A Volunteer’s Perspective on the Elk Rut

Twilight descended on the meadow. We were concluding our evening duties as volunteers with the Elk Bugle Corps. As I walked up to a low knoll to retrieve the cones that had been set to keep people from going too far into the meadows, I could hear two bulls doing dueling bugling in the distance. As I stood for a minute listening to the shrill screaming coming from the beasts and feeling the evening breeze shudder the meadow grasses, I also heard coyotes howling in the distance. A chorus of falsetto bugles and yelping coyotes filled a foggy Moraine Park dusk with only the magical sounds that come from nature.

For six weeks in the fall of each year, I am a part of the Elk Bugle Corps, a dedicated group of volunteers who spend each night in the Park’s meadows during the elk rut helping to safeguard the elk and facilitate positive experiences for park visitors. The Park’s Public Information Officer reminds us that our tasks are “To protect the elk from the people, to protect the people from the elk, and to protect the people from the people.”

Not every night is as enchanted as the one described above, but every night is interesting. Our primary charge is traffic control, so roads do not get clogged with gridlock and illegal parking. Along the way we tell people about the rut and explain why these animals are not tame and that the park is not a zoo.

Each fall the bull elk gather their harems of females that they want to impregnate. The males make themselves as “pretty” as possible by rolling in wallow holes of dirt, water, and urine, and strutting their muscular bodies and shiny antlers to attract the cows. Their piercing sharp prolonged squeals attempt to scare away other competitive males and charm the cows. The females are nonchalant about the process but become more involved when they go into eustress and seek to choose the finest bull to father their children.

Shorter days, cooler temperatures, and the possibilities of snow in the high country signal the start of the rut in montane meadows. The bulls’ antlers have fully grown, they leave their bachelor herds, and become mortal enemies to one another as they prepare for their contests to woo the cows.

The rut presents high drama. The bulls are testosterone driven and single-minded in their quests for females. They lose their minds. I feel sorry for them. At the same time, I admire the calmness of the cows as they coyly wait for the right bull to come along.

Being an EBC volunteer can be challenging at times in balancing the enthusiasm of the visitors with allowing the spectacle to play out naturally. The elk behavior cannot be controlled but the visitors can. The challenge is omnipresent to keep every being, animal and human, safe. It is a privilege to be a part of one of nature’s unique autumn theaters.