The Humble Dzäna

The Humble Dzäna

The Humble Dzäna

8 minute read –

When welcoming folks to the Yukon Wildlife Preserve, us interpreters in the Front Cabin often say something along the lines of “you’ll find 10 Yukon animals here,” referring to the ones in our care and pictured on our map. But of course, so many other animals call the Preserve home too. Like the tsäl (sik sik/gopher/arctic ground squirrel) who are the 11th unofficial species that you can find above ground only in the spring and summer!

Another newer resident on the Preserve are the dzäna (muskrats). A mansion of a muskrat lodge has emerged in the moose pond over the past year and has remained visible even when covered by snow this winter! While guiding a bus tour recently, this seemling isolated home became the center of attention while we were looking for the elusive kanday (moose). The visitors and I mused “how many muskrats are in that thing?!” I did know a pair of muskrats had moved into the marsh a couple of years ago, and now maybe there’s a whole family living there hosting many parties (yes, I had to force that line so I can say that a group of muskrats are called a “party”). 

But while joking on my tour, I realised that I did not know much about this animal and this inspired me to dedicate some time to the humble muskrat.  

Muskrat copyright and photo credit: Derald-Lobay

Muskrats are often confused with tsà’ (beavers), and though they are very similar, they are not closely related at all. This is a neat example of convergent evolution: two animals may end up looking the same and acting in similar ways because of the shared environment that they live in. Both muskrats and beavers are semi-aquatic rodents, have water-resistant brown and sleek fur, build their lodges in shallow water or along the water’s edge, and forage on the surrounding plants.

When I told my partner that I was writing about muskrats, he made sure that I was including the story of muskrat’s heroic act. Growing up in Manitoba, we both learned about the special place the muskrat holds in Cree and Anishinaabe Creation stories.

Small details can vary with the storyteller but muskrat’s role remains the same. 

As written in his book Ojibway Heritage, elder Basil H. Johnston from Wasauksing First Nation begins the story with the Great Flood, where only the birds and water animals survived and Sky Woman came to rest on the back of a turtle. She asked the water animals to dive to the bottom and collect soil so that she can create land. Many animals – the loon, the mink, the beaver – dove down, down, down but none returned with soil. All seemed hopeless. Finally, the little muskrat softly said “I’ll go.” Everyone laughed as there was no way the tiny muskrat could make it to the bottom when all of the other animals had failed. Despite being ridiculed, the determined muskrat disappeared into the water and was gone for a long time. The animals and Sky Woman stared helplessly into the water until muskrat finally floated to the surface. Sky Woman lifted muskrat’s body onto the turtle and there, clutched tightly in muskrat’s paw, was a small clump of Earth. She took the Earth and spread it on the back of the turtle. The wind began to blow while Sky Woman and the animals danced together, spreading the Earth farther until it grew into Turtle Island. The animals celebrated and mourned together for without muskrat’s great sacrifice, Earth and all life would not exist. I personally like the story ending with Sky Woman breathing life back into muskrat’s little body so that he can celebrate too.

A traditional Anishinabe inspired Painting by: Carl Ray (1943 – 1979) of a muskrat. The Muskrat reminds us to be open to the creative possibilities of living in balance with Creation.

This story intertwines many moral and ethical values tied together with ecological knowledge. Muskrats are indeed very small, weighing only 2-to-4 pounds compared to the much larger 40-to-70 pound beavers. They are incredible swimmers and can dive underwater for 15-20 minutes at a time. When they dive, their heart rate slows and their body temperature plummets to help them conserve oxygen. Small hairs between their toes and their long, rat-like tail helps to propel them through the water. These are all helpful adaptations when you need to forage for plants and food all winter since muskrats do not store food like beavers. It’s no wonder that the small but mighty muskrat could swim to the bottom of the water with all of these traits.

Instead of building dams and lodges made from felling trees like beavers, muskrats build their lodge homes and feeding huts (called push-ups) out of plants like cattails, sedges, and reeds, packed together with mud. As in the story, their front paws are small with long claws for digging and holding building material, and their homes are shaped like the ball of Earth they held on to.

a brown blob of earth pushes up through the snowy icy surface of the moose habitat pond where a muskrat makes its home. Photo Credit; Rebecca Carter.

