to check on Chester. I went forward about 200 feet, to the start of the open field, and stopped the team. At that point, I didn’t know whether dogs were stomped or otherwise injured or in trouble.

The whole team started looking and moving to the right, with Frankie & Storm actually starting to take a 90 degree right turn. ANOTHER F*CKING MOOSE!!! I couldn’t believe it.

This must have been the twin of the prior baby, or maybe it was offspring from the prior year. The team decided they wanted to investigate. This time, the moose was about 20 feet to the right, and like its other family members seemed more surprised than anything else. It didn’t make any move towards or away from us, and with a little more yelling I got the team to start moving in the right direction (away from these oversize deer creatures!).

Another few hundred feet and I stopped, fully in the open field. I looked around several times while I tended to the team, keeping an eye out for more moose family members (cousins, uncles…). Nobody was hurt at all, or even touched as far as I could see. Two necklines were unclipped (how did that happen?) and a couple of dogs needed their tuglines untangled, but no harm was done. Chester came running up from behind. All was well.

I have a few theories about the moose family. First is that they are a family. Young moose are born around May, and stay with their mothers for a year. Prior years’ offspring might also hang around. Twinning is fairly common if nutrition is good.

The moose I think was the mom was definitely larger than the others. Alaskan moose are the largest type in the world, with females easily over 800 pounds and 2 meters at the shoulder. When I went by it on the sled, it was looking down at me (aided by my ducking). The young moose I encountered first was still big, but not as big as mom (I’d say about 2/3 the height). I didn’t get close enough to the second offspring to tell whether it was the same size (a twin) or full-sized (a prior year’s offspring). Moose bulls and cows tend not to travel together, so I don’t think it was dad.

My reasoning for why the moose didn’t attack is as follows. First, it was quite surprised, and the whole encounter was over in just a few seconds. It didn’t have much time to start an attack, and the dogs weren’t showing any aggressive behaviors (like snarling, barking, and posturing).

Second, there was a young moose there, and the dogs were not paying much attention to it. Moose, like many other creatures, are known to attack when their young are threatened.

Third, this was basically a neighborhood moose (the natural range for a moose is only a few square miles. I’ve probably seen the same moose on other occasions, and passed it without seeing it at times, too). One of its most common everyday experiences, no doubt, is browsing for food near dog yards. In the dog yards of Two Rivers, Alaska, you’ll find any number of dogs (from a few to over a hundred), all chained and/or fenced. These dogs might get loud, but they have no opportunity to attack a moose.

If it were a cranky solitary bull moose, a little later in the season, the outcome might have been different. Deeper snow can lead moose to follow the trails, which they typically don’t do very much otherwise (trails might be convenient for a moose, but aren’t useful if there’s no food left on the trees and brush along the trails).

What could I have done if the moose started to attack the dogs? The plan forming in my mind when I first saw the moose directly in front of my lead dogs was to run to the front of the team, and try to use the gangline to pull the team forward, away from the moose. I was also ready to try to challenge the moose, to try to scare it away. These were, no doubt, stupid and futile ideas.

The final piece of my theory about the positive outcome is that the moose noticed the dogs, but also had a loud human, with a bright light, heading towards it. Maybe my first instinct, to yell loudly, served to give the moose second thoughts about any sort of aggression.

We finished the run without further encounters, and I made another check of the dogs when we got home. Everyone was fine, and we all slept soundly, with only a few scary visions of huge moose feet, the sound of the moose snorting and shuffling, and the thump of those feet hitting the packed snow of the trail.

Greg’s team lead on the way out and I led on the way back. While I was helping the dogs make their way up Jenny M, I saw a set of reflectors. I’ve been on this route numerous times and didn’t remember seeing reflectors on trees; however, the placement of the reflectors was just right– it was where two trails intersect. I continued up the hill and then noticed another set of reflectors. 4 reflectors on one tree?

I realized that I was about to run into not one, but two moose! Luckily, I was going up hill, so it didn’t take much effort to slam on the break and stop the sled. At that point, the moose ran away into the woods and the dogs hauled ass up Jenny M.

When I told Greg my story, he said, “good thing the moose had reflectors.”