Coffee with an Elk Calf, Bison, and Bulls
“If you don’t love Mother Nature, stay the hell away from her. There is no room left in the world for outdated “man versus wild” sentiments. For much of human history, we had wild places simply because we hadn’t gotten around to destroying them yet...... The next time you step into the wild, remember this. Acknowledge your gratitude for every danger. Regard every risk as a blessing. Be thankful that there’s something left to survive. The rustling noise outside your tent might be something that’s coming to eat you. By all means, be prepared to punch it in the face. But when you throw the punch, throw it with love.” Steven Rinella
I had arrived at Yellowstone sometime after noon. I don't really recall what time it was, on account I was in a sort of daze from all of the driving and the sleepless nights in an SUV at grocery store parking lots and rest stops. After I had checked-in to my campsite and set up camp, I decided to walk around, check out the scenery, and see if I could spot some wildlife. Little did I know, the entire campsite had become a haven for a small herd of Elk and a few Bison. Since the predators of Elk and Bison avoid humans, for good reason, the Elk and Bison tend to hang amongst us humans. As I danced around the trees and dodged the cow pies like one would dodge landmines, I got some choice opportunities to take photos of Bull Elks grazing and relaxing before evening set in. All while keeping a safe distance from the at times, dangerous and large animals.
Since it was mid-June, the Bull Elk, males, have been growing swords out of their heads in preparation of the rut, mating season. The rut for Elk in the Rockies reaches its peak in mid-September, running to mid-October. Since the rut was still a few months away, the swords on the Bull Elks heads, aka antlers, still had the soft velvet on them and they had yet to reach the increased levels of testosterone. In a few months time, the Bulls that are relaxing and grazing together will be attempting to kill one another in search of the perfect mate. They will also be so distracted by their need to mate, that at times they don't even notice a human hunter with a rifle or bow, waiting for the chance to fill their freezer all while getting the chance to have a nice trophy to tell the epic story of their Elk hunt. While the Elk are docile at this time, I'm still quite sure to keep my distance from these large and powerful beasts.
After setting up camp and taking in the majesty of Yellowstone Lake, along with wild Bison and Elk, it was time to get a fire going and have dinner. Since June is “early spring” in this region of the Rockies, it rains and snows and everything under the sun on a daily basis. Especially since Yellowstone has its own, unique climate. Basically, if you don't like the weather, just wait 5 minutes. All of the wood on the ground and even the wood I purchased at my campsite was damp. Starting a fire was almost impossible, however, I got one going. That was until it started to storm. The fire went out in minutes and I was left in the cold, alone, no music and no warmth, aside from my own body heat. Since I had consumed enough whiskey to soothe my soul and calm my spirit from the long drive, it was time to retire for the evening.
Night time in Yellowstone is cold, bone chilling cold. Day time temperatures ran in the high 60s to low 70s. However, it feels much warmer than it does in Ohio since you're 8,000 feet closer to the sun. Putting the “feels like” temp in the 90s at the zenith of the sun. Evenings got into the low 30s and high 20s. Mind you, this isn't your typical dry cold temperature, this is a damp and humid cold. Bone chilling cold. Even with all of my thermal clothing and my sleeping bag that is rated to 0 degrees, I had a very difficult time sleeping. At one point I woke up and the side of the tent I was facing had a condensation build up from me breathing warm air and the cold air meeting on the tent and the outside of the tent. So much build up, it was dripping onto the floor of my tent.
I had woken up at the time my internal clock typically wakes me up at, 5:00 am Eastern Time. In the mountains, that is about 3:00 am. I laid in the tent, falling in and out of sleep until it hit 5:00 am, Mountain Time. I slowly crawled out of my tent, one hand on my pistol (I slept with my pistol next to my head) and one hand holding my flashlight, searching for any Bears, Mountain Lions, Elk, or Skunk. Fortunately for me, the only thing that was awake and moving was me and my will to make a cup of coffee.
