A Cold Trap in the Snow
The tiny brown muskox calf struggled to lift its chin above the heavy white drift, its small hooves kicking uselessly beneath the packed crust.
Only its dark face and the top of its woolly back remained visible above the deep trench. A few yards away, the adult members of the herd stood in a defensive line, their massive horned heads lowered toward the ground.
The calf let out a high-pitched cry, its breath forming brief white clouds in the biting arctic air.
A snowmobile engine hummed to a halt a short distance away, its metal skis digging into the icy crust.
A wildlife worker clad in a bright orange rescue jacket stepped off the machine, immediately raising a pair of black binoculars to her eyes.
She adjusted the focus wheel, tracking the small dark spot buried in the massive white landscape. She grabbed a metal shovel and an orange avalanche probe from the back of her vehicle and began making her way toward the animals.
A Careful Extraction
Walking through the waist-deep snow required slow, deliberate steps, each boot sinking deep into the powdery layers.
The worker approached a second animal stuck in a separate drift—a young moose calf buried up to its neck in the heavy pack.
She extended the long orange probe, gently pushing it down into the snowbank right next to the moose’s ribcage to measure the depth of the drift.
The moose blinked, its long ears twitching backward, but it remained still as the metal pole slid into the pack.
She set the probe aside and drove the metal blade of her shovel into the compacted snowbank.
She worked systematically, slicing clean blocks of snow from the sides of the hole to prevent a cave-in around the moose’s chest.
She tossed large chunks of packed snow over her shoulder, working in a steady, quiet rhythm that avoided making sudden movements near the calf’s head.
The moose watched her closely, its nostrils flaring slightly with each breath, its large dark eyes following the rise and fall of the shovel blade.
With every scoop of the shovel, more of the young animal’s dark brown coat emerged from the white tomb.
Finally, she cleared a wide path leading out of the deep pocket, stepping back to give the animal space to move.
The moose calf shifted its weight, lunging forward as its front knees cleared the edge of the dug-out trench.
Rejoining the Herd
It scrambled onto the firmer snow, shaking its entire body to send a shower of white ice crystals flying into the air.
Instead of running away, the young moose took a few slow steps toward the worker, reaching its nose out to touch the flat blade of the orange shovel.
The worker stood still, letting the animal investigate the metal tool before it turned and trotted away toward the distant hills.
The moose’s long legs moved awkwardly at first as it adjusted to the firmer terrain, but its stride quickly smoothed out.
It looked back once, its ears pointing forward, before disappearing into the wider valley.
With the moose free, the worker turned her attention back to the muskox calf, which had also managed to wriggle its way out of the deeper snow pocket with her assistance.
The small muskox trotted across the open tundra, its short legs moving quickly over the wind-swept patches of grass as it headed straight toward the waiting adults.
The herd opened their defensive wall, allowing the youngster to slip directly into the middle of the group.
The massive adult muskoxen stepped forward, forming a tight circle around the young calf, nudging its shoulders with their large, flat noses and breathing warm air over its frosted fur.
Monitoring the Tundra
The worker stood several yards back, raising her binoculars once more to confirm the young animals were walking without a limp.
She pulled a small black notebook from her pocket and wrote down her observations, her gloved fingers gripping the pen tightly against the cold.
The muskox calf test-jumped over a small snow mound, landing cleanly on a patch of solid ice.
It shook its heavy coat, the long outer hairs swaying back and forth as it stood firmly on the slippery surface.
The small herd began to move again, their heavy hooves crunching softly against the frozen ground as they walked past the parked black truck.
The worker walked back toward her snowmobile, her orange backpack bobbing slightly with each step as the animals disappeared over the white horizon.
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