A brown blob of earth pushes up through the snowy icy surface of the moose habitat pond where a muskrat family makes its home. Photo Credit: Rebecca Carter.

In the winter, you may see push-ups on frozen ponds and lakes. When the water begins to freeze, muskrats will chew a hole in the ice and push up clumps of material, creating an enclosed and insulated resting hut on top of the ice. Like ice fishing shacks on a lake, muskrats can pop out of the water and take a break from swimming long distances, have some lunch and take a breather all while staying protected from the harsh elements and predators.

These push-ups are also fast frozen piles of fresh plants that offer higher levels of protein, nitrogen, and other nutrients that are lacking in the low quality winter plants. These push-ups are great food sources for caribou, moose and bison and may help them make it through the winter with a nutrient boost. In the summer, waterfowl and marsh birds lounge and nest on the lodges, while snakes and reptiles use the muskrat tunnels and homes for places to rest and thermoregulate. I can’t help but think of muskrat’s desire and determination to help collect Earth as a parallel to the muskrat’s push-ups and lodges for providing food and shelter for other animals throughout the year.

a brown blob of earth pushes up through the snowy icy surface of the moose habitat pond where a muskrat makes its home. Photo Credit; Rebecca Carter.

Fall, muskrat pushup with birds soaring above the pushup. Photo credit: Britt Forsythe.

Muskrats are also resilient and adaptable. They can have 2-3 litters per year with an average of 6 kits per litter making their population relatively resistant to disease, predation pressures, and they can survive through drought years by eating a variety of foods and getting water from the plants. Despite this resilience, there is emerging evidence that muskrat populations are declining across North America. The exact cause remains unclear for these declines, but a loss of critical wetland habitats and the connectivity between wetlands may have a large impact on populations.

I read this quote from elder Benton Banai that is fitting here:

 “No matter that marshes have been drained and their homes destroyed in the name of progress, the muskrats continue to grow and multiply. The Creator has made it so muskrats will always be with us because of the sacrifice that our little brother made for all of us many years ago when the Earth was covered with water.”

Muskrats play such an important role in the ecology of wetlands, Indigenous cultures and economic importance for trappers that we cannot overlook the muskrats and their habitat needs. One of the values that we can learn from the Creation story is that humans and animals are interconnected and living together harmoniously ensures the survival of all. 

Pushup from a muskrat in the Preserve's Moose Pond with a wide view of the land including snowy mountains and boreal forest. Photo Credit; Rebecca Carter.

From the muskrat, we can learn to be determined and courageous when faced with a seemingly impossible task, to cooperate and help one another, to do acts not for the recognition but because it is the right thing to do, and to honour and respect all creatures regardless of their size. So the next time you visit the Wildlife Preserve, see if you could spot the small, humble, determined dzäna in the marsh. We can and do have a lot to learn from our wildlife companions.

References

Department of Environment. 2024. Common Muskrat. Yukon Government, Department of Enivronment. https://yukon.ca/en/common-muskrat

Errington, P.L. 1939. Reaction of muskrat populations to drought. Ecology, 20(2): 168-186. 

Hindle, A.G., et al. 2006. Body cooling and the diving capabilities of muskrats (Ondatra zibethicus) A test of the adaptive hypothermia hypothesis. Comparative Biochemistry and Physiology, 114: 232-241. https://sci-hub.se/10.1016/j.cbpa.2006.03.001 

Hinterland Who’s Who. 1986. Muskrat. Environment and Climate Change Canada, Canadian Wildlife Federation. https://www.hww.ca/en/wildlife/mammals/muskrat.html

Jung, T.S., Stotyn, S.A., and Larter, N.C. 2019. Freezer meals: comparative value of muskrat (Ondatra zibethicus) push-ups as late-winter forage for a northern ungulate. European Journal of Wildlife Research, 65:61.https://doi.org/10.1007/s10344-019-1301-7

MacGregor, D. 2013. Teachings from the Muskrat. Muskrat Magazine. https://muskratmagazine.com/teachings-from-the-muskrat/

Sadowski, C., & Bowman, J. 2021. Historical surveys reveal a long-term decline in muskrat populations. Ecology and Evolution, 11(12): 7557-7568. https://doi.org/10.1002/ece3.7588

