TWO BULL MOOSE COLLIDE IN THE OCTOBER RUT, TWENTY FEET FROM MY CAMERA IN THE CHUGACH MOUNTAINS OF ALASKA

This was a wonderful adventure! I was visiting Alaska in October for the purposes of a series of lectures, having flown in directly form New Orleans, the site of the American College of Surgeons Congress. I was prepared for a bit of a change in climate, but this meant going from the muggy heat of the Crescent City to fresh snow on the hills around Anchorage. I was eager to get out into the surrounding wilderness whenever I could complete my assignments, and had rented a Jeep 4-wheel drive for one day to cross over the Alaska Range north of Anchorage. But I had one day before that excursion, and wanted to go into the Chugach Range east of Anchorage. I was hiking in running shoes through the underestimated snowfall, and was armed with my camera and tape recorder. I went out on the prowl looking for what I thought I might be able to find at this time of the year, even though I had been assured that what I hoped to see was unlikely, "but at least you might be able to see some tracks!"

As you see here, I did! The tracks I saw were being made at the time, by a big bull moose, who had run off al short distance from an alder thicket, and then ponderously sat down in the snow facing into the warm sun. I came upwind as he sat, chewing his cud, aware of my presence, but distracted by something else to my right in the alder thicket. I had heard--and in one glimpse--seen, a few cow moose moving up the valley earlier, but that sound was gone now and still there was a "presence" felt in the silence to my right. I shot pictures of the seated bull moose, as I kept looking to my right, where his attention was also focused.

He came out with a bellowing charge and the crashing of branches! The challenger was a bull moose that was younger and looked stronger, even though a bit smaller, than the battle scarred bull in front of me who got to his feet and snorted a warning. They circled each other, and made a few feinting charges, but veered off. I could shoot pictures with both bulls in the frame as they continued to threaten each other. The younger challenger moved up the mountain on the high ground, and the first bull moved down, even closer to me as I stood motionless except for the sound of the shutter release. The challenger skidded down the mountain in a charge that hit the bigger bull in the flank, but he wheeled around and pushed the challenger off his feet, who slid flailing past me!

I shot film until the grinding of the rewind was heard by both combatants, who paused only long enough for me to get out the tape recorder. Before I could reload the camera with my only spare roll of film, they were clashing head to head, and the tape recorder collected what sounded like two sheets of plywood slamming together. Both were fatigued, and glowered at each other with headgear only inches apart, as I took the shot you see here. The first bull appeared too weary to continue as his visible ribs heaved while the younger bull crowded into his space.

The rut is a busy time for these bulls in their dominance displays and combat, and they may lose over 150 pounds from their constant struggle and inability to feed for any extended period. With a harsh winter coming up quickly, this lack of energy storage is an effective means of thinning the population of bulls so that only the very strong--and not too old--survive the winter, leaving the sparse foodstock to the pregnant cows who have not used up their energy reserves in such virile pursuits.

As I watched from only a few feet away, the final clash occurred. The challenger pushed the bigger bull backward until his rear legs buckled and he twisted down in the snow and he went down. Now it was the challengerís turn to stand and breathe hard with large plumes of steam coming from his nostrils and off his flanks. He did not press his advantage further, but simply stood with his head down aimed at the first bull. The primary bull got to his feet and turned tail, walking slowly away sideways until he got to a position near where he had been when I had first encountered him. As the big bull flopped down in an ungainly sitting position with fresh blood glistening on his shoulder, the challenger, turned and slowly walked back through the alders in the direction I had seen the cows moving at the outset. The King is dead; long live the King!