Bull Elk go crazy during the rut. If you're not sure what this means, take a good look at this one. He's barely in control of that huge body. He's in an altered state.
A 6x6 bull, he was among the "second tier" of contenders; a 7x9 monster was king. No one dared challenge him, but slightly lesser bulls such as this guy had aspirations. This fellow was standing watch over a resting cow, who appeared indifferent to his attention. Five photographers were bunched fairly close together, shooting through gaps in the foliage. When the cow got to her feet, one of them said, "I think she's going to come our way!" - just what we didn't want.
A moment later she was trotting toward us with the bull in hot pursuit, and we scattered like thrown dice, diving for cover behind thickets of small trees - safer than a single large tree because he knows he can't get in there with that huge rack. This all happened in a few seconds: I glanced over my shoulder, they had veered toward me and were shockingly close. I cut right, stepped in a hole in the tall grass, and crashed to the ground. My left forearm hit something hard. Shooting pain. The elk ran past me and didn't stop. I picked myself up. "You okay?" a couple of the other photographers asked. I said, "Yeah" although I wasn't sure yet if I had broken my arm. It turned out to be a deep contusion, a bone bruise. Ten days later it's a lovely yellow with complementary blue and green. It only hurts when I squeeze it.
I think anyone would have fallen after stepping in the hole that took me down, but still, I was the oldest one there, so it gave me pause. I know I'm not as spry as I once was. However, I kept up a good level of activity and exertion during my week in Jasper, and feel really good in the aftermath. I'm not ready to quit; not yet.
More to come...
Photographed in Jasper National Park, Alberta (Canada). Don't use this image on websites, blogs, or other media without explicit permission ©2021 James R. Page - all rights reserved.
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