I.

It was still pitch dark as Wes pulled his truck to a stop nearly at the end of the county road.  Hunting was hard work, and required sacrifice.  Getting up at 3 A.M. to be in the right place at the right time on opening day was a hard thing to do.  He’d almost have rather stayed in his warm bed; but now that he was here in the frosty air positioning himself to await his quarry, he felt the exhilaration of the hunt.

It was a financial sacrifice, too, to be sure, and his wife was less than happy about what his gun and equipment had cost; but he reassured her that the meat he’d bring home would eventually pay for the original expense many times over.  And even if his sport didn’t pay for itself, the feelings he got as he pursued his hobby more than made up for any discomforts or expense.

Here he was executing a plan.  He’d been working the plan out for weeks, and the moment for carrying it out had finally arrived.  He had scouted the elk and had learned the habits of the herd.  Though it was too dark to see a thing, he knew that the elk were in the alfalfa field below him, and that they’d soon be coming right past this spot as they returned to their daytime refuge on the mountain.  They’d move out just at daylight, and he’d be waiting for them.

Wes was irritated to see another truck parked up the road ahead of him.  His irritation rose as another, and then another, pulled up behind him.  He wasn’t the only one who knew about this herd and about the magnificent 6-point bull that led it.  Wes hoped that all of the pickups wouldn’t spook the herd.

The hunters didn’t interact with one another.  The engines were shut off, and a profound silence was maintained.  Some hunters, including Wes, sat in their trucks waiting for the first light of day.  Others quietly left their vehicles and made their ways to predetermined hiding spots closer to the feeding herd.  The presence of other hunters in unknown locations in the dark complicated things for everyone.  Wes wished they weren’t out there.  He’d have to be careful where he shot.  Nevertheless, there were enough bulls in the herd for everyone.  He just hoped he’d get a shot at the big one.

The hunters who’d left their pickups worried Wes.  They were positioning themselves closer to the herd, and would get the first shots.  They might mess up the plan by making the herd leave the field by a different route.  Wes considered walking a quarter of a mile through the field and getting in the ravine that the creek had cut so that he’d be in the forefront, too.  But he quickly rejected that idea.  In the first place he’d be in the line of fire of the hunters up here on the road.

In the second place it was very likely that the eager beavers who were positioning themselves down in the ravine would, indeed, spook the herd.  If that should prove to be the case, what would the herd do?  The elk might determinedly stick to their traditional route and run past him here, but more likely they’d go south and try to circle around the hunters.  Wes was sure that there were hunters positioned at the edge of the woods there on the south, so when they opened fire, the elk would turn and head north.  The only way they’d be able to get past the hunters and the trucks and to get back to the mountain would be to go around the hunters by going north.

Wes hated to break the silence by starting his truck; but having decided that the elk would leave the field by going north, he turned his pickup around and pointed it in that direction to be ready for a quick takeoff.  All that was needed now was a little light.

The time ticked slowly away.  Wes strained his eyes into the darkness trying to make out shapes in the field a mile below him.  When the world had accumulated enough light for human eyes to begin to function, Wes finally found what he thought to be the herd of elk.  It wasn’t strung out and calmly coming his way as he’d imagined and hoped.  Instead it was a tight knot of black shapes way down in the field.  The elk weren’t spread out and grazing.  They were bunched up.  That wasn’t a good sign.  They were nervous.  They knew something was up.

As Wes watched the big, black knot far out in the field he saw it begin to stretch out into a long line heading south.  The elk were running.  They ran for a short way, and then stopped and milled about.  They bunched up again.  Small groups would break from the bunch and begin running this way or that, but would stop and rejoin the herd.  The elk clearly knew that they were surrounded by danger, and didn’t know which way to go to make their escape.

It was getting lighter and lighter.  So far no shots had been fired.  The elk were too far away.  They were scared.  Full light was coming, and they needed to gain the shelter and safety of the woods.  Finally a cow broke from the herd and headed south.  The entire herd followed.  They were running.  The cow led them south for a quarter of a mile, and then bent her course west toward the woods.  A shot rang out, and the lead animal went down.