Yukon Native Language Centre. 2002. Southern Tutchone Noun Dictionary. Retrieved from: https://ynlc.ca/

Rebecca Carter

Rebecca Carter

Senior Wildlife Interpreter

Rebecca joined the Wildlife Preserve in the summer of 2020 after moving from Manitoba to the beautiful and wild Yukon. Rebecca earned a degree in Biology with honours from the University of Winnipeg studying behaviour in mule deer (one of her top 20 favourite animals.. it’s hard to choose!). She loves connecting with others through nature and sharing stories and knowledge about the animals at the preserve with visitors.

867-456-7400
rebecca@yukonwildlife.ca

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A Tale of Chasing the Sun and Losing the Clock

A Tale of Chasing the Sun and Losing the Clock

A Tale of Chasing the Sun and Losing the Clock

6 min read – this is a crosspost from Avery’s website Snail Tales.

I think about how my first few months living in the Yukon feel like the drawn-out, long sunrises and sunsets up here. They are often multicoloured, with bright hues and dark contrasts, and they seem to last ages. This is, apparently, all because of the Earth’s tilt and rotation. I was asking everyone about this my first few weeks here. I needed to understand why the sun seems to take longer to rise, fall and hover at the horizon compared to anywhere I’ve ever been. Turns out when you’re farther north, the sun takes a much shallower angle as it rises and sets! Instead of popping straight up and down like it does near the equator, it moves more horizontally across the sky.

sunrise and mountain goat cliff. The skie is illuminating pink as the slow winter sunrise occurs.

Mountain goat cliff illumiated pink in the long winter sunrise. Photo credit: Jake Paleczny.

This makes the transition between night and day stretch out longer. Someone said to me, “Think of it like a ball rolling up and over a hill—if it goes straight up and down, it’s quick, but if it follows a more gradual slope, it takes longer. That’s basically what the sun is doing near the poles.” I’m thinking of making an animation of this to try to make more sense of it physically. This effect gets even more extreme as you go farther north. It’s why there is midnight sun near the summer solstice, and in winter, it gives us the long, drawn-out sunrises and sunsets that I have cherished and gawked at almost every day since I moved up. The territory is a mix of extremes: light and darkness, with a lot of expansive grey and blue sky in between. It’s 10am as I write this and the clouds are pink with sunrise.

drawing by Avery of her  cabin home in the boreal forest.

Drawing by Avery Elias. The cabin I rent in the Boreal Forest. 

Sometimes I feel like time is flying and I can’t seem to muster the energy to chase it. But just as the sun moves differently up here, my sense of time has changed too. The other day I was working a shift at the Yukon Wildlife Preserve and I asked my coworkers what they think about our relationship to time versus other animal’s relationship with it. 

We got into a discussion about how time in the sense of minutes and hours is an abstract human-constructed concept. We are the only animals that track time like this. Every other animal seems to be deeply connected to their internal clocks and their circadian rhythms.

Humans are obsessed with time and trying to name it; we think we can control it, track it, chase it, kill it, steal it, make it and run out of it. The more time I spend with the wildlife in the Yukon, the more absurd and ridiculous these ideas become.

Illustration showing how we, humans think of time. By Avery Elias.

Illustration by Avery showing our connection with time. 

The sun lingering on the horizon up here sometimes gives me the illusion of time stretching. I’ve started to feel that slowness elsewhere, like when I’m alone observing the musk ox. Here’s what I wrote in my journal one morning:

Being around the musk ox, I leave my personal human sense of clock time. I feel something different. I wonder if it is “evolutionary time”. The musk ox are an ancient species — they are considered ice age survivors. I learned today that they are one of the oldest surviving large herbivores on Earth. I am pulled into the physical and spiritual around them. Maybe that’s a different place to be from the linear, the daily clock we all measure our “own” minutes, hours, days, weeks, years by. The musk ox is not keeping track of time in this way. They use their internal clocks. All the animals here do.

Muskox bulls in winter at the Preserve. photo credit Avery Elias.
They never let me get too close, which is probably best. The musk ox are able to run up to 60km/hour and can be an aggressive species.

