We are incredibly blessed to enjoy the beautiful endowment that is Rocky Mountain National Park so close at hand, as I have long referred to it as the “North 40” of our spectacular back yard. Along with the stunning grandeur of seemingly endless peaks to take in and hike among, the wildlife that is abundant in the park is quite a wonderful accompaniment to the views. While the wildlife is still quite wild, and all normal precautions for the safety and well-being of the animals as well as ones own is paramount, the frequency of human visitors to the park creates a unique opportunity to observe life that often goes on unseen by humans.
The elk are a great example of this gift, as typically these animals can be skittish of human presence. Even the local herds of Caribou Ranch and Magnolia have their limitations and will often move well away when a human is present outside of a home or car. Herds that inhabit lands with scant humans are even more wary, and often keep themselves well hidden from human eyes. Much of this is due to hunting, as a human seen or sensed by an elk in the wilderness often signals the very real potential danger of a predator. The local herds in the area are not only well accustomed to human presence, but also seem to have instinctively learned over many, many generations what lands are safe to travel through, and what lands are open hunting grounds, but even that knowledge tends to have them heading away when a human gets involved.
Elk in the park tend to have a very different story. They are now so many generations deep in protected life not only around humans in general, but a LOT of humans, that we seem to merely be a nuisance in their day-to-day. This is quite apparent with their comforts well known in their “overtaking” Estes Park in the fall and winter. Even deep in the mountains among herds that never leave the park boundaries, these animals are so used to their protected life and nearly year-round human presence, that they typically only show the slightest bit of wariness around us. This provides the gift I speak of, as while it is always imperative to keep a safe distance regardless of any comfort levels, one can observe their lives with quite a bit of relative ease.
In the case of this image, I happened to be spending an evening last summer high in the Krumholtz playing with my macro lens and the wildflowers when I looked up from the colorful subjects to see a herd cresting the ridge quite near my “studio”. As the last of the group made their way into the meadow below me, these three new additions to the herd followed the last few cows up into the low shrubbery to rest and frolic as the elders took their graze. Their general lack of wariness towards my open presence forced me into a retreat with my gear, as the lead cows kept heading my way without fear. They finally ceased their advance, settling into a hardy meal, leaving me a wonderful opportunity to take in the evening play of these delightful babies with the long lens (note that this image was still cropped quite close even with the lens at its maximum) as clouds and fog of the July monsoons crept in with the encroaching dusk.
Originally published in The Mountain-Ear
