The World Under the Snow

The World Under the Snow

blog

by Pete Neilson | Mar 25, 2026 | 0 comments

2 minute read -

After Whitehorse’s snowiest December on record along with a stretch of record-breaking cold (with temperatures dipping as low as -50°C across much of the Yukon) a person might wonder how animals get through it all. Even now, as of the end of March, all of the Yukon still sits under feet of snow.

Many bird species migrate, bears and ground squirrels hibernate, those that winter on top of the snow grow thick winter coats for extra insulation but what about the tiny animals like mice, voles and shrews?
Mice, voles and shrews cannot hibernate as their bodies are too small to retain heat without eating constantly. Shrews, small insect eating mammals, are especially vulnerable; their metabolism is so high they potentially need to consume as much as 3 times their body weight\day to survive. However, they have also evolved a very unique strategy; they actually shrink their body size, including brain and internal organs, in order to require less energy. 

We often hear the phrase ‘a blanket of snow’. Well does it really act as a blanket? Yes. Snow is a good insulator. Once snow depth reaches 6 inches or more it creates a warmer, more humid and wind free environment right at ground level. The temperature remains close to 0C, (32F) all winter. Fluffy, fresh snow (containing lots of trapped air) insulates better then icy or compacted snow. An old timer winter travel tip is to warm your feet by sitting with them under the snow at rest stops or while you eat.

Squirrel prints lead to and from a hole in the snow. Beneath lies a fallen tree, creating a haven for small mammals.

Technically this zone under the snow is called the subnivean zone (sub=under, nivean=snow). This world under the snow provides a more stable environment than up at the surface, warmth from the ground helps crystallize the snow creating a small space right at ground level where the smaller critters can live during winter. Mice and voles store food (seeds, berries etc.), often making nests near their food caches living eating and sleeping under the snow. They also create a network of tunnels to move about and search for yet more food.

Chipmunks are a special case. They spend the winter in underground burrows, where they store large amounts of food to last them through the winter but they do not actually hibernate. They enter what is known as torpor, a state much like hibernation, but where they wake up every few days or weeks to eat and relive themselves before returning to torpor. On a very warm sunny winter day you may even see them briefly out on top of the snow. 

Red squirrels store food under the snow and dig down to get at it, but they don’t live under it. They create large middens of seed cones from pine and spruce during fall at the base of trees for their winter food. They also hide mushrooms in the branches of trees. They sleep in nests of dried grasses woven into large balls up in the trees.

The photos on the left and right demonstrate squirrel middens. The photo in the middle shows squirrel prints in the snow.

Both photos on the left show places where Snowshoe Hare have bed down. Photos on the right show a Snowshoe Hare and their prints.

Snowshoe hares spend their entire lives above the ground. Their large furry feet let them move easily across the snow and their white fur helps hide them from predators. They will burrow down under the snow a short way to feed on dry grasses from fall and snuggle down into the snow against a tree trunk to keep warm during colder weather.

In very cold weather grouse and ptarmigan access the world under the snow to stay warm. Grouse by flying straight into the snow cover, ptarmigan burrowing or flying into snowbanks up to a foot, sometimes in groups, creating sheltered roosts to last out the storm or the severe cold.

Predators such as foxes, coyotes, weasels and owls hunt the little ones under the snow. Weasels enter the tunnels directly to hunt, the others use their sharp hearing, listening for rustling noises as the ones under the snow scurry about, before pouncing on them.

Photos above (taken at night) show tiny mouse prints leading from one snowy hideaway to another.

So next time the snow is sifting softly down as you gaze out the window, recall there are actually two worlds out there, one on top and one under the snow.

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.

Explore by Category

Explore by Author

I Have to Sell!

I Have to Sell!

blog

This article was made possible thanks to support from the Yukon 125 Fund. Learn the incredible history of the Yukon Wildlife Preserve, and Yukon Game Farm from the people of the past through this series of articles.

Danny Nowlan is one of Yukon’s colourful, and at times, notorious characters. He was a polarizing figure who cared deeply for animals and connecting them to kids. He was also the subject of one of Yukon’s most expensive trials ever. His work on the Yukon Game Farm would eventually result in the creation of the Yukon Wildlife Preserve. That is a legacy that is still experienced by many Yukoners – although many of the stories are not known or well understood. 

The stories of Danny Nowlan are important threads that are woven through the tapestry of Yukon’s recent history. This project gives us the opportunity to capture and share this history before its lost. This includes the opportunity to celebrate the positive lasting legacy and to learn about and grapple with the challenging aspects of this legacy. 

