Know Your Neighbours:
Our On Shore Relations
October-November 2002
This is an article from WaveLength Magazine, available in print in North America and globally on the web.
To download a pdf copy of the magazine click here: > DOWNLOAD
by Bryan Nichols
Sea kayaks are a surprisingly good way to watch mammals on shore. That upright ape shape of ours, which seems to unnerve so many wild animals, is unrecognizable when half of it is hidden away in a kayak. What’s more, you can move silently, gliding towards wary wildlife from a direction they aren’t expecting (but use binoculars so you don’t disturb them). Checklist eighteen covered marine mammals— this time we’ll look at twelve four-legged mammals that often wander Northwest beaches and rocky shorelines.
Class Mammalia is our class, of course. Like all mammals, including whales, we have hair and nurse our young. Well, some of us do anyway. It’s a diverse class, but we have no close relatives in the Northwest in our family (hominids) or even our order (primates). A few other orders are better represented though. This checklist starts with Order Rodentia (gnawers)—not hard to figure out what they are—including everything from tiny mice to those dam beavers.
As most of us well know, the night sky can be filled with bugs. Yet birds can’t see in the dark and very few fly at night. An empty niche like that is nothing a few million years of evolution can’t handle—now furry little mammals with wings and echolocation are among the most abundant and widespread of all the mammals. Bats (Order Chiroptera, hand wing) are common here, though not in the sheltered, artificially lit world where we spend most of our nights.
But enough about little furry critters. Mammals are best known for their size—Order Artiodactyla (even toe) contains some huge hoofers, notably elk, moose and deer plus a variety of exotics scattered on the islands.
Though they aren’t as bulky, our most notable order of mammals (in my humble opinion) is Carnivora. The word means to devour flesh, and despite that ominous name (or because of it, depending on your view), these are some of the most intelligent and impressive animals in the world.
Canada is renowned for its remaining carnivores. Even though we don’t take very good care of them (hellooo—endangered species legislation?) they have persisted thanks to our large, remote areas. The families will ring bells back in your brains— Canidae, Felidae, Ursidae—big, furry, toothy wildlife which gobble up the rest of this checklist and struck fear into the hearts of our ancestors. Now though, most are beloved in art, photography and zoos, safe and cute and cuddly. Isn’t it adorable honey, give it a corn chip while I take a picture.
On that note, a not so gentle reminder. Feeding wildlife is a pet peeve of mine—it really peeves me to see people treating wild animals like pets. It is NOT ok to feed wildlife of any sort, mammal, bird—whatever. Whether or not you believe your food is “good” for them is not the point—nothing changes a wild animal’s behavior faster and more permanently than easy access to food. It sucks the independence and magic out of them, reducing them to pathetic beggars.
I have camped on popular islands in the off-season where desperate, starving raccoons will climb on you as you sleep, rooting around for your food. They screech and fight fiercely with each other all night, hoping for one of the handouts they came to rely on during the summer. Bears that become used to food (through direct feeding or carelessness) are either “moved” (killed) WaveLength or shot (killed). Feeding wildlife is illegal in parks, but it is immoral anywhere.
I’ll step down off my soap box and now add a plug for all those “formerly” scary animals. Lions, tigers and bears aren’t just framed photos or plush toys—they are powerful and effective predators. None of us really wants to get munched by any mammal, and large predators should still send a shiver down your spine while you camp in the wilderness, away from bright lights and big cities.
Paddle England’s beautiful coast, you might spot a fox. Or a sheep. Stunning New Zealand? Baaaaaaa! How exciting. Whether we deserve it or not, we are privileged to share our coast with some really remarkable big carnivores. Kayaks are a safe and very satisfying way to see huge grizzlies, wandering wolves and graceful cougars strolling the beach. Paddle away from civilization with this checklist in mind and see how many of its mammals you meet.
