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Lone Wolf by Stephanie Kroepfl

Posted on April 8, 2017 by Jim Kroepfl

At one of the many silent auctions we hold in Grand Lake for worthy causes, my husband won a T-shirt. I’ve studied this shirt’s graphic a lot because it’s (1) beautiful and (2) ridiculously incorrect. The bottom portion of the graphic proudly proclaims “Colorado” and at the top is an imposing, snow-capped mountain. In the center are four animals: a bull elk (check), bull moose (check), grizzly bear (?) and howling wolf (?). Was the artist purposing messing with tourists, or did s/he not think it important to, maybe, spend three minutes doing research on this new fangled thing called the Internet? Although there are grizzlies in Wyoming, the last confirmed sighting in Colorado was in 1979. Although there are wolves in Wyoming (what do you say we avoid camping there?), in Colorado wolves are an extirpated species, meaning they no longer exist here but still exist in the wild elsewhere. Wolves were purposely eradicated from our state and last seen in the 1940s. But . . . (“Everybody I know has a big butt”—juvenile, but it’s one of my favorite Pee Wee Herman lines) since then there have been TWO confirmed wolves in Colorado.

The first was found dead from consuming poison in 2009 in Rio Blanco County, the northwest part of the state. And the second was found in (drumroll, please) our own Grand County; Kremmling, to be precise. A legal coyote hunter shot an animal near Wolford Mountain Reservoir on April 26, 2015, and after DNA testing, it was confirmed to be a gray wolf. BTW, the hunter was not charged since he obviously didn’t leap to the conclusion that he’d found a lone wolf that had traveled 1,000 miles from Montana’s Mill Creek pack.

So, will we soon be regularly hearing a wolf howl at the moon? Most gray wolves live in Michigan, Minnesota, Wisconsin (for the geographically challenged, not near us) and Montana, Idaho and Wyoming (all less than 1,000 miles away). And, true, males who have been kicked out of their pack are known to wander for thousands of miles. But given the number of highways and guns between here and there, no one believes a large number of packs will naturally populate Colorado anytime in the near future. Also, in January 2016 the Colorado Parks and Wildlife Commission voted NOT to allow the reintroduction of wolves back into the state, at least for now. Due to the wolf’s wandering nature, I’m sure the debate is not over between cattle and sheep ranchers vs. those who believe wolves will re-establish a sustainable population of moose, elk and deer.

For a fascinating and insightful read about wolf behavior, and a guy who may be a little “off,” try “The Man Who Lives with Wolves” by Shaun Ellis and Penny Junor. True story—unlike the design by that slipshod T-shirt artist.

This article was originally published in The Boardwalk newspaper, Grand Lake,

Colorado.

My Cabin is NOT an All-Inclusive Resort by Stephanie Kroepfl

Posted on March 22, 2017March 23, 2017 by Jim Kroepfl

WARNING: Do not read this article if you’re eating. Seriously.

We’d just spend a lovely long weekend on the Front Range, and when we returned home we were greeted by, well, to be blunt, a heck of a lot of crap. The piles of little brown nuggets started at the entrance of our driveway and continued every few feet, leading to the front steps, and then moving on to below our deck. When we cautiously rounded the corner, there he was. A young bull moose, staring at us sheepishly. And then he refused to leave! He doggedly stood firmly rooted on the shoveled path we created for the dog, defiantly dropping even more shiny nuggets.

I don’t know if he invited friends over for a kegger while the parents were away, or if he somehow did it all himself, but there are twenty-five (that’s 25, veinticinco, XXV) piles of scat littered around the cabin. Honest, I counted. And then there’s the ridiculous amount of huge yellow blobs marring the once pristine snow. Now, you’re probably wondering how he managed to produce all this waste. I’m sorry, I just can’t make myself document my tale of woe about what happened to all the trees I’ve lovingly nurtured over the years. Stinkin’ moose!

