Most people get to the office and pour themselves a cup of coffee. Jessy Coltrane, the Anchorage area wildlife biologist with the Alaska Department of Fish and Game, grabs a cup of coffee and, if it’s summer, answers her first bear or moose call of the day. Some days the call comes before the java. Some days she never makes it into the office, unless you consider her pickup truck her office.
One day in mid-June, her first call was from Laura Krip in Muldoon, but Coltrane was chasing bears and moose in east Anchorage and couldn’t check her office messages until after noon. Krip’s message, now some six hours old, said she and her 6-year-old daughter had just found themselves nose to nose with a grizzly bear.
Krip has walked her dogs in a wooded area along Chester Creek, just east of Muldoon Road, one or more times a day for years. By her estimate she’s walked those trails “thousands of times.” That day was different. (...)
In May and June it’s not just the bears that keep Coltrane hopping. She gets as many calls about moose. Cow moose drop calves from mid-May to mid-June and the young calves are often separated from their mothers by fences, traffic and other urban hazards. Young moose calves are also vulnerable to bears. Hiding out in the city is not a surefire way to avoid the big predators.
On the same morning as Krip’s close encounter, before she got to her office, Coltrane fielded several moose calls. A caller had heard thrashing and bawling in his backyard off Upper DeArmoun Road and assumed that a bear had killed a calf, a cow, or both during the night. He wanted any carcasses hauled away so the bear wouldn’t linger and possibly defend its kill. This situation occurs as many as a dozen times each summer in Anchorage. Sometimes the bear is still there. Coltrane and her assistant, Dave Battle, spent several hair-raising minutes crawling through a dense thicket of alders looking for a dead moose. Battle’s 12-gauge shotgun was locked and loaded; Coltrane was packing a can of bear spray because her finger’s broken and bandaged. The search didn’t turn up any carcasses. A cow moose is a formidable opponent, even for a bear, and it appears that she won the skirmish. (...)
Being the Anchorage area wildlife biologist is a lot like being a firefighter. You’re on standby and whatever your immediate plans might be, the rest of your day is just a phone call away.
Coltrane and Battle arrived at the Alaska Department of Fish and Game office after noon and Coltrane finally heard Krip’s adrenaline-spiked phone message. She headed for Muldoon, knowing it was too late to find the bear, but wanting to familiarize herself with the trail where Krip had encountered the bear. On the way she received a more-urgent call. A woman, who had locked herself in a bathroom, was reporting a bear in her house. Coltrane called the woman and headed for the Hillside.
One day in mid-June, her first call was from Laura Krip in Muldoon, but Coltrane was chasing bears and moose in east Anchorage and couldn’t check her office messages until after noon. Krip’s message, now some six hours old, said she and her 6-year-old daughter had just found themselves nose to nose with a grizzly bear.
Krip has walked her dogs in a wooded area along Chester Creek, just east of Muldoon Road, one or more times a day for years. By her estimate she’s walked those trails “thousands of times.” That day was different. (...)
In May and June it’s not just the bears that keep Coltrane hopping. She gets as many calls about moose. Cow moose drop calves from mid-May to mid-June and the young calves are often separated from their mothers by fences, traffic and other urban hazards. Young moose calves are also vulnerable to bears. Hiding out in the city is not a surefire way to avoid the big predators.
On the same morning as Krip’s close encounter, before she got to her office, Coltrane fielded several moose calls. A caller had heard thrashing and bawling in his backyard off Upper DeArmoun Road and assumed that a bear had killed a calf, a cow, or both during the night. He wanted any carcasses hauled away so the bear wouldn’t linger and possibly defend its kill. This situation occurs as many as a dozen times each summer in Anchorage. Sometimes the bear is still there. Coltrane and her assistant, Dave Battle, spent several hair-raising minutes crawling through a dense thicket of alders looking for a dead moose. Battle’s 12-gauge shotgun was locked and loaded; Coltrane was packing a can of bear spray because her finger’s broken and bandaged. The search didn’t turn up any carcasses. A cow moose is a formidable opponent, even for a bear, and it appears that she won the skirmish. (...)
Being the Anchorage area wildlife biologist is a lot like being a firefighter. You’re on standby and whatever your immediate plans might be, the rest of your day is just a phone call away.
Coltrane and Battle arrived at the Alaska Department of Fish and Game office after noon and Coltrane finally heard Krip’s adrenaline-spiked phone message. She headed for Muldoon, knowing it was too late to find the bear, but wanting to familiarize herself with the trail where Krip had encountered the bear. On the way she received a more-urgent call. A woman, who had locked herself in a bathroom, was reporting a bear in her house. Coltrane called the woman and headed for the Hillside.
by Rick Sinnott, Alaska Dispatch | Read more:
Image: Rick Sinnott