I just spent three days at the YMCA Camp of the Rockies in Estes Park, Colorado. To be there during the “Rut” in a place where Elk are more abundant that chipmunks, provides continuous entertainment. The picture I am sharing with you comes from a moment I had with the largest bull I have ever seen. There are lots of words that have been used to describe Elk—majestic, HUGE, resilient, sleek, powerful, adaptable— just to throw out a few.
Elk, before the arrival of Europeans, were a plains animal. There are descriptions of Elk herds 200 years ago, where they numbered in the hundred of thousands. They shared the Great Plains with the Bison, Antelope, and the native humans that only took what they could eat. Their ability to adapt to the mountains was remarkable. Not so for the Bison. We have had Elk visit us in Arvada in the winter time. It is always a treat.
When I lived in the San Luis Valley I went Elk hunting. I will never forget standing over a five point bull that I had brought down with my grandad’s 30–40 Craig—it was well over a 100 years old. It was maybe an hour before dark. I walked over to him in disbelief. As I stood there looking at the steam coming off his muscled body I started crying. It was not regret but rather a deep sense of the connection between life and death. For the next year my family had everything from Elk chili, to Elk jerky. That was the last time I went Elk hunting.
Now I am going to take you back to 1965 when I was working at my dad’s business, doing all things carpet. I was assigned the task of cleaning the carpet at the Elks Club building. It is a beautiful Victorian era building, complete with pillars and stunning wood and stained glass. I was cleaning the 2nd floor which was a huge ballroom with all their Elk icons, banners, and a roll call of many years of sharing in the life of Pueblo.
I found myself backstage in a passageway. There was a doorbell marked “The Eleventh Hour”. Me, being the curious type, thought I would push it. I was not prepared for what followed. These huge gongs began to ring out throughout the entire building. Soon, I was joined by a posse of older men. “Did you push that button”? After ringing out 11 times my only answer was “Yes”. They burst into laughter. You see, my dad was a loyal member of the “Fraternal Order of the Elks”. “You’re Bill’s kid”? “Yep”. “We will have some fun with him”. That afternoon I confessed my transgression to my dad. He laughed, and then asked “How did the carpet turn out”? I was able to report that the before and after on the giant carpet got the approval of “the guys”.
You might have a hard time making the connection between my recent Elk gazing and 16 year—old Mark. Maybe this will help. At one end of the ball room I cleaned, there was a huge stuffed Elk with a giant rack. He looked out over the space like a sentinel. So, when I see a majestic bull I suffer from a bit of PTECSD (post traumatic Elks Club (BPOE) disorder).
Onward and Upward,
Mark
Lyfting Me Up 