In 2023 historian Sally Robertson collected oral histories from more than a dozen people who knew Danny. Out of this work, Sally wrote a series of stories about Danny and his adventures.

(9 minute read)

Danny and Erika Nowlan had a dream, and the Yukon Game Farm was established in the mid-1960s. Danny had to struggle several times over the years to keep the Yukon Game Farm operating. It was never profitable until the falcon breeding program was in place. Until 1990, the Nowlans were in business to raise breeding stock and sell young animals to international zoos and wildlife farms. In the case of birds of prey, their market was falconers wherever they happened to live. A Dall’s sheep ram might occasionally bring $2,000 and a trained gyrfalcon might be sold for $13,000, but there were many animals on the Farm, and they all needed care and a constant supply of huge quantities of food.  

Danny considered selling the Yukon Game Farm in the 1970s, when it seemed there would be never-ending bank loans. This was a time when Danny had close friendships with Yukon Game Branch employees, both guardians (Conservation Officers) and biologists. Government biologist Dave Mossop came to Danny with a plan to replenish Yukon’s wild stock of peregrine falcons. This was successful and, building on that, the Yukon Game Farm purchased gyrfalcons from the government and embarked on a successful breeding program.

Danny with Gyrfalcon

 

Danny needed even more money to establish the infrastructure and so, instead of selling the whole property he tried to subdivide and sell some lots along the Hot Springs Road. The government prohibited the sale and Danny’s attitude toward bureaucracy started changing towards antipathy. In the end, the approach of a government official elicited a yell of ‘cops’ from Danny and furious barking from his well-trained dogs. Followed by Danny’s famous laugh.

Prohibited from selling titled property, Danny instead sold 999-year leases. The government challenged this sale, and Danny won in court, so the parcels became titled land. Selling the road frontage kept him in business for a while, and also had the advantage of providing some protection for the animals. Before they were moved away from the road, there were incidents of animals being injured and one ram sheep with trophy-sized horns was killed.

In the mid-1980s, Danny, his second wife Uli, and well-respected biologist Dave Mossop were arrested and dragged into court on charges associated with the capture and illegally selling of endangered falcons to wealthy Saudi Arabians.  Operation Falcon was an undercover operation that started in the United States and reached into the Yukon. The Yukoners were judged not guilty of all charges, but the trial affected reputations and bank accounts. After the trial, the Game Farm’s elaborate infrastructure for breeding, raising, and replenishing wild stocks was in shambles, and Danny and Uli were no longer able to realize a profit from selling the birds they were so successful at raising.

In the 1980s, elk farming became a profitable business in Canada and Danny was quick to acquire a herd of about 300 animals. He and a number of other Yukoners became successful elk farmers before the Korean market for Canadian elk antlers and velvet collapsed. Some elk farmers in the United States changed their operations to hunt farms, places where hunters could pay to shoot animals. The only legal option in the Yukon was the sale of elk meat, and that was not part of Danny’s vision of an educational preserve to showcase Yukon wildlife. He told a friend that the day he had to sell a pound of elk meat was the day he was out of business.

Elmer-1st and Danny especially favorite elk bull came from Chuck and Clara from California 1983 visit.

 

Fortunately, just at this time the Nowlans were approached by Holland America to provide a tourist attraction for the company’s bus tours. This was in line with Danny’s vision. He needed to upgrade the roads and fences, and acquire more northern species, but the Nowlans were still able to sell animals and care for the injured and abandoned ones that were constantly being dropped off at their door.  This change in direction was formalized by a change in name; the Yukon Game Farm became the Yukon Wildlife Preserve in 1989.

Original logo created by Peregrine Nowlan in 1989 when the name change occured from Yukon Game Farm. Later when the facility was sold and run as a non-profit the name remained and the logo updated to its current version.

Around 2000, Danny was once again faced with the serious problem of keeping the operation in business. Animal sales were still an option, but there was a dawning awareness in Canada of spreading diseases affecting wildlife. Danny needed permits to move animals across borders, and these became increasingly difficult to obtain. The matter came to a head for the Yukon Wildlife Branch when public attention was drawn to one of Danny’s mountain goats that appeared on a steep hill across the North Klondike Highway from the sod farm. Government officials were worried about the transmission of disease from domestic animals to wildlife, and two escaped mountain goats could have travelled past agricultural farms containing domestic goats.

