I Have to Sell!

I Have to Sell!

nature reserve

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

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The Early Years

The Early Years

nature reserve

by Sally Robinson | May 30, 2025

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.

(6 minute read)

Erika Nowlan. Photo gratefully provided by Sabrina Nowlan.

Danny and Erika dreamed of developing a place where northern animals were shown in a home-like environment for educational and conservation purposes. Danny had a way of understanding wildlife that astounded those who knew him. He had a reputation as an expert in training eagles and falcons, and the wolf he raised at White River was the topic of a magazine article. 

Wolfy Article - The Star Weekly Magazine, October 17, 1959
This wolf gives the lie to legends by Hugh M. Halliday.

He thought that keeping wildlife breeding stock and selling animals to southern zoos and game farms would allow him to have enough money to run the Game Farm activities, feed the animals, and provide him and his wife and children with at least three good meals a day. He had no idea what obstacles lay ahead of him – but even knowing them would not have slowed him down or discouraged him. Danny was full speed ahead, full time.

Danny Nowlan with a golden eagle.

Like the time he brought a little Porter locomotive from an abandoned railway near Dawson. He thought a little steam train could carry people around the property, and the kids would love it. He took his 5-ton vehicle up to Dawson to pick up the more than 10-ton locomotive. It was a wild ride to Whitehorse, with Danny running the truck into snowbanks along the road to slow the vehicle. The truck’s brakes were not up to the job and by the time they reached Whitehorse they were burned out. Danny always had big ideas, and he usually backed them up with detailed and practical plans. The little railway did not pan out.

When the Nowlans purchased the property, it had a variety of high and low land, but the central feature was a wetland where today there is a big field.  The property needed roads and trails to be accessible for visitors and, although the marsh attracted wildlife, it was not part of Danny’s vision. At a local auction, he picked up a large earth mover (“scraper”) and a D8 caterpillar tractor with a cable-controlled blade (“cable cat”). This machinery was difficult to operate but it would be instrumental in building roads through the property - and Danny had a bigger plan than just roads.

He built a dam across the drainage from the cliffs to dry out the wetland and create a pasture for first mule deer and later bison. A pond developed behind the dam, and it attracted migratory birds and small mammals. The small animals attracted fox and coyotes, so the next step was fencing. He used whatever came to hand, including 3” pipe from the CANOL pipeline, an ill-fated World War Two project. He put a fence around an area with a small herd of grazing mule deer, and the Game Farm had its first large residents.

Some of the early buildings on the Game Farm were interesting. Danny bought the Yukon’s first airport hanger and moved it out to his property. His daughter Peregrine remembers two baby bears living under it. The Nowlans’ little home by the road did double duty as an animal hospital as Danny brought in wounded and abandoned animals. An owl with a broken wing was put in Erika’s book room and it roosted there on a shelf. She was forever cleaning owl poop off her books. A baby mink always wanted to swim. He joined the kids at bath time, and he developed a terrible habit of swimming in the toilet bowel if someone left the lid up at night. 

Sabrina Nowlan with a Dall lamb. Danny' and Erika's second daughter, born 1965 and lived 17 years on the farm and in Whitehorse. Photo provided by Sabrina Nowlan.

One night Erika screamed and woke the kids because a wet mink was running around inside her sleeping bag. She loved animals and endured a lot of chaos. Like the time Danny put their four-year-old daughter Sabrina astride a moose called Susiecue. The moose took off, and Danny was yelling for it to come back and shaking a bucket of oats. Sabrina went for quite a ride and remained completely fearless. Erika was not impressed.

Dall’s sheep were to be the Game Farm’s main attraction. They are magnificent creatures, they can be difficult for the ordinary person to see in the wild, and there was a market for them in southern zoos and game farms. After obtaining the necessary permits, a crew of hardy folk set off to capture some breeding stock at Thechàl Dhâl (Sheep Mountain) near Kluane Lake. Danny’s kids, Peregrine and Sabrina, looked after those first little lambs and kept them in their bedrooms. Wildlife biologist Manfred Hoefs was in the capture group. At that time, Manfred was a graduate student studying Dall’s Sheep horns. Danny, who had a Grade 2, a Grade 3, or a Grade 6 education (depending on who he was talking to), was famous for the amount of research he did on animals and their habitat. He was also famous for the number of useful contacts he developed with experts in many fields. Manfred continued to visit the sheep on the Game Farm for many, many years and established a Dall’s Sheep horn measuring protocol that the Yukon Wildlife Branch used to build a valuable and still-used research dataset.

Sheep camp for sheep capture - from left to right: Unknown, Teddy Yardley, Herb Zollweg, Unknown, Unknown, Danny Nowland and Erika Nowlan

All of Danny’s friends enjoyed a good story, and one of them involved the Game Farm sheep and the road building equipment. Danny was never very careful with equipment, and the machinery ended up sitting in the sheep enclosure. Manfred came to the Farm one time and found the rams all lined up and running at one of the scraper’s huge tires. They would bang into the rubber, bounce off, and run at it again. Manfred said they were loving it – the best thing they had ever hit in their lives. They just kept going – bang, bang, bang. Sort of like Danny – living and loving life to the fullest.

• • •

Photo gratefully provided by Uli Nowlan unless otherwise noted.

Sally Robinson, October 2023
with words from interviews with Peregrine Nowlan, Sabrina Nowlan and David Mossop.

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

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The Humble Dzäna

The Humble Dzäna

nature reserve

by Rebecca Carter | Apr 10, 2025

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

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Mar 28, 2025

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

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

nature reserve

Jan 17, 2025

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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