PAXSON -- Just as they have for centuries, Nelchina caribou have started to move.
It was an easy, warm autumn for the caribou, prompting them to linger in their summer foraging grounds along the Denali Highway. Breeding season ended before the older cows restlessly tossed their heads and pointed the herds eastward.
Frosts were hard and Paxson Lake already had shell ice forming, forcing the caribou north of the lake. Hunters were waiting -- just as they have for years.
Opening day of the second Nelchina caribou season on Oct. 21 found the herd near the road, and the Richardson Highway was packed with hunters in big trucks pulling trailers hauling ATVs.
All hoped for a chance at a caribou in the Tier II season created the past few weeks.
They could have left their toys at home.
Groups of caribou -- three, five, 50, sometimes 100 or more -- braved the human gauntlet to continue their inexorable trek east.
Just south of Paxson, hunters paced the side of the road, waiting for the animals to move out of the Paxson closed area. Caribou walked nervously until the urge to move overcame fear and they ran for the hills beyond.
Some would not make it, but most reached the safety of the timber. Big groups always find safety in numbers; predators cannot take them all.
More than a thousand hunters were in the area the first four days of this late season, and their success rate was high. Most animals were taken within a quarter-mile of the road.
I was reminded of the late 1960s when I saw the same lines of vehicles watching and waiting along the Denali Highway. Again, in 1996, when there was a Tier I registration hunt, we saw lines of hunters on the roadside.
Some choose to hunt nearly shoulder to shoulder, like Russian River red salmon fishermen; others preferred the perimeters of the herd where there was some space.
There's a sense of urgency in this year's hunt -- perhaps because of the short notice or perhaps because hunters realize that the number of animals available for harvest could be taken quickly.
Even though the Nelchina herd has outgrown its population objective of 40,000 animals, it cannot withstand a full assault.
According to the Alaska Department of Fish and Game, the 2009 population estimate of 35,000 has skyrocketed to more than 45,000, thanks in part to an excellent crop of calves and improved counting techniques by state biologists.
The planned community hunt and Tier I hunt were nixed by the court, forcing a short-notice Tier II hunt.
Some caribou had already been taken in the August Tier I hunt before it closed, and now Fish and Game estimates an additional 1,500 caribou can be harvested without harming the population. That meant that about 3,000 Tier II permits would be issued.
Even though the main portion of the herd has passed through, plenty of caribou are still crossing area roads. The added permits almost certainly ensure that the harvest objective of 1,500 animals will be reached long before the scheduled end of the season March 31.
To avoid confusion, I'll concentrate on the winter hunt. Some 800 Nelchina caribou were taken in the fall Tier I hunt.
Despite a healthy herd size, the problem for the Nelchina herd has always been too many hunters, not enough caribou.
Nelchina caribou are sandwiched between Alaska's largest cities. The state game board held an out-of-cycle meeting to discuss the Nelchina problem and seek a solution that would satisfy most hunters.
Hunters, various Southcentral Fish and Game advisory committees and other groups made their suggestions. Eventually, the Game Board adopted a complicated set of regulations that will likely satisfy almost no one.
So perhaps we have a true compromise that could actually work.
There are three parts to the new regulations a community harvest, a Tier I registration hunt and a random drawing.
In the upcoming community hunt, any group of 25 people, no matter who they are or where they live, can declare themselves a "community" and receive permits if a set of criteria is followed. All community members will get a permit, with no limits on the number of permits issued.
The kicker? The community harvest ends when 300 animals are taken.
The second new regulation is a Tier I registration hunt. All who apply in the November-December application period will receive a permit. Permit holders will not be able to hunt either caribou or moose elsewhere in Alaska. There will be one permit per household issued, and anyone in the household may fill the permit. The change from past Tier I hunts is that hunters can get a permit every year instead of every four years.
The third Nelchina regulation will be a random draw. Permit winners -- up to 3,000 will be issued -- won't be banned from hunting moose or caribou in other units. This hunt started Aug. 20, or 10 days later than the registration hunt. That means it could close quickly if the caribou are on the road system when the initial season opens.
These are complicated regulations.
Making and enforcing them is costly. Nelchina caribou permits account for nearly half of the Fish and Game budget for permit hunts, the agency estimates. New regulations could increase that.
More caribou hunters afield in Unit 13 mean more hunters around that could take moose, ptarmigan or anything else if caribou don't aren't available. The reason for the crowd is simple: Nelchina permit holder have close to a 50 percent success rate -- far higher than any other caribou or moose hunt in the state.
That kind of bounty inevitably attracts less experienced hunters inflicting inevitable damage. We have wounded caribou by the dozens along the road now, and there have even been reports of shots being fired at caribou on Paxson Lake from three-fourths of a mile away.
If these inexperienced hunters encounter a moose, can they distinguish between a legal animal with a 50-inch rack and an illegal one with a 47-inch rack?
Ultimately, can Unit 13 -- a location accessible to some 400,000 residents -- stand this type of pressure?
Last week, an old lead cow snuffed and shook her head as she tentatively stepped out into the slush-filled Gakona River ahead of her group. There were no hunters here, just the same icy river she had swum in past seasons.
She sprayed water droplets as she climbed the far bank, her eyes fixed on the hills beyond. A wolf howled somewhere in the distance, but none in the herd hesitated.
Predators would not get them all.
John Schandelmeier of Paxson is a lifelong Alaskan and chairman of the Paxson Fish and Game advisory committee. A former champion of the Yukon Quest International Sled Dog Race, he has written on the outdoors for several newspapers and magazines.
