One of the highlights of Day 4 was this coyote bringing food to her pups.

We kept striking out with the bighorn sheep on this trip, so we decided to try one of Tim's suggestions, the Rescue Creek trail. Another early morning, and the quicker drive to the Northwest corner of the park got us there by 5:30. By six we were off on the trail, both of my heels taped up with extra moleskin and tape, after my new shoes had chewed up my feet in the last couple days.

The trail started out pretty easy. Okay, really easy compared to Washburn... an expansive grassy field, empty but for a set up wagon tracks trailing off into the distance. Ooo, look... cactus! We left the field and moved down into more flat scrubland. Not a sound, no movement. It was empty. We stared at the rocky outcroppings in the distance, looking for something moving, some sign of a white butt that gives the bighorn sheep away. Hey, we spotted a swallow... at least we weren't completely alone.

We continued through the scrubland, passing droppings of all sorts. Something had been there, just not recently. Soon, bones began to appear. Random bits of vertebrae, shoulder blades, and leg bones broken apart for the marrow. The trail began to ascend into a narrow canyon. Up it went, steeper and steeper. Suddenly it went from being the anti-Washburn hike to the Uber-Washburn hike. Brutal. I couldn't tell what burned more, my chewed up heels or my aching lungs. The climb lasted a few hundred feet, all the time more bones keeping us company. Eventually it flattened out, slightly, into some slightly wider grassy meadows. We could spot large, flattened impressions where something (likely elk) had bedded down for the night. But they too were gone.

We hiked for over two hours, probably going 3-4 miles, and we saw plenty of animals. Too bad they were all dead. It was, however, a fascinating landscape and it became a sort of challenge investigating all the bones, trying to figure out what died, what the pieces were, how the story played out... CSI Yellowstone, if you will. In some places, someone had conveniently placed antlers or skulls by the trail in plain view. There's something a little less natural about seeing an elk skull standing on a stick in the middle of the woods. I theorized that the forest animals had abandoned their production of Hamlet when they heard us tromping through.

After its sibling stole lunch, this pup was left wondering if mom had brought anything else to eat.

On the way back, we did manage to spot some coyote pups on a hillside, scattering to the wind once they caught sight of us. So at least we could say we saw more than just a swallow. Upon returning to the parking lot, we mosied over to the placard there and decided to read it... Lovely. "You won't find many animals here in the summer, except for pronghorn, which stick around into June. It's teeming with sheep, elk, bison... in colder months." Huh, well that explains a few things! Now I know why Tim always has good luck here: he never comes during the summer. So everyone reading along, remember to avoid this trail in the summer months, unless you too want to explore the secret animal burialground. As for the sheep in Yellowstone, I can only assume that they have an annual convention in Hawaii over July 4th weekend (the only other time I didn't see sheep in the park was around July 4th)... next year, we're going to Maui!

Laughing at ourselves for not reading the sign beforehand, my girlfriend and I drove back to Mammoth, and decided to traipse along the northern road, back toward Roosevelt. We spotted a couple of hawks camping out not too far from the road, and tried our luck snapping a few pictures. They proved elusive for the most part, circling once or twice overhead to check us out before gliding off in search of something more interesting and bit-sized.

Again we stopped near Blacktail road to look for the coyote den there, and again no luck, until a couple randomly pulled over and asked if we had seen... the coyote den up the road! We followed them back up the road where they pointed out the den, which was much further down off the road than we had been searching.

Setting up shop on the bluff across from the den, we spotted mom just in time, as she brought in a ground squirrel for the pups. Then she was off again, to search for more food. In the meantime, one of the pups grabbed the squirrel and ran off with it, bullying its younger sibling anytime that one tried to sneak in for a bite. Hunger and curiosity were soon replaced by sleepiness, and the pups went back to napping below the tree.

Off we went, soon caught in what surely was a bear jam. Sure enough, on the far hillside was a cinnamon cub... possibly the same one we saw the day before? He worked his way across a grassy area and eventually into the trees, where he suddenly became spooked and ran across a log to further shelter. Just like that, he was gone. It was time for us to mosey on out of the traffic and see what more was in store down the road.

We left the little jogging bear in the woods and took off down the road as traffic piled up behind us. We didn't get far though, as cars were beginning to slow around the bend, on the hill heading down toward the petrified tree area. Hoards of people lined the road, for quite a ways. We found a spot to leave the car as rangers worked the traffic. Here's one version of what transpired next...

Okay, so here's what actually happened. We left our car and fought through the crowds to see another cinnamon yearling climing along the deadfall. The other twin? Yet, there were more people up the road looking at something else. We hurried up there, and sure enough there was an adult black bear... and another... and another! This was what the ranger nearby indicated was a "mating threesome."

