Bob and I were driving in to the first Farmer’s Market (where Peg sell worms and asparagus, Suzie has daffodils, seeds and greenhouse starts and Holly has eggs and chicken) 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.
Published on April 10, 2008
in elk herd.
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.
When the snow gets deep in the mountains, the elk herds move into the valley and the deer stick close together.
In the backyard, the deer herd concentrates on the grass that is left uncovered.
Downstream, an elk herd crowds together and climbs on boulders
they graze in the trees
and in the fields.
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