 

After the discussion with my coworkers, I ponder this difference between the way we think of time and the relationship the musk ox have with it. Is it a contributor to the illusion of separation we’ve created between us and the wildlife? Between human beings and the natural world? It only took a few shifts working at the Yukon Wildlife Preserve to realize I was sensing something powerful and healing about the places I’ve been spending time in— the preserve, the North, and my cabin in the Boreal forest*.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the illusion I had been living under— the idea that we are separate from the animals and the wild. Far away in our cities, being raised to believe that humans are the centre of everything. We’ve elevated ourselves but we are simply part of nature like the rest of these animals. It feels silly to have to even state this and maybe many of you already understand it. But I grew up in a big city and it’s taken me living in a forest, in a territory with one of the lowest population densities in the world to really make some sense of it.

*The boreal forest, also known as the snow forest, is a biome characterized by snowy winters and freezing temperatures. It’s the world’s largest land biome. This forest converts carbon dioxide into oxygen on a massive scale (the air is very good up here ☺ ). The snow stays on the ground for many, many months.

 

Muskox bulls in winter at the Preserve. photo credit Avery Elias.
A quote I wrote in a sketchbook that feels fitting.

 

 

Learning from the wild

I heard a term recently: Ecological Identity. It bears the questions: Who are we in relation to nature? How do we fit with what’s around us? I wrote that the musk ox are considered ice age survivors. When I give my tours to visitors at the preserve, people are often shocked and intrigued by this information. I like to remind them that we as homo sapiens are also ice age survivors! Multiple ice ages* in fact: at least two in the last 200,000 years. 

Yet our evolutionary paths have remarkably diverged. The lives of the musk ox are still closely attuned to the rhythms of nature, as they were during the ice age. When I’m around them, it feels evident that they are living in harmony with their surroundings. I sense that they are in a deep state of attention. In a way, are they living in the timeless? We’ve created cities and systems that can obscure the natural rhythms of day and night, the seasons, and the ecosystems around us. These differences highlight not just how far we’ve come, but also how much we might still learn from the creatures who remain deeply connected to this earth we share. The only time I’ve been able to feel this kind of harmony for an extended period is when I’m on long camping trips or boat rides where I feel almost lost in the sea. It makes me think that my over-structured, calendar relationship with time is like a surface-level experience of life. Like the restless, choppy waves at the surface of the ocean.

The musk ox relationship with time might be more like the water deep below the surface, where things appear calm and more still. In a way, I feel consoled by the lesson of the musk ox on this day. If the Yukon’s light has changed how I see time, the musk ox has helped how I feel it.

 *When people say “the last ice age”, they’re usually referring to the last glacial period (that ended around 10,000 years ago), when ice sheets covered much more of the planet. I recently learned from my coworker at the preserve, Danial, that scientifically speaking, we’re technically still living in an ice age since there is permanent ice at the poles. What we’re in now is an interglacial period, meaning a warmer phase within an ongoing ice age. If things followed the natural cycle, we’d eventually head back into a glacial period, but human-driven climate change is disrupting that pattern.

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Illustrations by Avery of a muskox and a chinook salmon.
There are endless things I love about the musk ox, most importantly their horns in the shape of moustaches.

 

 

 

Anywho, that’s all the *time* I have for today. Maybe time isn’t something to track, chase, or control. Maybe, like the musk ox and the Yukon sun, it’s something to settle into.

Remember: there’s no time like the present!

I would love to hear any thoughts that are sparked from reading or tales of your own. There’s a comment section below.

 

Thanks for taking the scenic route with me,

Avery Elias

Avery Elias

She/Her - Wildlife Interpreter

Avery’s journey to the Yukon Wildlife Preserve began during a vacation in August 2024, when she was living in Vancouver and looking for a quieter, wilder life. Having spent the past two summers on farms in Oregon and the Vancouver area, Avery was drawn to the wild beauty and close-knit community of the Yukon. Now, she’s excited to join the team as a wildlife interpreter. Outside the preserve, Avery works as an illustrator, animator, painter, and digital designer, collaborating with local businesses and pursuing her own creative projects.

