As hunting season settles over the mountains surrounding Snyder Basin in Sublette County, the moose begin drifting toward a Wyoming woman's ranch. Sometimes alone, and sometimes with calves.
To Pamela Chrisman, their arrival isn't surprising.
It's been happening for nearly 40 years.
"They'd come in here and hide from the hunters," Chrisman explained. "This is kind of a safe haven for all those guys."
What began with one hungry old cow moose slowly blossomed into one of Wyoming's most remarkable wildlife stories — a bond built not through training or taming, but through decades of building trust.
Fish Creek Ranch
Chrisman was born in Big Piney and has spent nearly her entire life ranching beneath Snyder Basin, where cattle, horses and wildlife have always been part of daily life.
She was about 21 years old when she moved onto the remote ranch.
"There was no bathroom, no telephone, no running water," she recalled.
Winters meant trips to the outhouse through deep snow. Eventually, her mother helped install a well, and the two spoke each night over a CB radio.
The isolation never bothered Chrisman.
She grew up following her father while he worked cattle and said she always felt at home outdoors.
Animals had always occupied a special place in her life.
She remembered adopting a steer as a girl, loving her horses, dogs and cats, and riding horseback home after her school bus became stranded in the snow.
Long before the moose arrived, caring for animals was simply part of who she was.
Fish Creek Ranch has long provided the quality habitat and low disturbance that Wyoming Game and Fish says can keep generations of moose returning to the same place. (Pam Chrisman) 
"They just liked me," said Pamela Chrisman on her remarkable 40-year relationship with wild moose. (Pam Chrisman) 
Pamela Chrisman stands beside one of the wild moose that regularly visited her Sublette County ranch. (Pam Chrisman)
Grandma Mouse
"Sometime in the 1980s", Chrisman says an aging cow moose wandered onto the ranch and began eating hay alongside her horses.
The old moose was gaunt.
"She was really, really gray," Chrisman recalled.
Instead of chasing the animal away, she let it eat.
She affectionately named the old cow "Grandma Mouse."
The name stuck, and so did the moose.
Grandma Mouse kept returning.
Then she brought offspring.
Chrisman watched as one generation followed another. There was Merry Mouse, Miss Mouse, Baby Mouse and an old bull she simply called Old Boy. Each had its own personality.
"They have different temperaments," she said.
Pamela Chrisman stands with one of her longtime moose visitors outside the Fish Creek Ranch sign. (Pam Chrisman) 
"They just liked me," said Pamela Chrisman on her remarkable 40-year relationship with wild moose. (Pam Chrisman)
Building Trust
At first, the moose simply shared pasture with Chrisman's horses.
The horses accepted them.
"They'd go in and stand next to her in the corral," Chrisman said. "She could eat with them."
Over time, something even more unusual happened.
The moose began trusting Chrisman herself.
She developed a routine.
"I just gave them a hoop or a holler and shook the bucket," she said. "There they come."
Eventually, the relationship became close enough that Chrisman posed for photographs hugging the animals and even briefly sitting atop one especially gentle cow named Miss Mouse.
"I could actually get on her," she said. "They just liked me."
She never tried turning the experience into a roadside attraction.
In fact, she discouraged visitors.
The moose accepted her, but they remained wary of everyone else.
"I wouldn't let them up there," Chrisman said. "You better stand back, because they're just not really impressed about having quite a few people around."
Surrounded by the rugged country beneath Snyder Basin, Fish Creek Ranch has quietly welcomed generations of wild moose for longer than Pamela Chrisman can remember. (Pam Chrisman) 
Surrounded by the rugged country beneath Snyder Basin, Fish Creek Ranch has quietly welcomed generations of wild moose for longer than Pamela Chrisman can remember. (Pam Chrisman)
'They Know Where To Come'
To many people who spend time in Wyoming's backcountry, getting close to a moose is reason for concern, not celebration.
Cowboy State Daily recently spoke with runners competing in an ultramarathon through the Wyoming wilderness, and nearly all agreed on the animal they feared most.
It wasn't bears.
It was moose.
Massive, territorial and fiercely protective of calves, moose have earned a reputation as one of Wyoming's most unpredictable wild animals.
That is what makes Chrisman's story so extraordinary.
To outsiders, the idea that generations of wild moose would willingly return to the same ranch — and trust the same woman — might sound almost impossible.
But John Lund, regional wildlife supervisor for the Wyoming Game and Fish Department's Pinedale Region, said the behavior makes biological sense.
"It's not uncommon," Lund said of multiple generations returning to the same property, especially when an area provides high-quality habitat and protection from people, predators and other disturbances.
Lund said wildlife managers believe moose, much like deer and elk, likely learn seasonal locations from their mothers.
He also said big-game animals quickly learn where hunting pressure is low and return to those places year after year.
While moose hunting is much more limited than elk hunting, he believes the same principle applies.
For Chrisman, that's exactly what she has witnessed.
"They know where to come," she said.
R-E-S-P-E-C-T
At one time, Chrisman estimated as many as 10 moose regularly visited the ranch.
Today, about four or five still stop by.
Grandma Mouse is gone.
So are Merry Mouse, Miss Mouse and Old Boy.
But each winter, Chrisman still puts out an alfalfa bale and a few pellets.
She still watches the hills.
Descendants of those first visitors still find their way back beneath Snyder Basin.
Lund said becoming comfortable around one person "isn't unheard of," though he cautioned that moose are still wild animals. Cows can become aggressive while protecting calves, bulls often become dangerous during the fall rut, and any moose that feels cornered or threatened could attack.
Chrisman agrees that respect has always been the key.
"They aren't as mean as people put them up to be," she said. "But you've got to respect them and give them enough room."
She never tried to make the moose into pets.
She simply offered them a place where they were safe.
Kolby Fedore can be reached at kolby@cowboystatedaily.com.
