*Intermission*
My Top Ten Wildlife Experiences, #3
Bugling Elk
Fryingpan and Snowy Range
1972 to 1976
When I was Ranger on the Fryingpan District, Whiteriver National Forest, for the fun of it, I worked on the skill of bugling to elk by whistling through my fingers. I developed a pretty good imitation of a bull elk and over the years, since 1971, have called to elk hundreds of times -- a few times I’ve even had an elk bugle back! Twice it was memorable.
In the fall of 1972, Vinance Faver and I were riding the Basalt Mountain Cattle and Horse Allotment. It was a beautiful fall day, we were looking at the grass utilization and seeing if the cows were in the area they were supposed to be. Being with Vinance all day on a horse looking at cows and grass was always a good day - and a learning day for me.
Because the elk had started bugling, Vinance had brought along a small brass bugle he’d just bought - he didn’t hunt, it was just for fun. As we rode he would get the thing out and blow it from time to time, but it was a pain to deal with and we were riding the oak brush country so that made it worse. I started imitating the bugling by whistling through my fingers. Vinance was impresses, so that was good, and from time to time I’d give it a try. We were getting higher in the country working our way up through the oak brush and starting to get into scattered lodgepole pine when I got an answer to one of my whistles.
There was an elk down there! And he answered me! I waited a few seconds, Vinance said “Answer him.” I did. He called back!
We were riding up through the brush toward a small open knob, but it was a ways off yet. As we worked our way up, the elk and I were increasing our conversation -- of course I had no idea what I was saying to him. But, we could tell he was getting closer. We thought that was a good thing - at least it was exciting.
Finally we reached the knob, it was open, no oak brush or pines, rocky and only about as big as a couple houses. We looked around for a minute, I bugled again.
The elk bugled back and all of a sudden there he was! - Crashing though the brush and onto the knob with us. Madder than hell and five or six points on each antler - I wasn’t into making exact counts, but those points looked big! He was dancing around, snorting, head and antlers held high, he looked like an elk ready to fight. Our horses didn’t like the odds and started prancing around wild eyed looking for somewhere to run. Vinance and I were about the same as our horses.
That bull elk wasn’t leaving, but he wasn’t sure we were worth his effort to fight. I definitely had quit bugling and Vinance was trying to shoo him away. This was not a good place to try and dodge a charging bull elk and there wasn’t any place to get away.
After a minute or so of hooting and hollering and hat waving the bull decided these weird critters weren’t worth any more effort and he crashed down through the brush, returning to his harem. He evidently figured we were no threat to his beautiful cows ~ and he was right!
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My other big bugling experience was September 13, 1976, by then I was ranger on the Laramie District of the Medicine Bow National Forest in Wyoming. Linn was the range technician and on this day we were riding the Snowy Range Sheep and Goat Allotment. As I recall there were two or three bands (1000 head each - counting only ewes) on the allotment. In mid September the grazing season was about over. Snow that stays would certainly set in within a month. So, we were checking forage utilization and problem areas.
We unloaded the horses at the top of the pass on the highway that goes from Laramie to Encampment. We headed east, just skirting the ecotome between the sub alpine and alpine. It was early and the day was still cold, but the sky was clear so the sun would warm things up in due time. We’d been riding a while so I let out an elk bugle whistle, it was the season. Almost immediately I got a reply. We were in alpine fir moving from one clump of trees to another. I bugled back - he replied. He was coming closer. We kept moving, I called again. He answered. We kept riding, staying in the trees. This went on for half an hour or more - an extremely long time for one of my wildlife experiences. Finally the bull was in the same clump of alpine fir that we were. These trees have branches that go all the way to the ground so sight distance is short.
The bull was crashing around, snorting and bugling, trying to decide what to do about us. We were moving around trying to peer through the limbs to get a better look at him. He could have been, probably was, a six point or bigger (it’s my story and I’m saying six point.). He was making a heck of a lot of noise and no more than thirty feet from us.
After a bit of that we decided we’d better get out of his territory before things got out of hand. We worked our way out of the stand of fir into the alpine. Clearly acknowledging -- He’d won. But, we had a neat experience.
Jerry
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