Last week I was blessed with a truly amazing evening up the “North 40” of our amazing backyard, high in the mountains of Rocky Mountain National Park. I had been seeing images on social media of the elk beginning to shed their summer velvet, and I decided to make my way up to try to capture a few images of my own as I’ve never witnessed it in person. Needless to say, I was beyond lucky.

Antlers are a type of porous bone, the fastest growing bone found anywhere in the natural world. As the new antlers grow from the pedicle in the spring, they emerge with a thin layer of fuzzy skin known as velvet. The velvet is full of blood vessels that help to nourish the stunningly rapid bone growth, which with elk can be as much as an inch or more per day.

This thin layer of skin also provides a de facto bit of “air conditioning” through the warmer summer months. As the blood flows up into the antlers it is cooled by the mountain air before circulating back into the body, helping to regulate body temperature. Once the antlers reach their full size for the year, the velvet is no longer needed and is shed, revealing the sharp tines of the quintessential stag or bull.

I have a special place I like to go in the park where I have been lucky to enjoy numerous encounters over the years with stunning bulls, so I made my way up and hiked into my “private stash.” Sure enough, while I didn’t see any at first, my ear was caught by a persistent thrashing among the densely packed, stunted trees of the Krumholtz. This is a sure sign of shedding as the elk rub their antlers on the trees to remove what is apparently very uncomfortable and possibly itchy dead skin.

Keeping my distance, I skirted high above the location of the sound to avoid possible close contact, and as I skirted around above a small natural bowl, a small group of six bulls was revealed, two larger 6x6 beasts and four of varying younger ages. Since it was later afternoon, most were bedded or about to bed down for a rest, so after giving greeting and spending a few minutes watching them, I decided to leave them in peace until they stirred from their naps and lighting was better for photography.

When I returned from my exploring they had just begun to rise and graze, so I made my way down and around them in hopes of acquiring a good position to observe them in the improved evening light. Slowly, they began to emerge from the trees into the alpine meadow below, and it became apparent that most had already lost much if not all of their velvet. One still retained all of it, and another had much of his velvet hanging in tatters.

As they took their evening meal, one of the younger bulls, already shorn, approached the largest bull, seemingly imploring the elder with a question of some sort. My initial impression was of father and son, and moments later the question was seemingly answered as they squared off and initiated sparring.

I’ve shared previous articles regarding elk sparring, as it is a practice done from late summer all the way up to losing the antlers in the spring. Typically, the activity does not occur while antlers are in growth to avoid possible damage. With the velvet having shed so recently, this was likely the first time these bulls had gotten any practice since the previous spring. Initially the contact was simply working out head positioning, which is essential to avoid inflicting major damage to an opponent in the real battles of the rut.

As time passed, things got a little more heated. Instincts took over, and they began a more intense bout of pushing. This got two of the other bulls excited, and they, too, squared off and began to “play,” providing me with a stunning private show. Not long after, a third elder bull previously unseen ascended into the meadow, likely attracted by the sounds of clattering antlers, and began to eagerly prance around the action.

While he never got involved with the sparring, he ran up to a patch of trees and thrashed his own shorn rack as a sign of dominance, then proceeded to frantically paw out a small wallow and roll around with grunts and squeals of seeming delight.

While sparring is serious business, this also had a celebratory feel as they reveled in the spirit of the changing seasons. The sun lowered behind the mountains and they eventually broke and returned to their graze, all but the lone late-comer, who was still gleefully rolling in his wallow. A light rain began to fall and I rose to give my thanks, then parted ways and made my descent into the world of man with a full and grateful heart.

For additional information about James DeWalt Photography, check out https://jamesdewaltphotography.com