Category Archive for ‘elk herd’ at Beside the Stream

Archive for the 'elk herd' Category

A visiting elk

Published by Alice on March 3, 2010 in elk herd. 7 Comments

The snow is receding and people are feeling more hopeful about spring, but the deer and elk are entering their hardest time: their fat is gone, the graze is gone and there’s no new food to browse on. There have been two hungry elk hanging around this week, and this morning one of them was grazing out back. My flower bed starts at the snow line. This is a giant beast.

I took these pictures through a window, and the elk didn’t know I was there.

I got a beauty shot,

and a cutie shot, but when I went outside all I got

was a faraway shot of a ribby elk running away.

Elk ivories

Published by Alice on October 14, 2009 in elk herd. 4 Comments

I’ve been trying to acquire a pair of elk ivories for nearly a decade. No one in my family hunts elk so my chances of getting them are slim, but whenever anyone I know gets a license and goes out elk hunting, I mention that I’d sure love the bugle teeth if they’re not already spoke for. (Typical response: You’ll have to get in line.)

This is what I think of when I’m fishing for elk teeth, but the reality turned out to be a whole lot grittier.

Because it finally happened–a friend with an elk license said, I have five pairs of teeth that are just hanging around. You want ‘em?

I now have two pairs of ivories, and they don’t look remotely like jewelry. I spent a couple of nights cleaning them with a dental tool, scraping off the tartar and gruesome pieces of dried flesh.

This is about halfway through the cleaning process.

It is possible to tell the age and sex of your elk from its bugle teeth… if you’re an expert. From the chart, I think the ivories to the right are from a youngster and the ivories to the left are from a 5 1/2 to 6 1/2 year old, but I can’t guess their sex.

Finally, here’s a link to the sound of an elk bugling, thanks to the Pueblo Zoo (who says “Contrary to their name, the (bugle) teeth do not play a part in the elk vocalizations…”)

I say, if the sound of those bull elk advertising their virility doesn’t leave you hot and bothered, well, you’re probably not an elk.

Elk in the Spring

Published by Alice on April 19, 2009 in elk herd. 1 Comment

There was a herd of elk by the road. They were lounging around for quite a while, so I went home and got my camera and tripod.

I wish they weren’t so afraid of me, but all they do is run away.

They ran and ran,

and I kept following them (which they don’t like).

There was only one male still carrying a rack; everyone else had dropped theirs.

Sorry for wasting your calories by making you run, Glad you made it through the winter, and Good Luck birthing those calves.

Elk jump a fence

Published by Alice on March 26, 2009 in elk herd. 1 Comment

An elk herd was right by the side of the road. I got out of the car, and they bunched together

and ran to the next field, over a fence. They’re very good jumpers.

They don’t break stride for a five foot fence.

They seem to rise and fall in a seamless motion.

Three different elk here, with the same vertical motion.

Out of the eight hooves in this photo, there is one on the ground.

Most of these elk are airborne as well. When I was taking Physics in college, I happened to sit next to my professor during a performance of a troupe of Chinese acrobats. He liked them. “They really know their center of gravity,” he said. (I bet he’d like these elk too.)

Relative Size (in case you were wondering)

Published by Alice on March 11, 2009 in deer and elk herd. 0 Comments

I tried to compare the weight of deer, elk, horses and cows, but it wasn’t a straightforward exercise. I ended up using the average weights given in Wikipedia with notes from elsewhere.

Mule deer are a little larger than whitetailed deer:

A male mule deer weighs an average of 150 to 300 pounds, while the does weigh 100 to 175 pounds. The very largest males tip the scales at 450 pounds.

Whitetailed deer weigh in at 130-300 pounds for males and 90-165 pounds for females. The heaviest whitetail ever shot was a 500 pound buck killed in 1926 in Minnesota, but most of the other states have a maximum buck size of 300 pounds or so.

Elk are more than twice as big as mule deer:

A mature bull elk weighs 700 pounds, the cows weigh about 500 pounds, and the very largest farmed elk bulls weigh around 1,200 pounds.

Horses are almost twice the size of an elk:

An average quarter horse weighs about 1,000 pounds, a Clydesdale male can weigh 2,000 pounds, and the world’s largest horse (who lived in the 1880s) weighed about 3,360 pounds.

Cattle are a little bigger than horses:

A steer is slaughtered at about 1,500 pounds, and the world record steer was eight year old ‘Old Ben’, who weighing in at 4,718 lb in 1910.

