MACLAREN RIVER — I've been hunting the Denali Highway area since I was just a squeaker. I saw the highway in the 1960s when the Nelchina caribou herd crossed at a place called the Amphitheater and the trucks were lined up for a mile just waiting. Back then, hunters could shoot four caribou each.
In the early 1970s when I was living on the Maclaren, you could hardly find a caribou. If you wanted one, you walked and packed. Caribou hunters today haven't seen either of those extremes over the past 20 years.
However, hunters have dealt with a variety of changing regulations — Tier II, Tier I, registration hunts, drawing hunts. All have figured into the taking of Nelchina caribou.
Oh yeah, lets not forget the community hunt, a different creature altogether. The Nelchina caribou herd is the most sought after group of animals in our state. Alaska's Board of Game, in its attempt to placate many diverse groups of hunters, has created a hodgepodge of hunts for the 2016 season. And the feds weigh in with their subsistence hunt too.
[Caribou near highways in the spring.]
The upshot of myriad hunts is that everyone who wishes to hunt caribou in Game Management Unit 13 can do so. Folks who have never held a rifle before opening day can come out to shoot, or shoot at, a caribou. All told, more than 14,000 permits were issued this season. Think about all of those hunters on the 135 miles of the Denali Highway. Spread some of those motor homes, campers and ATVs along the Richardson Highway near Sourdough, around Eureka and the trails extending from those locations. Competition for caribou is going to be extreme.
Caribou have been seen along the Denali this year, and most hunters willing to put in time will be successful. If you spot a caribou from the highway, be assured you're not the only one who sees it. A fair percentage of this year's "hunters" seem to be quite unprepared for actually taking a caribou. I get out quite often and walk some fair distances; what I see can be distressing.
I have found four dead porcupines shot along the road or trails. One dead porcupine I can understand. Perhaps someone's dog got into it. On Monday, I found a pile of six dead ptarmigan. My first thought was that someone was hunting and piled them alongside the trail intending to pick them up on their way back. However, 12 hours later, the birds were still there and no trucks were at the trailhead. Go figure.
Figure out the ptarmigan, then explain to me why someone would shoot a calf caribou, drag it a hundred yards from the gut pile, cut off the hindquarters and leave the rest in the middle of the trail. Also convince me why it was impossible for the hunter who shot a nursing cow caribou near Milepost 50 to pack or drag that animal 50 yards to the road after they had already field-dressed it. I've heard people talk about a caribou with an arrow in its butt near Whistler Ridge. There's also a good-sized dead bull in the ditch near Crazy Notch, partially skinned and left. I don't get it.
Are there too many hunters in the field? A friend and I were talking about this a day or so ago and his suggestion was to park a couple of State Trooper trucks along the Denali in strategic locations. Heck, the trucks don't even need to have an engine in them. That might give the road dunderheads some pause before they shoot something they weren't going to eat.
I have not personally seen a wildlife trooper pass Maclaren for more than a week. I easily could have missed them, but I sure miss seeing them. So do others. The point of enforcement is to be visible. Undercover agents might catch one dude, but visibility is a powerful deterrent to illegal activity.
I am sitting near my fire Tuesday evening contemplating the potential penalties for dunderheads with no respect. The northern lights were out in unprecedented August brilliance. Are they only out for me? I think not. Every animal has a life, a spirit. To think otherwise is ludicrous. To treat that life without respect is criminal.
John Schandelmeier is a lifelong Alaskan who lives with his family near Paxson. He is a Bristol Bay commercial fisherman and two-time winner of the Yukon Quest International Sled Dog Race.