Rarely have I found the skull of a cow caribou, but it seems that almost every trip I lead into the Brooks Range I find a bull caribou skull complete with spreading antlers. This one, my group and I found on a bench above the river. The day before we’d found another up on a ridge, and from this set we could see yet another, the tips of its antlers reaching out above the willows a few hundred yards away. I find this abundance of caribou struck down in the prime of their life, interesting. Clearly they are all meeting their end in the midst of the rut or shortly after, the antlers, still firmly attached and fully grown, make this clear. Are these caribou stressed by the hardships of battling other males, finding mates, and migration? Is there untimely end due to too much energy expended? Are they being wounded in sparring matches by other males? Attacked by wolves or a bear when they are injured or distracted by a comely female or a rival male? Just too damn old to make the cut?
Oh, the stories I could invent, none of them happy.
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