The rest turned and ran back the way they’d come.  Several more shots followed the first.  The elk ran this way and that.  Several more animals went down as the herd lined out heading north.

The scene was playing out just as Wes had expected.  He started his engine and raced down the road to intercept the herd.  They were running hard and were going to successfully outflank most of the hunters—all except Wes and three other pickups that were just now coming up the main road.  All Wes had to do was to make a left turn into another lane, race a half mile up the hill, and he’d be right where the elk would have to cross the road.

Wes turned the corner ahead of the other three pickups and headed up the hill only to find himself blocked by a herd of cattle being moved by a farmer and his kids.  Expletives filled all four vehicles as they screeched to a halt behind the cows that filled the roadway from fence to fence.  The hunter and the drovers all watched as the elk hit, leaped, and went through the fences a quarter mile above the cow herd.

Why did that idiot of a farmer pick this early hour to move his cows?  Wes was so mad and anxious that he was hyperventilating.  There were the elk just a quarter mile away, and there was no way to intercept them.  He could have been right there where the elk were crossing the road but for this idiot who was out doing what shouldn’t be done at this hour.

Wes’ big bull got away.

II.

The cattle were out of pasture.  They needed to be moved, and James needed help to move them.  Tomorrow would be another school day, so the only time his help would be available was either before or after school.  The cows couldn’t wait until afternoon, so it would be necessary to get the kids up early and move the cattle before the bus came.  It would be a quick job.  It would require no more than 30 minutes, and the kids were willing.

He woke them early, set out breakfast as they readied themselves, and had them put their school packs in the pickup so that they could go straight to the bus as soon as the cows were put into their new pasture.

Everything was choreographed just right.  The sun wasn’t even up yet as the kids got the herd out onto the road.  They were driving the cows, and James was plugging the driveway to keep the cows from turning in there.

James turned his head and saw a large herd of elk burst into the field above him.  This was the opening day of elk season.  Not being a hunter himself, he didn’t care a whit about that except that it always meant more work for him.  These elk were running hard.  Frosty steam came in great bursts from their nostrils and sprayed out on either side of their heads.  They were going to cross the county road, and being as desperate as they looked, James knew his fences would never survive.

And here came the hunters!  The cows plodded by on their way up the hill.  And coming to a reluctant stop right behind the cows was a man James recognized.  Wes was breathing heavily with eyes fixated on the escaping elk herd.  He was leaning forward in his seat, panting, and banging his hands anxiously on the steering wheel.

But there was nothing anyone could do.  The cows plodded on.  Somehow as the sounds of snapping wires reached James’ ears he wasn’t the least bit sorry for the hyperventilating hunters.  They’d never before offered to fix the fences, and wouldn’t do so this time, either.  They would also leave the dying cow elk that was following the herd for James to dispose of.

III.

The big bull elk didn’t like it.  There was too much vehicular traffic.  Every night before this his herd had grazed through the night in perfect peace and quiet.  It was nice out there in the meadow where there were no humans nor cougars to worry about.  But one car after another had gone up the road and turned out its lights near where the herd would have to pass when it headed back to the mountain.

Cars meant people.  And people meant danger.  The bull began rounding up his cows.  He lowered his horns and pushed the cows, trying to get them grouped and heading back to the mountain before daybreak.  But the cows were not following orders.  They were intent on getting in as much grazing time as they could.  As quickly as the bull got one group positioned for the retreat, another already-gathered group would disperse and continue grazing.

It was a losing battle, but the bull futilely kept up his efforts until the day began to dawn.  By this time others in the herd had also begun to suspect that something was wrong.  Several cows started for the place where they normally crossed the ravine, but there was an odor on the breeze of human presence there.

They turned and trotted back to the herd.  Their trotting was a signal to the rest that trouble was afoot.  The bull no longer had to work to gather the herd.  They automatically bunched together and waited for someone to tell them what to do.

An old cow trotted out of the herd and headed south.  The herd followed, trotting, too.  They hadn’t gone far when the lead cow decided things weren’t right, and stopped.  Some cows in the middle of the herd already thought this was an improper direction, so they turned around and headed back the way they’d come.  The whole herd followed.