This black bear mating threesome caused quite a stir.

The cinnamon male shared the two black females apparently. The trio grazed for a bit while I stood expectantly, hoping the females would go after each other in competition for the male. But no, everything was peaceful and cooperative.

Soon though, the male got a bit frisky and approached one of the blacks. The ranger got excited, providing the play-by-play. "Here we go!" he exclaimed. The cinnamon tried to mount the female and then tackled her. Soon, they were up on their hinds legs, batting paws and growling at each other. Amazing. It was obvious that she wasn't about to give anything away, and they continued to battle for a few minutes.

Eventually, things calmed down, and all three continued to move toward the road, snacking all the way. The poor cinnamon yearling was watching this the whole time, and inched closer to a large pine tree. "He's about to climb! He's about to climb!" yelled the ranger. "There he goes!"

Enter the stranger. Another black appeared in the meadow. Five bears within 100 yards of each other! This one was a male, his fur matted from a recent swim. He ambled toward the threesome, grazing as he went. Once he picked up the scent of females, he ignored the flowers and we could tell he was on the prowl. Soon, he was running toward them, then stopped suddenly when a female spotted him. There was a brief staredown, and then he approached again. The newcomer smelled the female and she him. Is this the way a first date goes in the bear world? Suffice to say, she was already taken, and he might've smelled this, because he backed off and went back to eating flowers.

Throughout all this, the cinnamon male was blissfully ignorant. If he knew a competitor was there, he didn't show it. He just kept eating. No big bloody showdowns today, I lamented. The stranger made one more run for the female, which resulted in more sniffing, but nothing more significant came about. All the while, the cinnamon yearling sat high up in the tree and watched the action unfold. He wasn't coming down any time soon.

Wow, what a sight. It was time to move on though. We rolled on toward Lamar Valley, no more bearjams slowing us down. Our goal at this point was to reach Trout Lake and see if we could luck into some otters. On the way, we made some stops in the valley. A bald eagle swooped low briefly while we stopped for lunch, and we spotted ospreys taking a bath in the river from a long ways away.

The black female was forced to fend off the cinnamon male.

After lunch, we arrived at the Trout Lake trailhead, which was jam-packed. My blisters sure loved climbing that steep hill! Luckily, it wasn't a long hike, and folks coming down said they had seen otters, so anticipation was overriding any pain I might've felt.

We reached the lake, and hiked over to the inlet where the trout were spawning. Splashing and flopping fish were everywhere, but no otters to eat them. A bit of waiting, and then we worked our way to Buck Lake. Even less people there... only a cameraman with his big HD video camera. He was filming a duck. It seems the otters had been out earlier, but there was no movement at the moment.

We eventually chose to sit and wait at the friendly confines of Trout Lake, where by this time a small crowd had gathered. We were all hoping the same thing, that at some point the otters would get hungry enough to come back and entertain us. One hour passed. Two hours. At this point, storm clouds were on the horizon. We decided to pack it in. Tomorrow was our last day in the park, and we'd have to use it as a second try for either this hike, or the Yellowstone Picnic Area hike to see those sheep.

On the drive back, we hit another bear jam beyind Roosevelt. A black female, possibly a member of that threesome, was down below the road. Our favorite play-by-play announcing ranger was directing traffic and educating us. "She's found the grubs! There she goes!"

More pictures taken, another bear sighting to add to the list. It was time to go for our traditional dinner at one of the lodges. We always like to end our Yellowstone trips with a fancy meal at the Old Faithful Inn, but seeing how it was the Sunday before the Fourth of July, we figured it was unlikely we'd get a table on this night. Aiming for the Lake Hotel instead, we husted to beat the sunset... and ran into a bison jam between Norris and Canyon.

She did eventually find the grubs.

The delay cost us dearly. We had a quarter tank of gas left, which was plenty to get to the Lake, and food was on our minds. With 10 minutes to spare, we shuffled into the hotel toward the dining room. "It's weird," said the hostess,"we've had a lot of people who haven't shown up tonight." Thinking back to the bison jam, my girlfriend and I exchanged a knowing look.

The rest of the evening can be summed up quickly:

1) Great meal
2) Realized that we wouldn't have enough gas to get back to camp and drive early tomorrow morning to see animals
3) Gas station closed 10 minutes before we got there
4) Had to get the last room in the hotel for the night
5) The small yellow room and rickety bed weren't worth the $130
6) Until you consider the alternative of sleeping in our car

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Tomorrow: final day.