Deer and Elk
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Dead Eye
A lone bull elk wandered out into the Valle Grande at the end of the day. As he passed, with his wet, muddy coat drying in the evening sun, the light caught his eye, and I could see the eye was dead. Wounded from battle, the aging elk did the only thing he could—continued out into the Valle as the sun set, just as he has every day, likely for his entire life. Searching for water, and a place to graze, and perhaps a stray cow. Out into the Valle, searching for another day.
Bull Elk; Valles Caldera National Preserve, New MexicoNatureWildlifeDeerElkValles Caldera National PreserveNew Mexico
In a Doe's Eyes
I startled the two deer, but they didn’t go far. The young one, probably starting its second year, scampered off the farthest. But the older doe just darted a few feet behind some bushes. She kept one eye on me, and soon enough, went back to foraging on the spring’s new scrub oak leaves. As the evening sun skipped over the tops of the Jemez Mountains, the low-angled light cast the lower slopes, and the doe’s tawny coat, and the surrounding brush in a soft glow. I stood still, watching her jaw work side to side to strip the leaves off the branches. As her focus shifted fully back to the leaves, and as she selectively worked the scrub oak, I took a few steps closer. When she stopped munching to check on me, I halted my approach. We repeated this cycle several times before I was close enough to start in with the camera. The sound of the shutter caused her to look up again. But instead of giving me a straight on stare, she gave this far-off look, over my shoulder; her nose shiny and wet, her eyes reflecting the scenery, her over-sized ears perked up high, and the sun still painting her in the flattering last light of day.
Mule Deer Doe; Jemez Mountains, New Mexico
The Beast
I could hear the two bulls bellowing at each other as I hiked down the familiar slope, through the ponderosas, along well-worn game trails, and toward the edge of the Valle. As I got closer to my intended ambush, the wraith-like calls became more frequent and louder, and echoed along the ridges above me. In a light rain, I took shelter, and cover, under two large pines, and there I waited. With a clear view across a shallow ravine, in the shadows of the trees, and with the tall grasses of late summer in front of me, it was a good spot. Over the seeded heads of the grasses, I already could see a few elk across the ravine, just into the trees on the other side. If I kept still and they didn’t catch my scent, I expected they would emerge from the trees and move down the ravine right past my ambush. Soon enough two cows and their two calves came out into the meadow, and I could hear their bull pushing the rest of the harem down through the trees. First, another six elk emerged, then ten, then twenty. They just kept coming.
The harem included at least 20 cows and about the same number of calves. After the last cow emerged from the trees, I could hear the bull raking his antlers on some branches, and then finally, I could see him through the sparser covering on the meadow’s edge. When he finally left the cover of the forest, and came out into the grasses, I could see he was a beast. With seven points, and easily five feet at the shoulder, he walked with a purpose, and with confidence, each step a statement to any other animal that might be watching. He wore a beautiful cream-colored coat, a longer dark-brown mane, and his antlers stretched nearly half his total length. And as he walked through his harem, I could see his shoulder muscles rolling under his coat.
He pushed the harem down the slope and further out into the meadow, and soon enough, they were moving in my direction. As they did, to my delight, the sun came out. With another bull calling out in challenge, the Beast kept his eye on every cow and calf, herding them into a line, pacing that line like a drill sergeant, and corralling any strays. Every few minutes, the challenger would call out, each call closer than the last, and the Beast would turn toward the call and bellow back. With his harem in a tight group in the middle of the meadow, the beast started moving toward the challenger’s calls. He looked like he would welcome any fight, so I was beginning to expect a confrontation. But just as I was starting to imagine how to capture the action, the cows all suddenly raised their heads and looked out into the Valle. And then just as suddenly, they were all stampeding back into the trees. I turned to see, far out in the grass, three coyotes traipsing across the bottom of the Valle Grande. The fight would have to wait.