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The Curious Case of Dewlaps: Moose and Their Underappreciated and Mysterious Neck Accessories

The Curious Case of Dewlaps: Moose and Their Underappreciated and Mysterious Neck Accessories

The Curious Case of Dewlaps: Moose and Their Underappreciated and Mysterious Neck Accessories

10 minute read

When you think of a moose, you might picture an iconic Canadian creature with long legs, a majestic set of antlers, and the undeniable air of someone who really doesn’t care about traffic. What might not come immediately to mind is the subtle yet striking neck accessory that moose wear with… well, little to no fanfare: the dewlap. Yes, that’s right—moose, with their immense size and serene grace, sport a fleshy flap of skin dangling beneath their throat.

If you’ve ever had the privilege (or slight anxiety) of encountering a moose here at the Yukon Wildlife Preserve, or on a cross-country road trip, you’ve maybe noticed this particular feature. But what is it, and why does it exist? Let’s explore this underappreciated anatomical feature with a mix of scientific curiosity and the lighthearted humor it deserves.

What is a Dewlap, Anyway?

A dewlap is essentially a flap of skin that hangs from the neck, or throat of an animal and while it may seem like just an odd fashion statement, it often serves practical purposes. Dewlaps appear in all kinds of animals—like lizards, cows, chickens, rabbits, and yes, moose. Depending on the species, dewlaps help with everything from sexual selection, to staying cool to general communication. In moose, the dewlap isn’t just a bizarre fashion accessory, it’s also a multi-purpose tool in their biological toolkit – we think!

Watson on the left, Marsh on the right. 2023-making Watson 4 years old and Marsh 2 years old in this photo. Notice the dewlap difference?

Fun Fact: a dewlap on a moose is also called a bell. If you’re a bird, that fold of skin is called a wattle. For rabbits, dewlaps are basically nature’s way of saying, “Congrats, you’re all grown up now!” Female rabbits flaunt these fluffy neck pillows as a sign of sexual maturity. Later, when they have babies, they even pluck the thicker fur grown here to line the nest. Birds and reptiles, on the other hand, can take it up a notch with their flashy neck frills—bright, colorful, and often retractable like the world’s fanciest pop-up tent, perfect for showing off in romantic or territorial drama. 

 

 

Sitana ponticeriana. Photo by Niranjan Sant from Lizards in an Evolutionary Tree. 

But when it comes to ungulates, like moose, their dewlaps remain a mystery. It’s the unsolved cold case of the animal kingdom, stubbornly dodging scientific scrutiny. Nature can be funny like that sometimes.

Moose Practical Fashion: Is It About to Take Off?

Let’s address the most important question right off the bat: Do moose know they’re rocking a dewlap? Probably not. But if they did, we imagine it would make them feel pretty cool—like the one guest at a party with a trendy outfit no one else can pull off.  In the moose world, the dewlap is one of those things you don’t really see in everyday fashion. While antlers get all the glory in the animal kingdom, these enigmatic ornaments quietly steal the show in these hoofed animals. 

Moose, who roam the colder reaches of North America, use their dewlaps to help cool off in warmer weather. Male and female moose have dewlaps though their sizes differ considerably with, naturally, the male dewlap being larger than the females. The loose skin beneath their throat appears to expand and contract, and become more or less furry based on seasons which would help release heat from their bodies. This means that on a hot Yukon day (don’t worry, we don’t have too many of those), the dewlap might help prevent a moose from overheating as they browse lazily in the wild.

Moose September 2013 - Justine Benjamin. Cow and bull moose in rut season.

This statement might be contested by research from ungulates evaluated from Bro-Jørgensen given the need to thermoregulate (dissipate heat) is rather limited when you live in a more predominantly cold-climate than comparatively the eland antelopes of South Africa. Large ungulates like bison, elk, and yak do not present this caruncle; they may have evolved alternative, behavioural, cooling mechanisms that are less ‘cool looking’! But, wait, what about caribou? Technically, they fall under the 400kg threshold of the study and live in a cold climate and though they (males particularly) seem to rock the dewlap… sort of, theirs is more of a budget-friendly version compared to the moose’s deluxe mode.

