Over the years, Shirley and I have become accustomed to seeing so many members of the deer family that we pretty much take them for granted. In the wrong places, though, or wrong in my perception, they can be downright annoying. The urban deer population has exploded and I do rather object to them coming to feast on my roses. Or even worse. A couple years ago, bucks visited our yard to scrape their antlers on our Japanese maple and dogwood trees. Roses grow back. The trees were destroyed root and branch.
But attitudes can be adjusted for geography. At home, for example, Shirley despises spiders. If she spots one in the house she insists that I schmoosh it with a tissue and flush it down the toilet. But when we are camping, her rule is we have invaded the spider's territory and should therefore leave it alone. (I know. Go figure. Some day I'll tell you about the completely logical yet complex and arcane rules she has for dealing with her husband.)
Members of the deer family, including elk, moose, and caribou, are welcome encounters when we are hiking and camping. You can undoubtedly tell them apart even though there are about 60 species and subspecies with subtle distinctions. You are probably aware, for example, that a reindeer is a domesticated caribou usually found in far northern Europe. Years ago, when our grandchildren came just before Christmas I took them into our yard to show them some deer droppings. "Look, kids," I said, "Santa sent his reindeer ahead to make sure we were ready for Christmas." (They believed that story even after they got wise to Santa.)
I have referred several times in other locations to the woman in Yellowstone who asked if I was watching "that big brown thing." In the off chance that you too might be a little hazy about elk, please refer to the photo captions. I'd rather not insult you and other readers with annoying, unnecessary pedantry. In my opinion, elk have the more impressive combination of stature, antler spread, and operatic voice. (You should hear them sing during the autumn rut, your hair standing at attention on your neck.) Moose may have greater size and more massive antlers but they are seriously in need of rhinoplasty. Although they appear rather ungainly, moose can move surprisingly fast. You definitely don't want to assume that you are quick and agile enough to get out of the way should a moose take offense at some wisecrack about rhinoplasty.
Notice the velvet on the antlers of this bull elk. It carries the blood supply
that promotes the growth of the impressive rack that elk ladies insist on.
Like this, for example.
"Hmm, I wonder if he would like to meet my parents."
"No, wait, maybe I need a closer look at the rack on this guy."
He sings nice but I don't think he is ready to seriously compete this year.
Elk were gone from the eastern states 200 years ago because of lost habitat and over hunting. In 2001 and '02, the Park Service reintroduced them near Cataloochie in the Great Smoky Mountains.
Perhaps the elk gain a sense of comfort and protection from hanging
out right in the ranger's front yard.
Mule deer in velvet.
Elk calves are born right in the Mammoth Campground in Yellowstone.
They are called mule deer not because they are stubborn but for their huge ears.
Moose are the largest members of the family.
This young bull is still in velvet and does not yet have what it takes to impress the ladies.
We know two couples who traveled together in the West. They entered Yellowstone in the south and exited in the east. Complained they didn't see any animals. I don't know how that is possible even though they were just passing through. Come to think of it, I don't how just passing through is possible either.
Elk cow with her calf from the preceding year.
There is nice, tender irrigated grass in the town of Mammoth.
The elk seem to prefer it.
Girls in tent slept late and missed their visitor.
Meanwhile, these calves came to do a taste test. LL Bean is pretty good but Kelty has a more piquant finish on the palate,
This is the "labor and delivery room " where the cows give birth.
Proud mama.
Moose prefer willows and aquatic plants to grass.
Jimmy Durante
At Gros Ventre Campground, right on that river in the Tetons, lady moose are frequent visitors.
Also frequent visitors at Riley Creek Campground in Denali National Park. "Come on, you kids keep up now."
So mama moose and twin calves went stomping right through our site.
Notice the tracking collars on these cows.
Why did the caribou cross the road?
Seeking relief from biting flies in a snow bank. Sounds impossible, but mosquitoes and flies can kill a caribou. And carry off Stone sheep in their talons.
The driver of the Denali Park tour bus said we were running late and would not make any more stops unless there were caribou right in the road.
Mulie Dear came to visit in Montana.
At Black Canyon in Colorado, this deer appreciated the shade of our RV.
Her fawn hung out nearby.
Another campground encounter in Rocky Mountains National Park.
He strolled right through our site. Totally ignored us.
Which was undoubtedly a good thing
He headed into the lodgepole pines. Makes me wonder how bulls with
six-foot-wide racks can move so quickly through tightly spaced trees?
Mule deer at Guadalupe Mountains National Park in western Texas.
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