Danny was unable to recapture his animals, and the Yukon government’s Philip Merchant came to the rescue with a helicopter and a tranquilizer gun. The story of the capture is a harrowing tale for another time, but no animal (human or goat) was terribly injured, and Danny was presented with the bill. 

Danny said, “I want to go fishing” and he started looking for buyers. He could have made a lot of money by letting a developer divide the Game Farm into acreages. Many Yukoners were reluctant to see this happen, and the Friends of the Yukon Wildlife Preserve was established in 2002. The Board of Directors included successful businesspeople, educators, and wildlife biologists who recognized the Preserve’s potential economic, preservation, and educational worth to the Yukon. The society tried to raise funds to buy and operate the facility as a business, and they received support from individuals and potential partners.

In July 2003, the Yukon Fish and Wildlife Management Board wrote a letter to support a proposal where a not-for-profit society would run the facility with assistance from the Yukon Government, as long as the facility obtained accreditation from the Canadian Association of Zoos and Aquariums. The government, for many reasons, was reluctant to commit to any involvement at that time, and the Board of Directors dissolved the Friends of the Yukon Wildlife Preserve association in August 2003.

The public facing entrance to the Yukon Wildlife Preserve. Photo Rebecca August 2004.

There are many opinions about why the government persuaded a number of the original Friends and others to form an operating society, and then purchased the Yukon Game Farm in April 2004. Danny talked to the media and there was considerable public pressure in support of the sale. It was, and remains, a controversial decision especially for those opposed to seeing wildlife in pens. However, the Yukon Wildlife Preserve is a delight for children of all ages, and the expansive habitats created by Danny Nowlan make the residents very happy.

About his ability to get things done, Wendy Brassard says Danny would get these ideas and he wouldn't abandon them. He wouldn't just let them die or turn away from them. He'd think about it, he'd read because there was no Internet back then, he'd make phone calls, and the next thing you know, everything's changed. And he just kept evolving. He was such a good example of ingenuity and resourcefulness, and never say die. Just if you think it's right and it's going to work and it's a good thing? Do it.” David Smiley says Danny was an amazing character; that guy was different. Both good and bad. He had a rough side and he had a Grade 3 education. But he could develop a plan that somebody from a university would have trouble figuring out the nuances. He was a good planner. Randy Hallock concluded that Danny was interesting and always full of ideas. He just built the place and not much could stop him. He had ideas, and he made them work. People telling him ‘no’ just made him that much more driven. 

Minister Dixon, Department of Environment, Yukon Government and YWPOS board member Bill Klasson.
Photo taken 2013 on the signing of a 5 year agreement.

David Mossop is involved with the Game Farm in its current form as the Yukon Wildlife Preserve. He says it's interesting that all these years later, they haven't changed anything. It's basically exactly as Danny and Erika envisioned it – except brought to fruition a lot more. Their idea was to create something where the children of the Yukon could come and see the creatures that live here. And that's basically what happened.

The memories that were collected during this oral history project speak to the impact that Danny had on so many friends, kids, and animals - and the Nowlans’ legacy remains intact for Yukoners and Yukon visitors. We think Erika would be proud to see a fully realized wildlife preserve with its visitation of wide-eyed children. Uli Nowlan often visits the facility and keeps a watchful eye on the operation. Danny didn’t become an avid fisherman, but he did relax knowing his animals, and his legacy, were in good hands. 

• • •

On June 12, 2004, was the Grand Opening of the Preserve!

Danny Nowlan Life and Death - June 4th, 1929 - October 23rd, 2011.

Photos gratefully provided by Uli Nowlan.

Sally Robinson, October 2023
with words from interviews with Uli Nowlan, David Mossop, Philip Merchant, Wendy Brassard, Randy & Maria Hallock, David Ford. 

Sally Robinson

Sally Robinson

Vintage Ventures - Researcher & Writer

Sally is currently an independent consultant in the heritage field. Throughout her career, after working 20 years with Yukon museums as a researcher, curator and exhibit designer/producer, she joined the Yukon Government to work for 16 years as the Historic Sites Interpretive Planner.

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

Explore by Category

Explore by Author

A Tale of Chasing the Sun and Losing the Clock

A Tale of Chasing the Sun and Losing the Clock

blog

Mar 28, 2025 | 4 comments

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.

Min Height: auto
Min Height: auto
Width: auto
Width: auto
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.

Explore by Category

Explore by Author