I like elk. I was hooked at age 10 when my father bought ground in Colorado to run cattle. He hired a man from our home town of Groom, Texas to manage the ranch. That mans son, Jim Schaffer, and I hunted elk together for more than 40 years until he passed away a few years ago from cancer. At one time he was the youngest outfitter in Colorado, and years later was the oldest active outfitter in the state. I can bore you for hours with triumphs and tragedies involving horses, mules, camps, wrecks and survival in sub-zero weather without gps or sophisticated clothing and gear like we have today. 

The elk were the reason for all that effort. If you have never had the opportunity to stand in the dead stillness of a mountain morning and get goose bumps listening to the bulls screaming and fighting during the rut— your life is incomplete by my standards. There are a lot of sounds in nature that make me pause— the gobble of a early morning turkey, the cry of an Eagle, the geese at our Bottoms and the howls of coyotes when they gather or greet the morning— but the scream of a big bull elk is my all time favorite sound in the wilderness. I have been close enough to a screaming bull to see his eyes bulge and steam come from his mouth and nostrils as he tells his buddies how big and tough he is. I have seen them pee on the ground and roll in it to apply the perfume of the rut and then get it perfect by rolling in a muddy bog. I have smelled elk in thick wood that I never saw and they disappeared like ghosts. 

I’m in Wyoming with some of my best hunting buddies as I write this column. My knees are still weak from a scouting trip this morning when we were close enough to a herd to be able to see and hear all of the activity I have discussed. I don’t have words to give you a clear visual, but for me it was one more memorable trip to the mountain. 

I sat on a water hole a couple of days ago when this bull came for a drink. I have a cow tag, so he was in no danger. He drank for several minutes and then casually wandered back up the mountain— taking part of my soul with him. They do it every time, and I can hardly wait for the next encounter. 

Doc

Doctor Dan Witt is a retired physician and nature enthusiast.