Elk; Valles Caldera National Preserve, New MexicoNatureWildlifeDeerElkJemez MountainsValles Caldera National PreserveNew Mexico
Just another deer in the neighborhood ...
Mule Deer Doe; Los Alamos, New Mexico
A Call to All Rivals
A bull elk brought his harem out of the trees, corralled them in a tight group around a small spring, and bellowed out to any rivals within earshot. But no rivals came to challenge the beast. From across the small meadow, I watched the bull do the tiring work of keeping his cows and their calves together, walking back and forth from one end of the group to the other. Every minute or so, he would stop, drop his head until his 7-point rack hit his back, and call out with a low moaning sound. I stayed and watched, until the entire herd meandered out through tall grasses, toward the setting sun and the wide-open spaces of the Valle Grande.
Elk; Valles Caldera National Preserve, New MexicoNatureWildlifeDeerElkJemez MountainsValles Caldera National PreserveNew Mexico
Yearling
Laying down in the grass for an afternoon rest, with mom and sister close by, she watched me walk through the neighborhood. I had already spent some time with this small family of mule deer, and was heading home, but I took one last look back, and snapped one last photo, and it turned out to be one of my favorites from the day. I like it, because to me, it looks like she thinks she’s hiding, whereas usually I’m the one being called out from my hiding places by the knowing glances of my subjects.
Adolescent Mule Deer Doe; Los Alamos, New Mexico
Bull Elk; Valles Caldera National Preserve, New Mexico
NatureWildlifeDeerElkJemez MountainsValles Caldera National PreserveValle GrandeNew Mexico
Portrait of a Doe
Mule Deer Doe; Los Alamos, New Mexico
I’m All Ears
As is typical for this time of year, a family of Mule Deer meandered through the neighborhood, grazing on the dry, yellowed grasses left over from summer. Somewhat like a gangly teenage boy, whose feet grow faster than the rest his body, this two-year old doe is still catching up to her ears. And while the adult deer know me well, and often approach quite closely, this young doe never ventured far from mom.
Two-Year Old Mule Deer Doe with Adult Doe; Los Alamos, New Mexico
Mule Deer Doe; Los Alamos, New Mexico
Bull Elk; Valles Caldera National Preserve, New Mexico
NatureWildlifeDeerElkJemez MountainsValles Caldera National PreserveValle GrandeNew Mexico
New Man
There is a small herd of does and young deer that ramble through the neighborhood daily, but I don’t often see the bucks. And when I saw one of the does, in her usual spot, nibbling from her usual tree, I didn’t see the buck lurking in the shadows of the ponderosas and scrub oak. A five pointer, and a new man in the neighborhood, he caught my attention when he started making low, guttural noises, and began approaching the doe. He was obviously still rutting. She didn’t seem too interested, jumping down from the small slope and walking right behind me, putting me between the two. More interested in her than me, he walked right at me in his pursuit of a “date”, giving me this opportunity. I would see them three more times before noon—the last right outside my back window—the buck, still pursuing, and the doe, still playing hard to get.
Mule Deer Buck; Los Alamos, New Mexico
Face Off
It seems the rut is over. I walked in one last time on Sunday evening and all was quiet. After so many trips to the same spot, so many hours listening to the bellowing, so many hours waiting for the elk to emerge from the forest anxiously anticipating their moves across the meadow, and the frantic minutes trying to adjust my position and my settings to get some decent photographs, I felt a little down sitting out in the Valle in the silence. By myself all those evenings, but for the first time truly feeling alone. It seemed even the birds had gone away. I guess it’s time to move on to other things.
To end the season, I’ll offer this final shot from two weeks ago: two bulls facing off after posturing for about an hour. Not the best quality image from this year’s collection, but I liked the interaction. Over the course of the month, I had seen both of these bulls several times. After a short pause and a stare down, the bull in the foreground decided to continue on his way, out into the expanse of the Valle Grande, while the bull facing the camera simply turned his attention back to his small harem. For those that have been following my month with the elk of the Valles Caldera National Preserve, the bull facing the camera is the one I have referred to as Dead Eye (for an injury likely suffered in a confrontation with another bull). Please know he’s healthy, and was with a small harem on this particular evening. I’ll look for him again next September.