FURTHER READING
BOOK REVIEW The classic Peterson field guides Mammals and Animal Tracks are excellent references and cover all of North America. But for a much more intimate look into most of our mammals, try Mammals of the Pacific Northwest by Oregon biologist Chris Maser. It only covers mammals that live in Oregon and unfortunately Oregonians wiped out their wolves and grizzlies quite some time ago. However, there are in-depth accounts of all the other species, from bats to bobcats. Not a hollow, glossy coffee table book, this has extensive details of how these critters live, eat, procreate and die, making it an excellent reference for amateur naturalists and anyone who loves wild mammals. Amusing anecdotes (like drunken deer or “Mighty Shrew”) help lighten the tone. Mammals of the Pacific Northwest From the Coast to the High Cascades Chris Maser 1998 Oregon State University Press, 406 pp 0-87071-438-4 |
CHECKLIST #25 - Shore Mammals
MULE DEER Odocoileus hemionus (half ass hollow tooth) These graceful herbivores will often visit the beach, particularly around dusk, sampling several types of seaweed. Unlike most of the exotics they are decent swimmers and are occasionally seen crossing channels—quite a sight from a kayak. Some islands have dwarf populations, with adults not much bigger than a dog. |
DEER MOUSE Peromyscus maniculatus (small handed pointed mouse) Small and ubiquitous, campers become familiar with these little rodents if we leave food lying about. Though up close they are adorable, they can turn your romantic night in a wilderness cabin into a scurrying, gnawing nightmare. |
RACCOON Procyon lotor (washing pre-dog) Coastal raccoons often make evening or nocturnal trips through the intertidal zone, looking for tasty bits of seafood. They are present on surprisingly small islands and can be pests if ignorant tourists feed them (beware their remarkable dexterity with zippers). Their striking markings and meticulous habits make wild ones fascinating to watch as they feel around in seaweeds and tidepools, snatching up bits of food. |
RED SQUIRREL / CHICKAREE Tamiasciurus (shadow tailed storer) hudsonicus/douglasi These similar looking tree squirrels are often the only mammal you’ll spot on a trip—their harsh chattering makes them easy to detect. They stash mushrooms, leave piles of cone pieces and can sound like MUCH bigger mammals as they root around in dry leaves in the summer and fall. |
RIVER OTTER Lutra canadensis (Canadian otter) Another rare sight in the forests, river otters seem to love the protected seashores of the Northwest. There’s plenty of food for these adept swimmers—you are more likely to see them in the water than on shore. Noisy, boisterous groups are obvious but solitary otters may look at first like a small seal—when they dive, a flick of their tail gives them away. I’ve often seen them catch fish like gunnels and flatfish—they’ll swim bigger meals to shore and noisily munch away. |
EXOTICS Various ungulates Here’s a great idea! Let’s stick a few deer, sheep, pigs and/or goats on these islands, so when we come back, we’ll have something to eat. Colonial sailors spread ungulates like Johny spread apples, and pioneers and farmers carried on the tradition. The ocean makes for cheap fencing so islands were natural pastures—Northwest paddlers will find it easy to spot feral sheep, goats, European and Asian deer and other more exotic species sprinkled through the islands. How you feel about their presence depends on how much you like native wildflowers, which they tend to gobble up. |
BLACK BEAR Ursus americanus (American bear) “Black” bears seem to symbolize the best and worst of our big wildlife. Many people are terrified of them. The white kermode individuals of the North Coast are called “spirit bears” and treated with respect and awe. Yet these powerful and intelligent omnivores are also drawn to garbage and dumps, fed picnic baskets in the park and fearlessly approached by ignorant, wannabe photographers. If the last set of campers on that remote island you arrive at were careless or stupid, you might have to go to extreme lengths to cache your food. But if a wild bear has never had a reason to associate people with food, then an encounter is a rare and exhilarating experience. |
GRIZZLY BEAR Ursus horribilis (horrible bear) Kayaks are great because you don’t really want to be on shore and see a wild grizzly—certainly not up close. They are huge, and though they eat mostly vegetation (with seasonal salmon feasts) they can be decidedly grouchy. People call them unpredictable, but they are predictably more irritable than black bears and more likely to take toothy offense to your presence. They usually stick with the mainland coast, not the islands, which is probably good because camping in grizzly country necessitates meticulous care with food and other odorous stuff. They don’t like civilization at all and have been driven from much of their former range— real grizzly country is a rare and thrilling place to be, the ultimate in North American wilderness. |
MOUNTAIN LION Felis concolor (same colored cat) These large, tawny cats with long tails are unmistakable—and very shy. Terrifying stories of cougar attacks on humans are remarkably rare, especially considering their predatory nature. Unlike bears, they are true carnivores and rarely eat anything but meat. I would dearly love to see one from a kayak, but if you do see one from shore, stand tall, speak softly and consider yourself privileged—they are the North American epitome of grace and power. |
GRAY WOLF Canis lupus (wolf dog) Few animals have come to symbolize wilderness more than gray wolves. Intelligent, cooperative predators with mournful howls and a taste for deer and elk, they also have enough of a resemblance to our beloved pet doggies to stir our hearts on numerous levels. Though wildlife photography and art are saturated with them, they are remarkably shy and a rare sight in the wild. Wolves live throughout the coast and islands though, and are perhaps best spotted on remote beaches—keep your eyes peeled when you paddle around that headland, particularly near dusk or dawn. |
BATS Myotis (mouse ear) & others) Myotis (mouse ear) & others There are at least 10 different species of bat that might be seen winging through summer skies after sunset. Small ones are likely to be some species of Myotis—larger animals are probably the aptly named big brown bat. Northwest bats eats bugs, not blood, so consider them effective allies in the war on mosquitoes. Before it gets too dark, watch them hunt—they are nimble flyers. |
MINK Mustella vison (withered weasel) MINK Mustella vison (withered weasel) You might never see a mink wandering around in the forest, but Northwest kayakers see them regularly. Not as fashion accessories of course—I believe you have to be 102 or from northeastern Europe somewhere to sport a mink coat nowadays. No, we see these chocolate colored little weasels scampering along shorelines, patrolling for food. Only 35cm long and with an odd, bottoms up gait, they still manage to look quite fashionable in their fur coats. |
See a complete listing of all of Bryan's Checklists and articles
© Bryan Nichols biologist - (brynichols@fastmail.fm) has raised endangered red wolves and radio-collared bears, wolves and coyotes. Though he’s encountered every animal on this list in the wild, he has no macho scars to brag about.












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