While having the opportunity to get up close and personal to the poop we were shoveling up, I got curious about the consistency. It’s perfectly formed, like chocolate covered almonds or giant cappuccino-flavored jelly beans (I said it looks like, not tastes like candy). But your mind just has to wonder what happens inside a moose cavity to produce something that’s admittedly kind of pretty.

Moose, which is Algonquin for “twig eater,” have a similar digestive system as a cow. They are ruminants, meaning they’re mammals who are able to acquire nutrients from plants by fermenting it in one part of their four-chambered stomach. Chewing their cud for up to eight hours a day to break down my decimated aspens and evergreens is all part of the process.

In the summer, moose need to eat thirty to forty pounds of vegetation a day. I’ve cleaned up moose poop then, and it’s a very different consistency than what’s lying around my property now. That’s because in the summer, moose eat wet leafy foliage, which causes the nuggets to soften and glom together. The scat comes out looking like a cow patty, and many people confuse it with bear scat. (Old joke: how can you tell the difference? Bear scat smells like pepper spray and has a little bell in it.) Seriously, bears are omnivores and have simpler digestive systems. When examining their scat, you’ll find more undigested stuff like berries, leaves, hair, etc.

I don’t have to tell locals that Grand Lake winters are long. Our moose will lose up to 25% of their body weight since food isn’t as plentiful—unless a certain lucky youngster spends his spring break at Casa de Kroepfl. Funny, I don’t remember inviting him to stay.

This article was originally published in The Boardwalk newspaper, Grand Lake, Colorado.

You Can’t Choose Your Family by Stephanie Kroepfl

Posted on March 5, 2017 by Jim Kroepfl

I come from a devout Catholic family, which means I have twenty-six first cousins on my mom’s side and almost as many on my dad’s. Given that, I consider myself a pretty good authority on how differently cousins can turn out. So when a friend in Columbine posted a picture of an American marten standing on his deck, I tried not to jump to conclusions about its disposition. The reason I say this is you may recall my previous articles about their weasel cousins, the otter and ermine. The highlights were that three otters tried to drown my neighbor’s Airedale terrier, which is how they kill their prey. And, ermine take over their latest meal’s burrow—and then decorates it with the unlucky animal’s fur and hide. Granted, they’re both adorable, but maybe not the kin you want to invite to Christmas dinner.

I’m happy to report that the American marten, also called a pine marten, doesn’t seem quite so . . . gruesome. They’re the only mustelid (family of 65 species of carnivorous mammals) that have semi-retractable claws. This enables them to lead an arboreal lifestyle in the trees as well as on the forest floor—they can even swim underwater. They often make their nests high in tree hollows or take over squirrel dens. They have fur on their soles to keep them warm, which creates a snowshoe effect that allows them to run atop the snow, and they burrow in the snow on chilly days.

As further proof of their versatility, they’re omnivores (they eat plants and meat). Their diet is based on voles (which only endears them to me more), snowshoe hares, small birds, fruits, conifer seeds, honey and even carrion if live prey is scarce. They’ll occasionally take a juvenile squirrel but they’re not as agile in the branches as adult squirrels and will usually leave them alone. And unlike the pine squirrel, pine martens help propagate forests since seeds pass through their gut intact. In fact, seeds have higher germination rates after, uhm, being processed compared to seeds that drop to the ground.

The American marten’s fur is shiny and luxuriant, resembling another of their many cousins, the sable. At the turn of the twentieth century, they were drastically depleted due to the fur trade. Their population has now stabilized and they’re not considered endangered, but deforestation due to us humans is always a threat. Like most states, it is legal in Colorado to capture them using live traps (only cage or box trap). Or, you can hunt them with a handheld bow, crossbow, handgun, rifle or shotgun – which given their cat-like size seems somewhat unproductive if you want to salvage any of their fur.

An article I read stated, “The marten is a rare animal that you’ll probably never see, save for paw prints in the snow.” Thanks to my quick acting friend for snapping this photo, which helps us all remember that you can’t judge someone’s character by what their family is like.

This article was originally published in The Boardwalk newspaper, Grand Lake, Colorado,