(We’ll admit we’re pretty perplexed that both moose and caribou have flappy neck skin but wouldn’t be considered in the list of animals with evolutionary cooling mechanisms as they both are amazing swimmers, spending a lot of time in water and thus being able to cool themselves via this methods—alas we will stick to moose necks!)  We appreciate that Bro-Jørgensen recognizes investigations into ungulate dewlap purposes has been left largely unexplored and for some reason, lizards have stolen all the scientists’ attention. 

Dewlaps and Courtship: The Moose Dating Scene

If you thought moose were all about antlers for impressing mates, think again. Dewlaps are also, or alternatively to thermoregulation, thought to be involved in courtship. During mating season, male moose seem to have enlarged dewlaps to make themselves appear more impressive. After all, what’s a little extra neck real estate if it helps you woo the ladies? This trait can also be found in male leopards—alongside aging the dewlap grows, similar to a lion’s mane thickening, scientists believe this growth helps in intra and inter-specific interactions—the important sexual selection kinds of interactions for attracting mates and staving off competitors.

 

 

Moose Bull Watson in Summer 2024 and Winter 2024 show a side view of the animal and its dewlap. It appears larger by possibly being more hairy in the winter for protection of the extra skin. In summer lighter and able to dissipate heat like its less hair covered ears in the summer.

In some species (like lizards), males will flare their dewlaps out to signal dominance or interest in a mate. While moose don’t exactly go full “show-off” mode with their dewlaps, the extra skin could play a role in their mating rituals. After all, being a moose isn’t all about looking tough with those antlers—it’s also about managing the subtler art of, well, neck presentation. 

These photos from young to old, left to right, are of Watson. We see from photos, the size of the dewlap appears to become larger over time. Bro-Jørgensen also explores the idea of the dewlap (in elands) being a detterent to predators as the side view makes the animal look larger and perhaps more intimidating. This would align with mature, genetically inclined animals having a larger dewlap. Though this was taken further and scarring on the dewlap was tested, exploring its advantages or disadvantages to protecting the common area of attack on prey by predators in some inter-species interactions.

A “Dewlap-umentary” Moment

Imagine a scene straight out of a nature documentary: A lone moose stands amidst the wild, its dewlap gently swaying in the wind as it scans the horizon. It’s a thing of beauty, really. But then, a rival moose appears on the scene—let the neck flap show begin! Not so much behaviour present in ungulates, as seen in lizards and birds, but the moose may posture, showing off their large body size and then bam – side view of an impressive neck dangle and their rival runs away in fear – perhaps a convincing illusion.

Winter Snow and two moose bull October 2020 29 YWP Lindsay Caskenette

Wrapping It Up: A Love Letter to the Dewlap

So, the next time you visit the Yukon Wildlife Preserve and you catch sight of a moose strolling majestically past, don’t just look up at the antlers or marvel at their towering size. Look down (or, more accurately, look to the side) and take a moment to appreciate the dewlap. Despite all the brainpower spent pondering this, no one really knows why moose have dewlaps. Is it a fashion statement? A built-in scarf for chilly mornings? Who knows!

moose in snow . The bull shows off his impressive size, antlers and dewlap.  Jake Paleczny.

Since both male and female moose have them and they don’t seem to offer any major survival or dating perks, scientists think basically, ungulates got their dewlaps through evolutionary peer pressure, but not the same kind as lizards and birds. While birds and lizards are out there with their flashy, look-at-me neck bling for dating or drama, ungulates might’ve evolved their dewlaps for totally different reasons—like a mysterious club no one’s quite figured out yet. The dewlap might just be a leftover from moose ancestors—like a trendy accessory that’s fallen out of style but still hangs around (sciencey talk calls this a vestigial trait).

Moose watson Jan 22YWP winter L.Caskenette dewlap swing - would this intimidate or attract you - if of course you were a moose?

In the world of wildlife, the moose’s dewlap is mysterious, beautiful, and—if we’re being honest—just a little bit stylish. Who knew that this flappy neck skin would be so fascinating? Certainly not us. But we’re glad we found out. Wait, what exactly did we find out!?

