By : Ira Miller
As we started our way up the creek it was hard not to notice the green shoots sprouting up in small pockets were the snow had melted off exposing the bare earth, spring was on its way. I realized with a hint of sadness that this could possibly be my last chance to see the elk before they started their annual migration to the higher more fertile grounds of the Cascades. After a solid hour of hiking we turned and without a word slowly started up the hill that lay to our south. An hour and a half later we were within reach of the top and slowly started a belly crawl to the top or day packs sliding effortlessly beside us in the ice incrusted snow. It was hard work and by the time we reached the top both my cousin and I where drenched in sweat, the view however rewarded our effort. Below us lay an open valley continuing for several miles to the south were it branched off and ended in near vertical hillsides with hundred foot rim rocks rising up to meet the heavens. As we lay we were on the very edge of a hundred-foot cliff, which jutted up from a field filled with juniper trees and sagebrush. Despite our best effort to keep quiet five mule deer jumped from their beds and started away in a slow trot not really sure if they wanted to give up their prime bedding spot for a more exposed one.
But what really got my attention were the elk, forty-two of them to be exact strung out along a hillside like climbers on they�re way to the top of Everest. They were oblivious to our presence and soon bedded down on the middle of the hillside despite the driving rain. I fetched my binoculars from my pack and started to glass the herd. At first all I could see in the fading evening light were cows and calves, suddenly a giant bull appeared and then another followed by two spikes. The bulls were massive, giant 6 pointers with bases as thick as my arm. The leader held his head up testing the wind, his antlers barely off the ground. Satisfied he started towards the cows, which got to their feet and started walking one by on over a ridge and out of sight. I watched in as they disappeared until only the bulls remained. They stopped, looked back as if to say good-by and then one by one turned and were gone.
