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Saturday, June 14, 2003
Didn't go out last week, so here is a flashback from last fall:
I was doing the Marie Creek trail backward, that is clockwise, going up the road first rather than out Mud Trail Hill. I had consciously decided to leave my camera at home because I intended do the entire ten mile loop and maybe the two mile spur also (4 miles out and back) , so I would have to keep up a good pace to make it in a decent time.
There is a ridge that parallels the road on the west side. I had mounted that ridge from the south end and had not gone too far when I came up over a small rise. There
in a shallow area in just in front of me was a small herd of elk. I counted 14 has they moved about. Some had been lying down. I stood still watching, expecting the animals
to wander off into the trees and down the slope on the left side of the trail. (the right side of the trail was a gentler slope, but mostly cleared of trees all the way down to the
hidden road way below.) Soon I realized that instead of wandering off into the trees, the whole herd had turned and were standing there looking at me and maybe a tiny bit
to my right. Not what I expected. What's going on here?
I took a couple of side steps to my left to change my perspective and immediately saw what the problem was. There just a few feet away from me, on the closest edge of
the herd was a tiny baby elk on wobbly legs. I instantly took a few backward steps to give everybody more room. The baby was having trouble maneuvering around the rocks
and stumps and clumps of grass. One of the adult elk came around between me and the baby and nudged the tyke along with its nose to the little guy's rump. Eventually
the little guy made it across the trail to the shelter of the trees. By this time the other elk had all blended into the trees also.
I knew they they were just feet or yards away, but thinking they would feel safe enough since I couldn't see them, I began to advance along the trail. I hadn't taken three steps
when the unseen baby elk started to bawl. Oops, too close yet. He cried out four or five times. His voice sounded like a cross between a human baby cry and the screech of a raptor, i.e. high pitched but hoarse.
Instantly out of the trees came two dark haired adolescent elk, their heads only as high as my shoulders. Galloping they came and charged right at me. They veered away at about three feet. I dodged behind a slanted shag, so my body was protected but my head clear so I could watch the goings on. The two made a short charge at the shag and then stood their ground just on the other side of the trail, their large eyes flashing their vibrant warning to leave their little sibling alone. As I spoke soothingly to them,
telling them I meant no harm, I noticed that several yards up the trail one of the largest adult elk had come back out and was standing in the trail watching the two young
ones dealing with me, like a Little League coach or Scoutmaster.
Eventually, apparently having received a signal from the others, unseen by me, the two adolescents started and departed into the trees. I looked up the trail and the Scoutmaster elk was gone too. I waited only a few seconds before advancing again, this time singing a soft lullaby for the baby so he'd know I wasn't trying to sneak up on him.
John 8:48 PM
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