One of the best things about brewing coffee in the mountains is, the water comes to a boil faster on account of the altitude. As I boiled the water with my camping mess kit I did some calisthenics to warm myself up. Since you don't want to make coffee with boiling water, you want to get it just below boiling, I had to wait a minute, or less. So I poured my freshly ground Black Rifle Coffee Company Hazelnut coffee into my French Press and began the somewhat tedious process of brewing coffee while camping, in the cold mountains, with a French Press, or as I like to call it, Freedom Press. I would later move to a pour over system.
Since my coffee was brewed and sitting nicely and staying warm in my Yeti Tumbler, I walked down to Yellowstone Lake and watched the sunrise. As the sun rose over the snow capped peaks, the lights glistened on the snow, reflecting back onto a glasslike and smooth lake. The air was calm, cool, no wind, nothing but silence and the sound of the birds just awaking for a day of mating and feeding, and potentially some killing.
As I worked on my ever so delightful cup of coffee, I began to have a funny, yet all familiar feeling come over me. Nature began to call. Not the type of nature I was in, not the kind of nature that features Ace Ventura, the other kind. Luckily for me, there was a bathroom and a washroom to wash dishes just up the hill from my campsite. I grabbed my toiletries from my vehicle, my Freedom Press and headed on up to take care of business.
My Freedom Press holds more coffee than my tumbler, so I had some to spare. After I washed out the press and cleaned myself up, I headed down to my campsite to finish the rest of my coffee before I headed out for a day of sight seeking, hiking, and adventure. As I approached my vehicle, to my surprise, no less than 10 feet away from my tent was a young Bull Elk, a calf if you will. While this feller was little for an Elk, he was larger than a full grown White Tail Deer. He was somewhere in the area of 1 ½ to 2 years old since he was what is considered a “spike.” Meaning he barely had two points of antlers on him. While he was young, he was mighty in size.
He sat there, grazing on the grass around my campsite for a good half hour, while I enjoyed my coffee. He barely paid me any mind. Every once and a while, he would look at me, with eyes similar to a dog or a horse, he would make direct eye contact with me. I got one picture of him and joked when I posted it on social media that we had a nice conversation. I joked that he said he enjoyed being an Elk but wanted to move away to learn to dance. We sat there and enjoyed one another's company for some time. How long? I'm not sure. The concept of time escapes me when I am experiencing these things.
Later that evening, when I had returned from a day of sightseeing, hiking and conversing with some other tourists (who were amazing!) I decided to brew some coffee and go look around the campsite some more. That evening, I had coffee while watching a small group of mature Bison and Bull Elk graze and relax. The Elk grazed ever so gracefully. As if they are well mannered individuals at a fine restaurant. The Bison graze as they’re George Costanza eating ice cream at a tennis match. After the coffee was done, I switched to Whiskey, and sat among them as the sun began to set.
One of the few things that bothered me about Yellowstone is how people treat it like it is a petting zoo. Every year I read about how some buffoon got too close to a Bison or Elk and either ended up being gored or tossed around like a rag doll. Or how some foolish fool decided to feed or taunt a Grizzly Bear. The National Parks System has come a long way from promoting the feeding of bears, all thanks to George Melendez Wright. Sadly, the American people continue to have a skewed perception of the charismatic megafauna that reside in the Great Yellowstone Region. I blame Disney and others that portray these animals as cute and cuddly. I also blame our disconnection from nature. These animals are to be admired, at a distance. When photographing the animals or enjoying their presence, I made sure to keep my distance. I made sure to watch their body language, and of course, to be sure to keep a tree, fence, or car between us.
Like the quote at the beginning of this story said, you have to respect nature, because nature does not respect you. You have to acknowledge the danger, and be respectful and grateful for nature allowing you to be there. If by chance, you have to defend yourself, and you have to punch nature in the face, do it with love, but do it with a sense of survival. Because, mother nature will not do it with love, but she sure as hell will do it with a sense of survival.
