Pennsylvania Elk
(long version)
Imagine it is the mid-1700s, in Pennsylvania. It is a time when names like Daniel Boone and George Washington belong to men, being shaped into the legends as we know them now. The land is untamed and the west dares no further than Pennsylvania and Ohio. Feuding Europeans fight over the land and entangle the few inhabitants carving out a future in the region. One of the creatures that Boone and Washington could have encountered was the Pennsylvania Elk, legends themselves to any who never had the chance to see one and only heard the stories by firelight. They ranged across the forests of Pennsylvania in uncountable numbers. All of the original Pennsylvania elk who once roamed the mountains and valleys, and all those who ever saw one, have long since passed and faded into memory.
History tells that the original Pennsylvania herd of elk declined and eventually went extinct by the mid-1800s, after the Civil War. These may have been the last native elk east of the Mississippi River. In the early 1900s, 177 Rocky Mountain Elk were brought east by railroad to several Pennsylvania counties. The herd grew but did not thrive. After 1931 the numbers began to increase. The herd count now numbers over 600 in a range of about 255 square miles. These few hundred Pennsylvania elk are the descendants of those relocated Rocky Mountain Elk.
My father and his family have lived in Western Pennsylvania for over 40 years, since he was a little kid. Our family dairy farms and grain farms, leaving little time for travel. The seasons are basically spent: planting between the raindrops in spring, baling hay and straw in summer, and, hopefully, fall finishes the harvest with combining corn. Then from deer season on through to March, even April there is snow and all the lovely Snow Belt weather. Between milking cows, and everything else that goes on around our place, they never had the chance to make the trip to see the elk. I have not waited so long as I am only 22, so I am not quite as bad, but do not tell anybody, it is kind of embarrassing to have lived here that long and not seen a Pennsylvania Elk.
We had been planning the trip for years, waiting for an opportune time, and Easter Sunday, April 11, 2004, found my father, his father and mother, and myself loading up into my grandparents green minivan for another road trip to the mountains. It was about a three hour trip to Elk County from our dairy farm in Western Pennsylvania. The main routes, to, from, and through the elk range are 255, 555, and 120. For our trip we got off Interstate 80 onto 255 which heads Northeast to 555. 555 basically follows the northern bank of the Bennett Branch and might be considered the southern “border” of Pennsylvania’s elk range. According to several sources, the internet and family members, Benezette was the place to head to see Pennsylvania Elk. Once in Benezette we drove up Winslow Hill Road. We drove slowly, scanning the valleys and rises for any sign but with no luck. The horizons were beautiful just the same, even without much spring green. Even if we were not able to see any elk, seeing some of Pennsylvania’s oldest residents, the mountains and the trees, was well worth the trip.
The roads twisted and bent around the sides of the mountains, following old game trails. Much of the area is made up of reclaimed strip mines. The land was starting to wake up from a long winter, and though the trees had not started to bud, yet, the grass was growing taller in the fields and in yards. We hoped that this would bring some elk into view as there was little left to eat in the forest.
As we came around one bend and a line of brush, with small trees, my grandfather said, “No we're not gonna see any elk… except for maybe those two," and pointed to the two he had spotted off to the right. We pulled off the road and got out the camera, binoculars, and spotting scope. Being our first elk we were quite impressed and enthused, they were on the opposite hill with a short dip between us, about 300 yards away. Two bulls, each with a spike, were lying in front of some bushes containing several more sets of ears and antlers, though we were unsure of how many. Obviously they do not mind the tourists so much, as they just sat there chewing their cud. One can imagine, as my grandmother joked, one saying to the other, “Oh look, some more people.” Then the other might reply, “Tourists, let’s give ‘em a good show,” and start posing for the pictures.
After enjoying our first elk encounter for some minutes we continued around another bend to the next clearing on the other side of the hill where there were at least 18 in the clearing or just inside the pines. Of these 18, 12 bulls still had some of last year’s antlers. The more we would look with the spotting scope the more heads we counted. Around the next turn in the road we saw at least 35 on the left, moving through some small clearings and the woods behind. This was a much closer encounter as many were only a few yards away. Around the next corner were five more of this group on the left and more were further up the hill in the trees. We watched them for several moments. Occasionally one would look up but really they did not seem bothered with our presence and went about their business, eating and meandering about.
After watching, photographing, and counting, we continued up the road and up the hill. We pulled into an overlook and got out. It was quite a sight. There were hills all around and trees and clearings in the lowlands below. The sky was overcast and in places it seemed as if one of those far hilltops would clear the way when the land and the clouds collided. We stood there and watched for a few minutes, taking in the scenery and keeping a watchful eye for movement. We talked with a couple other visitors and I took a picture of the only critter in sight, a turkey buzzard. Now I know that sounds strange but he was flying over the valley and the hills and it was a very picturesque moment, really. We were just getting ready to leave and I spotted a couple spots moving way across the valley on the far hill to the left. My dad watched them with the binoculars and within a few minutes the two antlered bulls were in plain sight. He lent the binoculars to our fellow visitors, which they appreciated, and told them of the many we had seen on the way up. After a couple minutes there were several more off to the right. After the overlook we drove up the hill a little more and turned around as it was getting later in the day and we still had a three hour journey home and cows to milk once there.