But nobody was sure about the proper direction to take, and the sky was getting lighter and lighter.  The time for trotting was past.  A cow broke into a run and headed south.  The herd ran, too.  They ran until a shot rang out, and the lead cow dropped to the ground.

The great bull might have been angry that his herd had not heeded his warnings sooner, but he was now as frightened as the rest.  They ran for all they were worth.  They ran north, toward human habitations where no self-respecting elk should ever go, but it seemed the only way out.

The herd tore through the fences in their way.  There was no time to pause for a proper jump.  The run was long and exhausting, but to be left behind was death.  Several in the herd had been running with the rest, and had suddenly dropped down dead.  They were in full flight.  The terror in the herd was palpable.  All felt it—cows, calves, bulls, and even the great bull himself.  This wasn’t the first time he’d made such a panic-stricken run.

The herd ran through seven fields and as many fences.  The great bull made his escape, but a dozen of his comrades were missing.  Never again, he vowed, would they be caught out in a field in the daylight.  He would insist that they leave while it was still dark.  Next time they’d heed and obey.

IV.

Until the ruckus started, the elk calf had been happily grazing near his mother just like he’d done every night for the past month.  This was life.  Life was good.  He had his mother to watch over him and to show him what to do, and they were part of a herd in which he felt very secure.

But then the old bull started acting strangely.  He’d made threatening advances at the calf’s mother, snorting through his nose, and brandishing his antlers.  His mother obediently retreated to where the bull wanted her to be, and the calf followed.  His mother understood, but the younger cows didn’t.  They’d scatter as soon as the bull went to give his attention to others.

The calf’s mother, being older, sensed the same danger that the bull felt.  She suddenly wanted to be in the safety of the mountain, and began moving in that direction.  A few followed.  The calf sensed his mother’s nervousness, and crowded in close to her flank.  She advanced in one direction, hesitated, returned to the herd, and then struck off in a different direction.  She was nervous, and the calf was afraid, though he knew not of what.

The fear quickly spread through the herd, and now all their senses were alert.  The herd was grouped in a tight knot when the calf’s mother made a decision.  She broke into a run, and headed south.  The calf ran with her, and all the rest followed.  They were leaving the field by a different route than they’d ever taken before.  They were nearing the woods when his mother suddenly collapsed.  Her collapse was instantaneously followed by a sharp report from the woods.

The calf’s momentum took him a few paces beyond his mother.  Then he turned and ran back.  He was frightened and needed the directions that she would give him.  She lay unmoving at his feet.  The cows that had been following them were moving back the way they’d come at a full run.  He had an urge to follow, but the dependence he had on his mother overcame other thoughts.  He waited by his mother’s body until it was too late to catch up with the herd.

The calf remained in the field that day, and bedded down in the alfalfa not far from his mother’s body.  He didn’t know what else to do.  He hoped that the herd would return the next night, but they didn’t.  He was alone, and he was thirsty.

The next day the calf ventured into the next field looking for water.  Finding a way through the fence was difficult.  He walked up and down the fence line many times before finally finding a place where he managed to squeeze through.  Getting to the stream was then an easy matter, but he was as lost and as alone as ever.  In the field was a herd of cattle.  He and his elk companions had made their way through the cattle many times, so the calf had no fear of them.  They were, in fact, company, so he attached himself to them.  There he stayed for two weeks.

So it was that when the cowboys came to gather the cattle to take them to the corrals for vaccinations, the elk calf was gathered with them.  As the cattle were sorted, the calf found himself in a round corral.  The mother cows were sorted off in one direction, and their calves went another.  The elk calf was much talked about.  At one point, as he was crowded into a group of other calves, a man actually put out his hand and touched him.

It was all very frightening and confusing, but eventually the episode ended, and the cattle were turned back into their pasture.  Nothing had happened to the elk calf.  He was resigned to the thought of possibly living the rest of his life as a bovine, and might have done so, but for the fact that two nights later his elk herd happened to pass through the cattle.  His heart leaped with joy to see them.  These were his own kind!  He was weaned from needing his mother by that time, but was not weaned from being an elk.  He rejoined the herd, and each year thereafter he and his companions were put through a grueling run that was a repeat of the frightening morning when he’d gotten separated from the herd.