Beside the Stream

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.