We see wildlife every
day. 
One day, a coyote sits unmoving in the snow, not far from our vehicle. It tips
and turns its head this way and that and cocks its pointed ears in various
directions, trying to tune in on the movement of a vole (rødmus in Danish) underneath the snow. Suddenly the coyote pounces
head first down in the snow, tail straight up in the air. Unfortunately for the
coyote, there is no catch. After several unsuccessful attempts, it howls and
yips. Its vocalisations are answered by a coyote buddy standing a bit further
away from us. Coyote number one trots over to coyote number two. There is
tail-wagging and bum-sniffing before they join a third coyote who serenely just
sits and waits for them. Then all three pals meander down to the frozen river
and out of our sight. 
Herds of big, brown
bison are a common sight, forming a dark and wooly contrast to the clean white
snow. They sweep their massive heads from side to side to push the snow aside
and get at the grass underneath. 
We also
see bighorn sheep balancing on a rocky slope while nibbling daintily on
winter-yellow vegetation. The rams have formidable horns that swirl backwards.
Another day we spot a
lone, shaggy, creamy-coloured mountain goat way up on a mountainside. And yet another time we see
three bull elks with majestic antlers – three hunky bachelors, at peace with
each other, lying in the snow, probably chewing cud.
We spot a
couple of moose lumbering through the deep snow. They are such strangely shaped animals
with their ridiculously long faces and odd dewlap thingy hanging under the chin
but they are nevertheless very endearing. 
One of our guides, Linda Thurston, took
the moose pictures with my iPhone through the spotting scope.