Resources:

Bro-Jørgensen, J. Evolution of the ungulate dewlap: thermoregulation rather than sexual selection or predator deterrence?Front Zool 13, 33 (2016). https://doi.org/10.1186/s12983-016-0165-x

Baeckens, Simon et al. “The brown anole dewlap revisited: do predation pressure, sexual selection, and species recognition shape among-population signal diversity?.” PeerJ vol. 6 e4722. 8 May. 2018, doi:10.7717/peerj.4722

Jonathan Losos. How Many Times have lizard Dewlaps Evolved? August 12, 2011.

Photo credits: L.Caskenette, J.Benjamine, J.Paleczny, M. Mark., (unless otherwise noted).

 

Lindsay Caskenette

Lindsay Caskenette

Manager Visitor Services

Lindsay joined the Wildlife Preserve team March 2014. Originally from Ontario, she came to the Yukon in search of new adventures and new career challenges. Lindsay holds a degree in Environmental Studies with honours from Wilfrid Laurier University and brings with her a strong passion for sharing what nature, animals, and the environment can teach us.

867-456-7400
Lindsay@yukonwildlife.ca

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An Impertinent Question – What is the dumbest animal on the Preserve?

An Impertinent Question – What is the dumbest animal on the Preserve?

An Impertinent Question – What is the dumbest animal on the Preserve?

3 min read – Cover photo credit Mark Newman.

The guest on my bus tour with the British accent began his comment, ‘this is an impertinent question, so you don’t have to answer it…

‘Oh’? I thought,

Winter Guided bus tour 2024L.Caskenette YWP black and white capture. A wildlife interpreter shares the Preserve with two guests through a one-of-a-kind experience of wildlife viewing. A must do while in the Yukon.

‘What is the dumbest animal on the Preserve?’ he continued.

We were at the Thinhorn rams with their big curly horns, and as if on cue, one of the older ones turned to us and gave us the most goggle-eyed dumbest look you could imagine. Everyone laughed and I didn’t have to answer.

Dall’s Sheep Ram making a funny face but normal for a sheep sensing the air. Photo credit Mark Newman.

But how about we flip that question and ask instead, ‘What is the smartest animal on the Preserve?’ 

First, one might ask, what is intelligence?  One definition of intelligence is the ability to adapt to new situations and to learn from experience. However, a little bit of research reveals that we can’t really answer which species is more intelligent than another. Animals are well suited to what they need for survival through instinct and physical adaptations, (instinct is behaviour oriented and is defined as; ‘an inborn impulse or motivation to action typically performed in response to specific external stimuli’. Today instinct is generally described as a stereotyped, apparently unlearned, genetically determined behaviour pattern. While we can identify faster learners and slower learners within a species we can’t readily compare the intelligence of different species. Personally, I cannot dam up a creek using mud and sticks and my bare hands but does that mean I am dumber than a beaver. I hope not.

Personally, I cannot dam up a creek using mud and sticks and my bare hands but does that mean I am dumber than a beaver. I hope not.

 

We have learned that intelligence tests involving people can be culturally biased. Devising tests that try to fairly compare different animal species is even harder. In one test the animal subjects were required to learn a sequence of visual cues to receive a food reward. Monkeys learned quite quickly, rats more slowly. But rats have poor eyesight and when the cues were changed from visual to scented the rats learned as fast as the monkeys.

Even trying to compare dogs to captive wolves is problematic as a dog’s primary problem-solving tool is us. Ball rolls under the couch, get your human. Hungry, get your human. Need to go outside, get your human and so on.

Additionally, most animals have a good amount of persistence, especially when searching for  food. Hence the annual warnings from the conservation officers about the danger of having attractants in our yards in regarding bears. If, after weeks of trying, the fox finally manages to break into the hen house, is that persistence or intelligence or a combination of both? A captive wolf in a sanctuary during an experiment to test methods of non-lethal predator control challenged an electrified barrier 800 times! Now that’s persistence.

And if a captive muskox spends hours or even days ramming his boss (the flat bit of thick horn across his forehead) into a welded steel industrial gate separating him from the female muskox until it breaks; that is certainly persistent but is it intelligent? Nevertheless, the gates at the Preserve between the male and female muskox have been reinforced.

