Sounding determined and confident, a large bull elk, most likely weighing 1,200 pounds or more, bellows and bugles right in front of me.
His back is arched and head held upward, mouth pursed in a funnel shape, his antlers flanking his strong shoulders. The sound of his bugling echoes off the mountain valley walls and comes around for a second time, amplifying his clear message of strength and dominance. He is keeping a watchful eye over 20 or more cow elk in his harem.
From over my shoulder I suddenly hear another bull elk respond with his own impressive bugle call followed by some deep belly grunts. By the sounds of it, he must be very close. Neither I, nor the bull elk I am photographing, can see this other bull, so his call comes as a bit of a surprise for both of us.
I just returned from a week of photographing the elk rut in Colorado. The aspen trees were blazing bright yellow and stood out against the Lodge Pole Pine forests, signaling the end of summer and the start of the rut.
With testosterone running high, my bull elk moves into a clearing. Immediately, the second bull appears out of nowhere. I can see that he is just as massive and means business. I’ve seen these kinds of challenges many times.
Normally what happens is the two opponents approach each other and turn sideways to show off their size. They walk-run while paralleling each other, much like a dance. They do this for 50 or 75 yards and they turn and trot back. Then one of them puts its head down and turns toward the other, ready to fight. Just the suggestion of fighting usually is enough to send one of them running off, and it’s all done. But not this time.
Within seconds of approaching each other, these two bulls run straight for one another, heads down, antlers pointed forward, intent on fighting. I barely have enough time to swing my camera around on the tripod and frame up a shot when the two bulls lock antlers and start pushing. Dust and dirt fly, and I can barely see what is going on. I can hear the antlers banging against each other in a very distinctive cracking sound. Then it is all over.
Quick test of strength
My camera shoots 14 pictures per second. Altogether, I took about 56 images, which means the entire encounter lasted about four to five seconds. And in that amount of time it was determined who was stronger and more dominant.
That is how it goes in nature. The strong survive and win the rights to reproduce and pass on their genes. This ensures that the population of elk in the future is the strongest and healthiest.
In this case, the reining bull elk retained his harem of cows. But the challenger didn’t go far and continued to bugle in response to the king’s bugles. All day, and for much of the night, this kind of challenge goes on.
During the rut the males spend much of their time corralling females and fending off challenging males. This leaves little time to rest and eat. So each bull looses weight, and therefore strength, as the rut drags on.
By the end of the rut, which can last upwards of two months, the male will have bred with all of the cows in his harem. Winter usually has settled in by the end of the rut, leaving the bull tired and weak. Food supplies are low, and if the winter is particularly harsh some of the bulls won’t make it through winter. It is a heavy price to pay for being king.
By the end of the week I had taken many thousands of images and witnessed some amazing animal behavior. It was an unforgettable adventure.
Until next time …
Stan Tekiela, Victoria, is an author-naturalist and wildlife photographer. He travels the U.S. to study and photograph wildlife. You can follow him on twitter.com and facebook.com or visit his website at www.naturesmart.com. His column appears regularly in the Advocate.