Theo Finds a Musk Ox Friend

I have to admit. I never heard of a Musk Ox before I went to Alaska. I never saw one in a zoo. I never saw one on TV. 

Theo is also suspicious. We have a chance to visit a Musk Ox Farm.

"Sounds like fun," I tell him. 

He squints up at me, seemingly disbelieving every word that comes out of my mouth.

"No, they're real animals," I hasten to add. "I'm not kidding."

"Do I have a choice?" He doesn't say those words, but I can usually tell what's rattling around in that cat brain of his.

So we are here. A beautiful day. A rambling farm where the musk oxen roam. In Palmer, Alaska.

We learn there's an organization FOMO that's dedicated to protecting and teaching the world about musk ox. And, of course, selling some products and making some money.  

We learn that back in 1954, to help preserve these animals, John Teal domesticates a few musk ox calf on his farm in Vermont. Ten years later he moves his animals to Fairbanks, Alaska. His idea is always compassionate caring for animals through gentle, low stress husbandry. 

We learn that the musk ox goes back 2 million years and are often confused with the bison or the yak. During the last Ice Age (10-20,000 years ago) the musk oxen roamed the earth with woolly mammoths. 

We learn that both males and females have horns like sheep and goats. They also shed and regrow their coat every year, a process that is spurred by on by the warmer and/or colder weather.

Finally, the process of socialization (getting used to people) is important for the musk oxen on the farm so they feel comfortable and safe.

We are anxious to get out and see the musk oxen in person. They are behind a fence. But we can get fairly close to them.

They are magnificent creatures. I try to imagine their existence even 10,000 years ago. It is truly a look back into time itself. I want more than anything to get on the other side of the fence. I want to get closer. 

I glance down at Theo. He is here by special permission, a solemnagreement that states Theo must stay on our side of the fence. 

I see him mosing around, closer and closer to the barrier that separates him the musk oxen and his chance to sniff. I fear he'll find a way to break through, which would not be a good thing. 

"Don't even think about it. Remember you promised."

Sometimes Theo seems to have a hearing problem. Can he hear me? Do cats enter into their own world where they block out everything else in the pursuit of a single goal? Chase a squirrel or bird. Sniff a bug crawling on the floor. Slip into a closet where there's a giant bag of snacks.

"Maybe you should pick him up just to be sure," I say to Dan.

"He's fine."

"I'm afraid . . ."

"Theo can see how big they are. He's not going anywhere."

But then everything changes. We go to a separate part of the farm, still fenced in, where most of the baby musk ox are. There's something about seeing a miniature version of the musk ox, how small and cute they are. How cuddly they must be if you could pick them up. Theo seems to be thinking the same thing.

Suddenly, a baby musk ox wanders up to the fence. 

He's as curious as we are. I turn to see where Theo is. He's at my feet, his nose already in between the openings of the fence, sniffing, sniffing. By gosh, he begins to sniff the baby musk ox. No fear. And the baby seems perfectly content to sit there and be sniffed!

I feel guilty. Right above the musk ox's head is a sign--Do Not Put Hands Through Fence. Technically, Theo is keeping his paws on his side of the fence, but that sniffing nose . . . 

It's over even before it's begun. Theo is safe, but in that short amount of time, he's made a friend. They both stare at each other. Close encounters. How wonderful!

Theo Naps and Snacks in Historic Talkeetna

 Traveling around with a gangster cat can be a chore, at times. You want to do one thing, and he wants to do another. How do I convince Theo that Talkeetna (yes, the place where he had ice cream) is worth checking out--especially the historic places that go back to the 1890's?

The only sure fire method is a bribe. You do this for me and I'll do this for you. Of course, we're talking about snacks, plenty of snacks.

One tour is all we want, we tell him. 

He issues back a plaintive meow. 

We strike a deal.

The first known people of the Talkeetna area were called "mountain people." They lived in the area 6,000 years ago. They were nomadic Indians who hunted caribou and fished the three rivers that joined together nearby. The last of the mountain people died in 1918 during the flu epidemic. They left only oral stories behind, no written records.

Isabella Grindrod arrived in Talkeetna in 1917 and worked many jobs (laundry, cook) before buying her own cabin near the Talkeetna River, starting a freight company with two brothers, eventually marrying one of them which led to the Talkeetna Trading Post. When her husband died, she added a dining room to the trading post and began to serve meals. She kept chickens and a large garden. Unfortunately, her cabin no longer exists but here's a photo:

We're excited to walk into a cabin that does still exist, a railroad era style 1920's cabin to glimpse the inside  and see how people lived. This cabin was bigger than most. The owner also had a horse barn and small blacksmith shop and was the village blacksmith for ten years before he moved away. 

We visit another cabin, which was typical of a one room cabin built in 1916. The owner worked for the railroad, trapped and practiced gold mining. When he married and started a family, he didn't do the obvious thing and enlarge the cabin but built another cabin nearby. 

Theo likes the cabins. He spends as much time as he can sniffing around. He jumps up and looks out the window. When he tries to take a nap on one of the beds, it's time to go.

Life was tough back then. We pause to look at the breathtaking scenery, which is one reason why people lived there--in so much isolation. 

"Well, what did you think?" I ask my unusually cooperative gangster cat as we're walking back through town to catch the shuttle to our hotel.

He doesn't say a meow, only licks his lips--having just wolfed down an entire plate of snacks. 

Okay, Talkeetna is a hit in Theo's book. And in ours, too.

Theo Visits Talkeetna and Gets Ice cream

 Talkeetna, Alaska, has been called quirky and quaint, boasts more tourists than locals (only 900 residents) and is one of those towns where you feel you've gone back in time when you step foot onto Main Street.

I'm thinking of a small town, circa 1950, although it was settled in the late 1890's. It was the real inspiration for the fictional town of Cicely in the 1990's television show Northern Exposure. It was connected with the gold rush, the Alaskan Railroad and is known for its rustic log cabins.  It is also called the base camp for climbers who want to ascend the heights of Mt. Denali.

If you can block out the crowds of people queuing for ice cream. Block out the people waiting to get seated for lunch at the local pizzeria . . . you can begin to feel what Alaska was like 100 years ago.

Theo loves Talkeetna immediately when he learns that the locals elected Stubbs (and then Aurora), a cat as mayor (honorary mayor), but just the idea tickles Theo's underbelly. 

Our first decision is to take a boat ride up the Susitna River. The water is a grayish blue color which contrasts weirdly with the bluish gray sky. The clouds make a statement. 

We're headed towards historic sites that have been preserved. How did the native Alaskans live before the town was founded? 

They fished and hunted. They hung their animal hides up to dry. They used sleighs pulled by dogs to move across the snow. 

They lived in small cabins and made sure to store their food high off the ground.

We're off the boat and walking towards the main part of town, intending to take an historic tour. I love this part of visiting a new place. I love peeking into what people's houses (I mean cabins) looked like. I love learning the local history.

But Theo will have none of it. He wants ice cream. Before lunch?

The line for ice cream is about 100 people long. And it's slow moving. The sun is out and surprisingly hot. I look over at Dan, hoping he can save the day.

He has an idea. We duck into Nagley's Store, small general store -- smaller than your typical Wawa (but this is where Alaskans shop in Talkeetna) because Dan remembers they have ice cream. No line! 

Later, we're sitting outside in the shade eating our ice cream. Theo hunkers down at our feet, snoozing. He's had a rough sniffing day.

That darned gangster cat was right again. We needed an ice cream break. And then onto lunch. And an historic walking tour.