It is not difficult to suggest that predators probably have the most advanced ability to learn since their meals tend to run away and hide. They must continually adapt to fluid situations in order to eat. But the most amazing example of non-human learning I have run across is reported by Bernd Heinrich, author of, Ravens in Winter’, where he presented four groups of ravens with a puzzle consisting of pieces of meat hanging from strings.  One of the wild ravens, without having watched anyone else’s attempts, after pondering the problem for a period of time, flew straight to a perch above a hanging piece of meat, pulled the string up, put his foot on it to hold the slack and repeated the sequence until he had reeled in the piece of meat. First try.  Read the full account here

So, while they are not part of the Preserve’s collection, there are certainly ravens on the Preserve and they get my vote as smartest.

Pete Neilson

Pete Neilson

Wildlife Interpreter

'Sir' Pete grew up in suburban Southern Ontario north of Toronto. In the late 80's, he followed the lure of London and Service to the Yukon. 'Sir' Pete has lived off grid in the Yukon all along from a wall tent and later a tepee in his earlier years and now a small cabin near Twin lakes. He guided wilderness canoe trips many years in the 90's and early 2000's and got his first sled dog in ’91; currently he has 15 dogs for recreational mushing. 'Sir' Pete enjoys being at home or out with his dogs as much as he can.

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Carmacks Juvenile Bald Eagle Recovery

Carmacks Juvenile Bald Eagle Recovery

Carmacks Juvenile Bald Eagle Recovery

2.5 minute read – 

On November 27th another juvenile bald eagle made it way back to the wild, eagerly. A public release occurred with a very small group helping send it off. 

mature bald eagle in rehabilitation

On November 9th, A juvenile bald eagle was found struggling, entangled in barbed wire fencing in Carmacks. It was found thanks to Bob’s dogs, who alerted him of the eagle stuck. Bob is a resident of Carmacks and would not have noticed the bird, behind a large shed, had it not been for his dogs. He managed to remove the bird from the fencing. He dropped to the ground and wasn’t flying away after free. Bob approached it again and noticed it was shivering and lethargic. 

Old crow bald eagle upon arrival and admittance into the Wildlife Rehabilitation Centre at the Preserve. May 10th. Photo credit L.Caskenette

Bob called local Conservation Officer, Blake Vandecamp who eventually had the bird brought into care of the Wildlife Preserve’s Wildlife Rehabilitation Centre. 

Old crow bald eagle upon arrival and admittance into the Wildlife Rehabilitation Centre at the Preserve. May 10th. Photo credit L.Caskenette

The eagle weighed only 4kg and had some minor laceration injury to the wing and some swelling in the feet (likely due to the talons being caught up in the fencing. Like the Dawson City eagle, it was very happy to eat, and successfully captured live quail. Shortly before release the bird weighed 5.2kg. 

The choice to release it more locally was for a few reasons, including it being a juvenile and underweight possibly indicating unsuccessful hunting in the area it was found. While we generally try to rerelease in the location found, during winter we have elected to release where there are other known successful groups of eagles. 

On November 27th, 2024, at 5.2kg in weight and less than a month in our care, the juvenile bald eagle was returned to the wild, at Chasàn Chùa (McIntyre Creek). Further, transport of an eagle long distances can be challenging due to limited personal to arrange this and it can add additional stress to the bird that we want to avoid if possible. While we are helping the animal while in our care, the animal doesn’t necessarily see it this way and it can be a stressful time. Just consider how you feel when you’re out of your comfort zone, your regular routines interrupted and you’re in an unfamiliar place while also  possibly sick or injured. 

Several groups of bald eagle, mostly mature but a few immature are seen right near the release location. 📸L.Caskenette

Help us get them back on their wings. We could use your help. If you are able to support the care of these two animals, please consider donating. Every contribution makes a difference and as a non-profit charitable organization, you can receive a charitable tax receipt for your support. 

Photo credit: L. Caskenette

Lindsay Caskenette

Lindsay Caskenette

Manager Visitor Services

Lindsay joined the Wildlife Preserve team March 2014. Originally from Ontario, she came to the Yukon in search of new adventures and new career challenges. Lindsay holds a degree in Environmental Studies with honours from Wilfrid Laurier University and brings with her a strong passion for sharing what nature, animals, and the environment can teach us.

867-456-7400
Lindsay@yukonwildlife.ca

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