It was getting closer to sunset and there were more elk coming out the trees on our way down. We saw some of the same groups and then many more besides. We stopped on the way down at the place where we had seen the 35 before on the way up. We spent a little time here. There were many coming out of the trees into the clearing. Amongst them was a rather large bull that meandered a few yards from us. He looked like somebody had just woke him up from a nap and he was tired and in a grouchy mood. He walked throughout the edge of the trees and past a cow giving her calf a bath. He paid them no heed and proceeded away looking as if he would fall asleep in his tracks. The baby was so cute, with some similar features to my jersey calf at home, with long awkward legs and a cute little nose.
There was a group of cows eating about 25 yards away, off to the left, and one cow was the “watcher”. She stood at a vigil and kept an eye on things, so if anything went wrong she could warn the herd. Well I get these really outrageous hiccups, if you have met me you know what I am talking about. (And if you have not met me, well you might have heard me anyway) I had one of my rather loud hiccups and the watcher’s gaze shot directly at me. I am not sure whether she was just startled or I sounded like a calf because her expression was a bit of a worried scowl: seeming more confused than disgusted. As we continued to watch her and scan across to the other hillside, and she continued to watch, eat, and give me the occasional glance or glare: still looking confused.
While there we watched the place where we had seen the second group on the way out, it was further down the road and across to the opposite hillside. That group was eating their way down the hill and amongst them were two huge bulls we had not seen before. When we continued down the road we drove past the two giants and watched them proceed across the open meadow into another part of the forest and disappear within the trees. Even without their antlers and after a hard winter these two were quite the sight and had a considerable presence.
We drove back down the hill and I convinced my dad and grandparents to make a quick trip to the left, before heading home, to go around Grant Hill on 555. We saw an elk crossing sign as well as several more elk. We turned around after a little ways and on the way back saw over 20 across the river, of which seven were antlered bulls. We stopped to watch them and took pictures of course. One or two glanced our way, but did not seem to care about our spectating. They ate along the banks and drank or waded into the water. That had to be kind of cold as there was still the hint of frost and snow in the air.
Once we went past Benezette again we saw a few dozen more. The last of the closest elk were four eating in a meadow with tall grass a few feet from the road, three still had their antlers. One looked right at me when I took his picture and he surely explains why they are called “bulls” and “cows”. His face resembles one of the jersey calves we have raised. We went around the corner and there was another behind a pine tree. We saw several more groups near the river and across to the opposite hill. At least 30, but the day was waning and they were climbing the far hillsides. Many were on steep ledges that make my weak ankles creak, for one misstep might surely mean a broken bone or body. But their knowledge, instinct, and graceful ways led them upon the unbeaten paths safely.
All totaled we had a definite count of 173. There were many, many more but they were either too far away, in groups, or in the trees that it was too hard to get a definite count. We saw most of our count on the way up the hill, seeing many of the same on the way back as well as new faces. Of the 173, 37 still had some of last year’s antlers. We were surprised at how many still retained last year’s adornments as they generally lose them in late fall or by late winter/early spring. Then they start growing new velvet covered antlers: some older bulls in late March or early April and the younger in May.
We have heard that the best season to see elk is in the fall during the rut, mainly September and October, and the best time of day is either dawn or dusk, but I think we did “pretty good” on our trip on a warm April afternoon. We figured we might not see many, but we would try it anyway since we could not plant yet and chores were done for the day. We also thought that they would be easier to see since the trees were still bare. Some have said that 173 is more than they have ever seen during a single trip, and they make an annual trip every fall.
After having had my first encounter with elk I come to the following description, especially after seeing and photographing one of those last bulls. Elk are quite unusual but have similar features to other creatures, though retaining characteristics all their own. Bulls, or male elk, carry antlers like other members of the deer family; white-tailed deer for example. They support a similar body frame, only much larger than white-tails. Cows, or female elk, average 500-600 pounds. Bulls can weigh from 600-900 pounds and measure up to four to five feet, just to the shoulder. Of course they need something to balance out the weight of their enormous racks. An elk’s summer coat is much shorter and darker than the long winter coat. During the winter the body is a lighter grayish-brown, and the neck and chest are darker and thicker. Elk have short tails, four to five inches long, and their rumps and tails are covered in light brown, almost white, hair. Elk breed in September and October and cows deliver their calves 8 ½ months later, in May or June. A calf’s coat is dappled with spots. These elk young can weigh near 30 pounds and can stand within a half hour from birth. Elk can live up to 20 years. They really are quite extraordinary (or extra-ordinary if you prefer) and magnificent creatures. And I am sure in summer they bear quite the majestic presence with their many tined antlers for a crown, reigning over the mountains in North central Pennsylvania.
Usually when the phrase “Elk Country” is mentioned people think of the Rockies, out west, namely Colorado, but here in Pennsylvania we have a few too. We had a great time on our trip through Elk County. We were able to see some beautiful country and some bizarre critters. The terrain and the wildlife bring recollections to days since past, of what Pennsylvania’s pioneers experienced and saw. And the best part for me was experiencing the journey with three of the people who are closest to me. I would recommend the experience to anyone. More day trips are in the works and we hope to go back to the mountains, soon.
|
copyright © 1999-2010 and beyond L. Ford Terms and Conditions