Musk Oxen

August 28, 2008
On the front page of today’s Anchorage Daily News, there was a story about a musk oxen that had to be shot several times to its death after it attacked a couple musher dogs in their owner’s yard, then charged the owner when he shot at it. It finally fell only 500 feet from the man’s front door, where he had taken refuge. The story went on to tell how oxen attacks are more frequent than expected, especially this time of year when the bulls are rutting and getting ornery. It said, “this is not the time to be out and about due to the rut and everything of that nature….battles between bull musk oxen during rut are spectacular and violent contests..their skulls are heavily armored with four inches of horn and three inches of bone directly over the brain in the area of contact.” Further, the article said they don’t seek out confrontation with humans, but when people and pets cross paths with them, problems arise. They don’t want to kill, eat, or even hurt people, they just want us away from them. Jim Dau, the wildlife biologist for the Kotzebue area where this incident happened (northwest Alaska), said that if a musk oxen charges you, run like hell!

Now, you may ask why I made it a point to give you this information. Well, it kind of shook me a bit because on our way to Deadhorse, we came across a herd of musk oxen along side the road, and rather than run like hell, Sheilagh and I yelled for Ian to stop the truck. Then she and I walked back to them, our cameras on the ready. A man and a woman were already fairly close to them, taking pictures, so how dangerous could they be, we asked ourselves. After making sure the road was clear of traffic, Sheilagh and I walked to the middle of the road, clicking pictures of the beasts only a few feet from us. There were several adult oxen, and one baby. All of them were fascinating, their long, silky hair hanging from the middle of their backs, down their sides, to nearly touching the ground. Their horns curled around the sides of their faces, some pointing towards their eyes, others pointing to the side like Pippy Longstocking’s pigtails. There seemed to be no neck between the large long-nosed heads and the hump on their shoulders. Their legs barely showed from under the long black hair all over their bodies. Over all, they seemed a cross between a buffalo and a goat. The strange looking, but fascinating beasts seemed docile, eating the sweet grass along the road. Now and then one would look up at us, then get back to his lunch. We never felt threatened and when we had enough photos, we turned our backs on the pack and casually, but excitedly, walked back to the truck. NOW I find out how dangerous these beasts are! I guess it’s better late than never, and I guess we had some guardian angels watching us. Thank goodness there was plenty of grass to go around and they didn’t think we wanted them to share!