Bull Elk; Valles Caldera National Preserve, New MexicoNatureWildlifeDeerElkValles Caldera National PreserveNew Mexico
Mule Deer Doe; Jemez Mountains, New Mexico
Alone
As the days shorten, my thoughts turn to fall. Long stretches of clear, pleasant days; crisp nights; and the changing colors, when grasses fade and aspen leaves turn from green to gold, are all things that I look forward to with much anticipation. Each fall, for a few weeks stretch, high in the Jemez, all day long, you will hear their calls. Bull elk calling out to their rivals, and to their large harems of cows.
Last year, I tracked and stalked a large herd for several weeks in the Valles Caldera National Preserve. I stumbled upon their daytime watering holes. I followed their faint trails through tall grasses to the slope, where the herd would bed down in the grass during the day. And I watched from there, and followed them to the spot where, each evening, they would leave the security of the forest, and wander out onto the floor of the Valle Grande to graze. On following days and weeks, I came back to that spot, through the Valle Grande, and waited in ambush, hidden in the thick grasses with the sun behind me, for the elk to come out of the trees. It worked beautifully for a couple of weeks, as the elk came to me each evening, and I got far closer to them than I ever had before.
One evening, as the rut was coming to an end, and as the darkness came on earlier, I waited for them to come; listening to their calls just short distances up slope and into the trees. The sun sank lower, and I realized the elk might not come out before the sun was below the ridge on the other side of the Valle. As I stared up slope, waiting and hoping, a loud bugle sounded behind me. I turned to see a lone bull elk wandering slowly across the Valle. He stood out in silhouette against the faded grass brought to glow by the setting sun. I watched as the bull slowly marched across the expense of the Valle Grande, stopping occasionally to bugle, out of tune, to whomever was there to listen. And I watched the sun set behind him, as the shadows crept, almost as slowly, across the caldera floor. The bull kept a straight course, until he walked across the line where shadows met sunlight and he disappeared over a rise and into the coming darkness. The scene was hypnotizing, but as the darkness came, and with it a chill in the air, I came back to my senses. Not too far off, a coyote called, and in response, the pack called back. The bull elk was not the only one who was alone on this evening, so I packed my things and made my own solitary march across the Valle and into the night.
Bull Elk; Valles Caldera National Preserve, New Mexico
Neighborhood Doe
Mule Deer Doe; Los Alamos, New Mexico
Bull Elk
The bull came out into the meadow before I could get to my ambush spot. He caught me on the move and I had to lay down in the tall grass. Not ideal, as the grass doesn’t provide much cover and gets in the way of shots. He sauntered this way and that way for a bit, and then started moving in my direction, down the shallow ravine that holds a bit of water. I was in the perfect spot between the sun and my subject, but I couldn’t get my camera above the grass and hold it steady, so I had to shift positions, without the elk noticing me. I did my best slow-motion, tai-chi-like move, holding my camera ready, and with a single butt cheek as the only point of contact with the ground. I slowly and quietly moved into a hunched sitting position, and was amazed the elk didn’t seem to notice. This was one of the first shots I took, while he was still some distance away, but he slowly walked right by me without noticing, passing about 30 feet to my right. Man, these guys are big. His antlers were still a bit bloody in front, but also covered in tree resin and dirt. His face was covered in drool and snot. No, perhaps not the prettiest picture, but this guy is rutting, without a cow, and he is riled. He walked past, bellowing every couple of minutes, and I let him meander further out into the meadow, none the wiser, before I got up and walked out.
Bull Elk; Valles Caldera National Preserve, New MexicoNatureWildlifeDeerElkValles Caldera National PreserveNew Mexico