Buffalo were listed as weighing from 800 to 2,200 pounds, which makes them about the same size as cattle.

It takes a herd of ten does to equal the weight of one cow or buffalo.

(I always wondered; now you know.)

Winter ticks

Published by Alice on February 18, 2009 in elk herd. 7 Comments

Eeeeeew!!! This gang of elk is infested with winter ticks!

The horse and cow in this field are being visited by a dozen elk carrying a thousand ticks,

but these ticks specialize in deer, elk and moose; domesticated animals aren’t particularly susceptible to them.

The ticks will drop off in March or April to mate; they lay their eggs in May, and die.

The eggs hatch, and in the fall the larvae of the winter tick (also known as the elk tick and moose tick) will crawl onto the tips of plants to jump onto a new host.

This yearling will look better in another month, but for now he’s as cute as a bug with buboes.

Sorry about the ticks, big guy.

A dead elk and a poem

Published by Alice on February 15, 2009 in elk herd. 4 Comments

This elk was hit by a car today.

It looks like it has a broken neck, and is so recently killed that the crows haven’t broken its skin.

The elk ivories are still intact, but the backstrap is gone. If I was less squeamish I could have gone home for pliers and a sharp knife, and taken the eyeteeth and some meat for the dog; I took these photos instead.

One Art

by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;

so many things seem filled with the intent

to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster

of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.

The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:

places, and names, and where it was you meant

to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or

next-to-last, of three loved houses went.

The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,

some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.

I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture

I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident

the art of losing’s not too hard to master

though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

An elk herd steals some hay

Published by Alice on December 28, 2008 in elk herd. 3 Comments

Sam called me on his way to town at sunset: there’s a big elk herd gathering in the valley, he said.

The sun is glancing off the top of the cliffs, and far below the elk are gathering at the left. There’s a yellow farm shed under the cottonwood tree, and there are four big horses and four piles of hay to the right of the shed.

Small groups of elk are streaming in.

This mom and her yearling definitely got the same invitation

as this big bull.

The herd is getting bigger

and bigger

and bigger until the gang of elk

spills over into the area where the horses stay,

and takes over the hay piles. There were roughly a hundred elk massed together like a flock of birds.

It was too dark and cold to stay, so I came back early the next morning to get a picture of the full herd. But the elk were gone, along with half the hay.

Elk run away

Published by Alice on May 10, 2008 in elk herd. 1 Comment

Bob and I were driving in to the first Farmer’s Market when we saw this herd of elk right close to the road. As long as we stay in the car, the elk aren’t very interested in us.

But there are all these shrubs in the way.

Bob backs up so I can get a clearer shot, and suddenly they were paying close attention. I haven’t been so close to the elk before, since they always run away. I had been wondering if they actually bump up against each other in their tight herds, or if they always keep a few inches space.

I think there are thirteen elk in this photo, squished like sardines. They’re definitely bumping together. I get out of the car,

and the gang of elk is gone, lickety split. The adjacent farm has an elk fence, so the elk have to run down to the end of the fence

and jump the irrigation ditch to get away from me. There’s a horse fence parallel to the ditch, and the elk jump it like steeplechase champs.

Adios! Sorry for making you run away.

A big herd of elk

Published by Alice on April 10, 2008 in elk herd. 5 Comments

Bob called me and said, There’s a big herd of elk on the way in to town. I think there’s about sixty.

So I took my camera, and sure enough there’s a giant herd of elk. I parked my car on the road and climbed the fence to get closer to them… but they aren’t interested in getting closer to me.

At first, some of the elk were lying down, and others were grazing. As I approached, they started organizing themselves in relation to me–here, they all faced me. Look how tightly they bunch together. These animals don’t have much personal space.

Then they collectively decided that they didn’t want to see me at all. All of these butts in a row, with their backs to me, makes it seem as though the elk are making a statement.

Herd life.

The collective noun for elk is either a herd of elk, or a gang of elk. In the deep snow, the elk sometimes gang up and steal the hay put out for horses and cattle. The next valley over, a gang of elk pulled down a haybarn and helped themselves.

Mad, bad, and dangerous to know–that’s how Lady Caroline Lamb described Lord Byron. That part I get. And when I look at this gang of elk and see how few men there are to go around, well, no wonder they’re so ornery.

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