Although there were reported to be about 400 sage grouse hanging around the lek (breeding ground) a few days ago, when I arrived early Sunday morning, the fog was so thick it would be impossible for me find many of them, let alone to do a count. It was about -10, and when the sun rose over the top of the Wind River Mountains, it provided for a spectacular view from the top of the hills, but limited visibility in the lower stretches. In the photo below, the lek is shrouded by fog.

The lek is located in a broad sagebrush bowl protected on three sides by an assortment of badlands, ridgelines, and cliffs. It’s rugged country. On one ridgeline, I’d just watched a pack of coyotes circling a group of stranded mule deer. The adjacent rim was hosting a large group of ravens feasting on a carcass, and when I topped out on the far crest, I came upon another small herd of deer trying to eek out a living in deeper snow, where the bare earth had given way to miles and miles of snowfields. Some of the deer were in very bad shape, with ribs sticking out, prominent hipbones, and drooping ears.

The surviving deer grazed while just a few feet away, a golden eagle fed on the carcass of a former herdmate.

I turned around and headed for home, stopping to view some of the grouse that began to appear as the fog lifted. They were conserving their energy in the cold, waiting for the sunshine to melt the frost from their feathers.

As I drove, I wondered how the sage grouse manage to make do so well here, but I know that can end at any time. They should have been dancing and drumming on the lek this morning, but they weren’t. Was it the cold that kept them in scattered pockets today? Or was it the coyotes, ravens, and eagles?
Just a few miles further, toward home, I came around the corner to the Midland Ranch, and looked at the goat flock still calmly bedded with its guardian dogs.
I drove by my Nepali friend Gamon, who had the sleigh loaded with hay for feeding the bulls. It looks like a December scene, but the calendar tells us it’s almost spring.

We are expecting warmer temperatures this week, and hopefully it will melt enough snow to ease conditions for the struggling mule deer. We’re scheduled to have our animal damage control plane fly for us this week, getting rid of coyotes in our neighbors’ calving pastures, and checking in on our collared wolf pack. Perhaps I’ll ask the plane to take a lap along the high ridge above the lek, easing the burden just a little on our wild neighbors.

I wondered why these mule deer were all bunched up, standing instead of resting when it was so early and so cold. I started scanning the hillsides to see what might have disturbed them, and saw this. Two coyotes in silhouette (coyotes on left, deer on right).

I waited and watched. Two became four.

No wonder the deer were nervous. The mule deer were on a bare ridgeline, staying up out of the deep snow, but the four coyotes had the advantage here.

Then the coyotes were on the move, one at a time, inching closer to the deer.

The coyotes could move across the top of the snow without busting through.

The deer were watching, with some looking the other direction for a possible escape route. I noticed ravens down below, suspecting there was a deer carcass in that location.

The other coyotes moved in closer, with the deer on high alert.

As the four coyotes approach just below the deer herd, I fired the truck back up and made some noise. Remember, I’m still just paused on the county road, watching the end of a brutal winter. I’ve watched these deer try to leave the high country in deep snow, and seen their loss in body condition.

The coyotes get nervous and dart around the deer and over the hill. I use my spotting scope to scan the ridge for carcasses and see numerous dead deer. Some carcasses appear to be scavenged, but others appear as though the deer were killed (as evidenced by blood trails).

The fog rolls back up the hill and I continue down the road. I’m gone for about 20 minutes and the fog is still pretty thick as I top the hill and see this.

One mule deer fawn has become separated from its herd, with the pack of coyotes in between. The coyote in the photo is waiting for its approaching packmates. I don’t stick around to see what happens next.