Beasts in the Mist: A Morning at the National Elk Refuge
A flash of antlers dashing across the road.
A herd glimpsed from the back of a snowmobile.
That’s about all I’d ever seen of elk before we headed down to Jackson’s National Elk Refuge, a vast area dedicated to the well-being and study of wild elk.
We woke up on Monday to a town smothered in mist. We could barely see ten feet in front of us as we made our way to the visitor centre to pick up our tickets for the elk sleigh ride, which would get us up close to several members of the herd and allow us to learn a bit more about their biology, migration patterns and behaviour.
“This will be an adventure for everyone,” our guide informed us slightly dubiously, but with a mischievous grin, as we boarded the rustic, horse-led sleigh. “Let’s go on an adventure in the mist.”
As our sleigh juddered and began to move, we nestled down under blankets to protect us from the sub-zero temperatures. We ambled slowly through a landscape choked with cloud – as soon as we set off, I could no longer see the sheds or other sleighs we’d left just seconds earlier. We giggled and chattered nervously as the horses trotted head-long into the unknown. An eerie, almost magical atmosphere hung in the air – I can only imagine how festive and exciting the sleigh rides feel around Christmas time.
Before long, we started spotting elaborate, delicate shapes in the mist, not even twenty feet away. Antlers. Elk are beautiful and majestic-looking creatures, close in looks to deer and moose. Each time one suddenly appeared next to the sleigh, peering inquisitively in at us, it felt like looking at something otherworldly.
This time of year, most of the cows are pregnant, so they kept their safe distance. The bulls, however, were more than willing to give us a show. Two started rucking right in front of us, ash-coloured antlers clashing wildly. Others, covered in barely healed wounds and snapped antlers, had obviously had quite enough of fighting.
Before the ride, we’d heard feverish rumours around the town of a “monster elk”. A bull who was close to breaking records with the size of his antlers. It sounded like a classic small town myth, and I wondered whether there was any truth in it.
“This elk is the biggest I’ve ever seen in 30 years” our guide explained as we crossed a rickety bridge, settling any doubts we’d had. “This guy is a giant.”
Before long, we could see what he meant. The bull lay down in the grass, and it wasn’t until he slowly, leisurely turned his head to the side that we saw the full scale of his antlers. They reared proudly into the air, and looked so crushingly heavy we found it a wonder that he could even hold his head up. “I bet no one picks fights with him”, I whispered to Phil. Seeing such a strong, majestic creature in the wild was incredible – especially to have him just a couple of feet away, almost within touching distance.
As the sleigh ride continued, we learned about how elk grow their antlers (they shed and grow a new pair every year) their eating habits (they have four stomachs) and their migration patterns.
After an hour of riding around the refuge, it was time to return to the visitor centre. It was such a unique, special experience that an hour seemed like ten minutes, and the mist added an atmospheric mystique to the morning.
